Touch My Son Touch Your Death Novels & Stories

Not gently either. Sharon yanked her hand back, cradling it against her chest, her eyes wide. But she didn't look offended or angry. She just looked terrified. "Don't touch her," Dean growled, his voice low and cold, "with your filthy hands." Sharon nodded frantically, her wet hair dripping onto the tiles in front of her. "I'm so sorry," she started, her voice coming out cracked and breathless, completely stripped of that confident, mocking quality it always carried.

He slowly ran his tongue on my clitoris while both his hands pressed my washed down stepping every moment as I was shocked from the immense pleasure I felt. Killian slowly raised his head to stare at me again before he ran his hands on my surface grabbing it tightly enough for me to go insane. The next time another man touches you he dies. I wouldn’t mind blowing off his skull, it took me everything not to kill off that bastard tristain for even daring to touch you. A stupid grin appeared on my face as my heart fluttered from his words. Are you going to kill off any potential suitor who comes my way? I know you can’t do that.

God… my head was gonna explode. Whoever thought the quiet-harmless-Sophia Vale was indeed quiet as she seemed to be, needs to get a fucking therapy session from me. I sighed, dropping my left hand and rubbing my temples. There was this look the bartender gave me, and I could swear it was pity, like he confirmed his thought. I wasn't born in a world like this. Just a borrower for the time being. I lowered my phone, finding the speaker icon turned on. Although my vision was blurry as fuck, I could still notice the slight changes.

"Is it true Damon Blackwood killed your mother?" I raised my hand. The room fell silent. "My name is Clara Reyes," I said. "Eleven years ago, my mother, Elara Reyes, died. I was told she died of an illness. I believed that lie for over a decade. Today, I'm here to tell you the truth." I paused. "My mother was murdered. She was poisoned. Slowly. Deliberately. By the Blackwood family. And the man who helped cover it up the man who knew what was happening and said nothing was my fiancé, Damon Blackwood."

“She is ours. Tangere illam, et morieris.” His words, low and chilling, echoed in the suddenly silent clubhouse. *Touch her, and you die*.

“Mom—” “And Leo,” Lucian cut in, dropping another file on top of the first. “You want that too? Hospital outreach logs. Emails intercepted at the DeLuca office. call records rerouted through your private switchboard. She buried every message about my son until the boy lost his place in line and died waiting.” My mother made a sound I had only heard once before, when I was a child and a car bomb went off two blocks from the Moretti restaurant. It was the sound of shock cracking open.

He asked, his voice deeper than natural. His right hand unfisted, gracing her bare skin as it reached her neck, and with his thumb, he rubbed the mark on her neck. Electricity erupted through her body; that's all it took to make her forget what she had intended to confront him about. His touch was cold and refreshing on her hot skin, like a cold glass of water after being in the Sahara desert for a year. 'Was it hot in here?' Her breath came out raspy, it was beginning to become hard to breathe, and she wasn't sure why. Well, she knew why? His being this near her affected her in ways she couldn't explain, worst this time around than ever before.

I tried to yank him, as he approached me and tried to touch me with his filthy hands. I hate his touch. I was once told about bad touch, and trust me I'm experiencing one creepy feeling with this person right in front of me. He kneels down at my level, and roams his hands over my chest region, which disgusts me. I refuse as much as I could, but all in vain. " You are smooth, I'll regret killing you as I shove my dick in that tight cunt of you!!! " I grit my teeth. No, no, no, I don't even want to imagine this.