Twisted Lovestruck 소설 & 이야기

I can't love her and leave her craving me for the rest of her life. Moonstruck. That's what they call it when a human or a witch mates with a wolf and becomes so entangled with them emotionally that they can never feel whole again without their touch. Maybe if she had more experience, another lover's touch to compare with mine, but she doesn't. She's only had me. If I take her now, she might become tied to me even without a mate bond.

"You're cruel... twisted..." "Cruel?" He withdrew his fingers, bringing them to my lips, forcing me to taste us. "Taste your sin, Clara. That's the flavor of your guilt—sweet and filthy." I licked instinctively, the salty tang making my core clench emptily. He growled in approval, positioning himself at my entrance, the broad head of his cock nudging against my folds. "Twisted? Yes. But you love it. Your pussy's clenching just thinking about me slamming into you." With a single, brutal thrust, he sheathed himself fully, the stretch burning anew, making me cry out in a blend of agony and ecstasy.

His accent was thick and raspy. I slid off, completely trusting him… And he caught me, without a problem. I was so embarrassed, that I hid my face in his chest, wrapping my arms around his neck. “Uh...love? you alright?” He asked concernedly, I just nod my head against his chest. “Right…” He dragged on, he didn’t really know what to say. “Tell me...why were you on the roof?” He asks nervously, clearing his throat afterward. “I have a stowaway on your roof...a plant...a succulent to be pacific,” I said softly into his chest. I was still too embarrassed to look at him. “I-I got dizzy for a second and lost my footing.” I admitted to him.

“But that day will come one day.” Love, oh gosh, the most hearted word in my dictionary, what is the meaning of this word? If you g****e this shit, you will find some affection, passion, intensity-related insane stuff. I want to shout at this person’s face who invented this definition, I get all this from my whore without showering that fucking shit word. I know the world’s worst love tale, I didn’t need to look far, my house is the treasure of this tragedy. My father and mother were college sweethearts, they got married after my dada took over my grandfather’s construction company after his death, became millionaires, and new high society, glam, parties became a part of their simple life.

After all, we both loved the same person who inflicted us with nothing but misery. "Rochie wanna gossip?", I turned her to face me. She did her silly twirl giving me a sign that she is listening. "Did you ever wonder, If he loved us so much how could he do this to us?", I sniffed as she rotated her head left and right concentrating on me. "We loved him like fan girls and we would've done anything if he asked, all he had to do was be a good person was that too much to ask?", I closed my eyes letting out everything I have been dying to say.

He fucked me senseless across the room, against the floor-to-ceiling window, city lights witnessing as he slammed in from behind, hand over my mouth to muffle screams; on the plush rug, animalistic and raw, nails raking his back; finally on his lap in an armchair, face to face, slow and deep, his scar brushing my cheek with each grind. "You're not leaving after the debt clears," he whispered during a rare pause, nipping my ear lobe, drawing a bead of blood he sucked away. "This is forever now, pet. My twisted little shadow." Toxic love coiled around us, dark and intoxicating, the party's distant laughter a mocking backdrop to our moans.

The air turned heavy, eyes on her back. Her phone vibrated, sharp against her thigh. Liam: I don’t care what they made us. I love you. Old oak, tonight. Her chest twisted—his silver eyes, their stolen kisses, all a cult lie to spark her powers. She wanted to believe his love was real, but the scar on her wrist burned, whispering betrayal.

Neither of us spoke. I crossed the room and settled beside him. He brushed my wet hair from my cheek, tracing the small scar near my temple — the first mark I earned for loving him. “You should hate me,” he murmured. I tilted my head, confused. “For what?” “For dragging you into this. For not managing to end it sooner.” I took his wrist, pressing his palm flat against my heart. “You didn’t drag me anywhere,” I replied. “You stood beside me. You kept standing, even when it cost you everything.”

Fuck? I screamed, not wanting to listen to him. He squeezed my breast again, roaming his other hand over my body, stopping between my legs as he strummed my core with his long fingers through the white lace of my dress. I shoved my head back, but I got hurt instead as it collided with his collarbone. "That makes these tits mine. This pussy mine. This whole body mine and I will do with it whatever I goddamn please." I bucked in his hold, wanting to burn my ears from his disgusting delusions.

"You don't have to tell me that twice" I grinned. I trust my girl, completely. "I love you, Sophie"I breathed pulling her into my arms. "I love you,more" Rich guys don't get to have everything. Damien O'Connell had just messed with the wrong guy. Sophia's mine. I have been the only man who has ever been inside of her. I fucking popped her Cherry. She loves me....just me. Nothing's gonna change that.