Romans & histoires Passion Bl

She hissed, slapping her hands against the window behind her to keep her balance. My fingers deepened around her waist and pushed her further back against the window which each stroke that went deeper. I buried my nose in her neck, in her scent and breathed deep. Passion was the only thing that could calm the violence within me. Passion for only one woman and that was my woman Bella whom I had sworn to protect. I let myself pour every frustration out through our union.

I did. Instead of returning my fingers to their previous position, I brought them to my mouth. While she watched, I fanned her core with warm breath from my nostrils. It must have tickled because she shuddered a little. My tongue darted forward and gave her a little flick. She shuddered again and tried to close her legs, but I wasn’t having it. I placed my legs perfectly between hers and drove her straight to heaven’s gate. I didn’t spare a spot.

"What do you do when you experience passionate feelings at that point, Suzette?" "Mon ami, I quickly go for a fortnight to the ocean—one is lost on the off chance that one becomes hopelessly enamored in the metier—the man stomps on then, at that point, — stomps on and sneaks off—for everything great one must never feel." "Yet, you have a good nature, Suzette; do you feel for me?" "Hein?" she asked, pointing to all of her tiny white teeth. "Thou? —Thou art very rich, mon chou." Ladies will continuously

“With Javier, I never have to wonder. He tells me exactly how he feels. He doesn’t hesitate.” Jessy exhaled slowly, dragging a hand down her face. “Haven, I love you, but this is some serious soap opera shit.” I let out a shaky laugh, half-choked, half-bitter. “Tell me about it.” Her tone turned firm, cutting through the mess in my head. “Listen. Passion feels amazing—it sweeps you up, it makes your heart race, it makes you feel alive. But passion isn’t the same as love. Don’t confuse the two.”

As ,she knew what he was going to do, her head was spinning ;her senses was getting numb. But ,his eyes became more sharp and dark , " Sorry , Ragazza , but I will not let you ruin everything! ". Although ,he knew the reason that Hayden has brought her here to implant an unforgiving torture to her , but he also had a one more fucking truth , that this Hazel Blackwell, was Hayden's Leonardo's passion . And , in there scary world ,there was no place for a useless thing like passion. In , there dangerous Mafia, girl like hers would become the cause of their destruction, so it will be better that she would die.

She tastes like passion, like pure, unrestrained passion, and I want more. So we begin to close the gap even more than before. What begins as a small peck becomes more passionate. The rest of the world spins so fast it becomes non-existent. I lean even further into her, and our body melts into each other. It is as if I can feel a fire blazing within me, out of control. We are completely and utterly in sync at this very moment.

He dialed Riley’s number one more time and when it went to voicemail again, he sent probably the millionth ‘I love you, I am so sorry’ text message he had sent her. He took another big long pull off of the vodka bottle before he decided to send Erin James a fax. It had all the details of the club he and Riley were working on, with the name Manhattan Passion written across the top. He figured if his relationship with Riley was really over the name of what they had started together should at least reflect a little on what they had. He decided he would send her one last message before he left her alone.

She was getting hot and hotter by the second and was certain she could wet her panties anytime soon. Her thinking faculty went totally blank when he drew her closer and settled his lips on hers. It was like a dream come true. And if she was thinking it would be tentative, she was utterly wrong. It was fierce and demanding. As if finally claiming what you've been deprived of for a very long time.

In the steam, his gaze is a burning gray. "It is you who deserves all the credit, mia regina. For holding on. For patiently shaping me into a man who can, sometimes, trust." I draw him to me and kiss him. It is a kiss that is nothing gentle. It is a claim, a celebration, a conflagration. The taste of water, of him, of us. His hands run over my back, my hips, pressing me against him, erasing the little space that remained. Passion, between us, has never been a soft flame. It is an underground blaze that smolders permanently, ready to ravage everything in its path as soon as it is given the opportunity.