❝Read me your favorite pieces of poetry while I please you❞ I feel his hardness grow underneath me and watch as his chest begins to rise and fall. His lips part open with heavy breaths. I begin to unbutton his shirt slowly, kissing down his neck almost in the worse and possible - teasing way. The cross necklace lying there, his holiness slipping away inch by inch as I leave my sins along his untainted skin. "P-Please" The deep vibration I feel against my lips as they stay on his pulse. I smile and lift my head, with one slow grind of my hips. Alessio let's a hot moan fall from lips. His erection grows harder, as well as the pulse of my clit. My pussy directly above him. "Read to me Alessio" - Honey Rose is a eighteen year old nymphomaniac sin, her desire for sexual pleasure and the way words slipped off her tongue easily without regret, get her sent to Hartford Academy. Where studies and religion are the only things allowed to be spoken in the halls. In which a nymph corrupts the innocence of her Dean's Son. Cover by : RoseEmiliaSnape Highest Rankings - #1 in badgirlgoodboy. #1 in nymph. #1 in unholy. #1 in tension. #1 in naughty. #1 in boarding-school. #2 in forbidden. #2 in tutor. #5 in seduction. #6 in unholy. #7 in lust. #10 in innocent. #11 in temptation.

After spending a night together, Alani never expected to see Valerio again. That is, until three months later when their paths meet once more. "𝒀𝒐𝒖'𝒓𝒆 𝒔𝒐 𝒘𝒆𝒕, 𝑨𝒍𝒂𝒏𝒊," 𝒉𝒆 𝒔𝒂𝒊𝒅 𝒔𝒐𝒇𝒕𝒍𝒚, 𝒍𝒊𝒑𝒔 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒏𝒐𝒔𝒆 𝒑𝒓𝒆𝒔𝒔𝒆𝒅 𝒊𝒏𝒕𝒐 𝒎𝒚 𝒏𝒆𝒄𝒌. 𝑽𝒂𝒍𝒆𝒓𝒊𝒐 𝒘𝒂𝒔 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒐𝒏𝒆 𝒕𝒐𝒖𝒄𝒉𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒎𝒆, 𝒃𝒖𝒕 𝒉𝒆 𝒔𝒐𝒖𝒏𝒅𝒆𝒅 𝒋𝒖𝒔𝒕 𝒂𝒔 𝒂𝒇𝒇𝒆𝒄𝒕𝒆𝒅 𝒂𝒔 𝑰 𝒘𝒂𝒔. 𝑯𝒊𝒔 𝒇𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒆𝒓 𝒔𝒍𝒊𝒑𝒑𝒆𝒅 𝒑𝒂𝒔𝒔𝒆𝒅 𝒎𝒚 𝒄𝒍𝒊𝒕, 𝒇𝒊𝒏𝒅𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒎𝒚 𝒉𝒐𝒍𝒆 𝒘𝒉𝒆𝒓𝒆 𝒉𝒆 𝒔𝒑𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒅 𝒎𝒚 𝒂𝒓𝒐𝒖𝒔𝒂𝒍 𝒂𝒓𝒐𝒖𝒏𝒅. 𝑰 𝒑𝒆𝒆𝒓𝒆𝒅 𝒅𝒐𝒘𝒏, 𝒔𝒆𝒆𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒉𝒊𝒔 𝒕𝒂𝒕𝒕𝒐𝒐𝒆𝒅 𝒉𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒅𝒊𝒔𝒂𝒑𝒑𝒆𝒂𝒓𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒊𝒏𝒕𝒐 𝒎𝒚 𝒍𝒂𝒄𝒚 𝒖𝒏𝒅𝒆𝒓𝒘𝒆𝒂𝒓. 𝑰 𝒔𝒎𝒊𝒓𝒌𝒆𝒅 - 𝑰 𝒍𝒊𝒌𝒆𝒅 𝒉𝒐𝒘 𝒕𝒉𝒂𝒕 𝒍𝒐𝒐𝒌𝒆𝒅.

[Book #2 in the Nystrom series] [18+TW: mature content, heavy topics, language] I push the feeling away and ultimately concentrate my gaze on his upper body, which still bears the traces of my lipstick. "You did not remove them?" He smirks and closes the book as I chuckle and trace the lip print with my finger. I smile at the marks, I wanted him to be mine as much as I was his. The marks reflect that. He raises his eyebrows as soon as his eyes land on mine. "Oh?" His voice is hoarse and low when he murmurs, "You like them?" "I do, they look pretty good on you." I admit, gazing up at him when I see him smirk and I wonder what he is thinking about, but when he grabs my hips and pulls me into his lap, my question is already resolved. "Why don't you take some pictures then, love?" εꨄ︎з 𝐀𝐌𝐀𝐘𝐀 𝐇𝐀𝐘𝐀𝐒𝐇𝐈, the psychopath. While she is still tormented by her dark past, she starts to realize that if anything could obliterate her, it would be her twisted mind. She was desperate for sanity, and as if someone had heard her, the only person who could give her that feeling appeared. 𝐑𝐎𝐖𝐀𝐍 𝐀𝐃𝐀𝐌𝐒, the murderer. He would twist a knife in his heart if it meant proving that he'd do anything for her. He yearned to understand her, her innermost thoughts and ways of thinking. He wanted to be hers, even if it meant losing his own sanity for her. εꨄ︎з STARTED: July 2022 FINISHED: April 2023

"You're atheist," I remind him. "You don't believe in god." "I believe in you," He murmurs, letting the cigarette hang from his lips. "I believe in whatever you believe." He says, letting the confession roll off his tongue as if it were that simple. As if god, the devil, heaven, hell-as if none of it really had meaning to him. "That's not how it works," I mutter as we walk down a few more alleyways-the city of Manhattan coated in a light blanket of snow. Henry Vitiello had never had anything to pray for, that is, until he met me-the only thing that had ever opened his mind up to the possibility of religion "Isn't it?" He argues, taking the cigarette by his middle and pointer finger before blowing the smoke out. "I'II dip my hands in holy water if it means I could touch you." "You'd probably burn." 𓆩♡𓆪 𝐇𝐄𝐍𝐑𝐘 𝐕𝐈𝐓𝐈𝐄𝐋𝐋𝐎, the reaper. He's a prick. An asshole. A pretentious son of a bitch. He's not perfect. He's not even decent. But he's hers. She could be a bottle labeled poison but he was an alcoholic, and he had drunk her empty. Now he was hungover. 𝐉𝐀𝐍𝐄 𝐈𝐕𝐄𝐑𝐒, the healer. She's known to be the perfect good girl, with perfect grades and a perfect life with a perfect family. They didn't know that behind the gated doors of their billion dollar estate, she was strapped down to a chair every night and picked apart just to be put back together in time for supper. 𓆩♡𓆪 star-crossed; adjective (of a person or a plan) thwarted by bad luck. 'star-crossed lovers' and that, they were. So they fucked under those very stars that tried so desperately to break them apart. 𓆩♡𓆪 ‼️DISCLAIMER ‼️ BOOK REFERENCES TO MARA DYER, SHATTER ME, MIND FUCK, ETC ARE ALL INTENTIONAL SO DONT BE RUDE. AS FOR TRIGGER WARN