❝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.

"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