The Peninsula

The Fiction and Poetry Archive of Liana Mir and scribblemyname



Ahure preferred being on top, and Isot never seemed to mind letting her. He pressed hot kisses to the hollow of her throat. She dug her nails into his shoulders in reaction.

“I’m going to buy a choker,” she murmured, “just for you.”

That drew ragged hot breath against her skin, a strangled laugh. “You’re trying to get me hot and bothered.”

She huffed softly. “I have to try?”

Isot wasn’t actually that easy to rile up, but he growled and nipped at her neck, and that was good, sharp in all the right ways. He didn’t need to answer.


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