*After the Storm*
After the perilous journey to retrieve a file of paramount importance, and a trip to the desert to hunt down bandits, Lilly Linton believed that the turmoil had come to an end.
But what happens when the ghosts of Mr Rikkard Ambrose...
I've finally found it in me to rewrite this chapter. It's slightly shorter than the original as I tried to finish it in one day. I'M EXHAUSTED BUT I FEEL SO ACCOMPLISHED. (I just finished it and it's now past 12am here.)
I cried really badly last night but after reading all your really kind comments and listening to some soothing Christian songs, I found a deep peace within. Love you all so much.
Hope you lovelies enjoy this chapter! <3
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By the way, I had a photoshoot on Friday and i love the pictures ahhhhhh.
Here's my favourite:
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I THINK I LOOK COOL AS HELL. Excuse my hype about it XD.
Shameless advertisement: Go follow my Instagram account while you're at it teehee. It's @bethcosplays .
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When I said: He struck, he didn't do it with his hands, no, but with his lips.
His cursed lips that made me feel things I never wanted to ever feel in my entire life. They were just as I remembered ― soft, warm, demanding and utterly captivating. My body that was set on fire desired nothing more than to free itself from the trammels of precision and succumb to the temptation Mr Ambrose offered.
Feminist! You're a feminist!
I was a what?
Feminist! You idiot!
All sensible thoughts flew out of my head as his hands slid down the wall and came to rest on my waist.
Stick to your virtues! Stop kissing him! My inner being shrieked frantically. But the more Mr Ambrose's lips caressed mine, the more that voice faded into oblivion until the only words I could hear were: kiss him...kiss...kiss...
And kiss him back I did.
I had almost forgotten how ethereal yet sinful his touch was. It sent chilly shivers down my spine while simultaneously triggering hot shafts of molten amorousness to slither down to somewhere I suspected wasn't my stomach.
I felt like a dying fish out of water and his kiss was the only thing that could help me breathe, as silly as that sounded.
Get away from him!
I pulled back, but all I managed to do was take a gasp of air before crashing my mouth desperately against his again. A low growl emanated from his throat. I should have felt disgusted by the feral sound he had made and pushed him away, but all it did was make my back arch and body press firmly against his.
I must have been going mad!
Oh holy Mother Mary...he...he was...Oh good God! I gasped as his hands suddenly drifted downwards to my very, very private down below. Or should I call it my backdoor? Either way, it was a part that no man would dare touch unless they wanted to lose an arm, a leg, or their whole head.
