A Touch Of Cloth Novels & Stories

I asked myself. My fingers brushed over the soft fabrics. Silk. Satin. Things I had only seen on TV or on rich women in magazines. Each dress looked like it belonged to a different version of me—one I had never been allowed to be.The Cloth is a stunning piece of luxury ,draped elegantly to accentuate it's rich texture.Made from the finest silk. Outside my room, the house was alive. Maids ran back and forth, arranging flowers, adjusting table covers, polishing silver plates. Some were busy in the kitchen, moving quickly, whispering instructions to one another. Security guards stood firmly at the gates, alert and serious, like this place held a treasure that must be protected.

He was a silent shadow as he hung my new clothes on a polished brass hook. My eyes, locked on his every move, widened further as he bent down. He scooped up the fallen towel, his fingers brushing against the tiled floor, and with a swift, practised motion, he wrapped it back around me. His touch, a fleeting pressure on my back, was the spark that shattered the frozen moment. It was a jolt, not of electricity, but of reality. My tense muscles softened, my wide mouth slowly closed, and a soft sigh escaped my lips. The heat in my face cooled, replaced by the faint, comforting warmth of the towel against my skin.

Camella gasped for air, and sucked in as much air as possible. Alland stroked the girl’s jaw, down to her long neck, until finally he gently stroked her shoulder. “Can I?” said Alland slowly lowering the straps of Camella’s nightgown. “Sure, sir,” Camella said, agreeing that Allan had touched her. Alland opened Camella’s dress slowly and didn’t take her eyes off Camella, making the girl lulled. Until now Camella was shirtless. Alland admired Camella’s two hills. Then he lowered Camella’s dress leaving only her panties. Slowly Alland opened the girl’s panties and stroked Camella’s thighs to the soles of her feet very gently, making the girl slightly shudder at the treatment of her superior.

He asked, his voice deeper than natural. His right hand unfisted, gracing her bare skin as it reached her neck, and with his thumb, he rubbed the mark on her neck. Electricity erupted through her body; that's all it took to make her forget what she had intended to confront him about. His touch was cold and refreshing on her hot skin, like a cold glass of water after being in the Sahara desert for a year. 'Was it hot in here?' Her breath came out raspy, it was beginning to become hard to breathe, and she wasn't sure why. Well, she knew why? His being this near her affected her in ways she couldn't explain, worst this time around than ever before.

I told him, keeping my head on his chest, still hugging him. He hugged me back, keeping both his hands on my back, rubbing it. It feels nice whenever he touches me. His touch soothes my heart. I don't know what to call this feeling, but I know I have started to like him. “Does it mean from now onwards, you are going to listen to everything I say?” His husky voice reached my ear and I looked up from his chest, our lips just an inch away.

He wears a leather tunic. He is sprightly, hopping out of the carriage and landing on the ground. I find myself staring at him. He heads straight for our Alpha and the two embrace, slapping each other's backs. "It's good to see you," Alpha Maxwell says. He has the energy of a pup, I think, rather than a distinguished grandfather like Alpha Nico. "You, too," Alpha Nico responds. "May I introduce my mate, Luna Tatiana." The Luna steps forwards and shakes hands with the visiting Alpha.

He walked to me and crouched at my level. "It's okay."He said in a gentle voice that made me shade more tears. "I'm here,You're safe now."He extended his huge hand and touched my face, wiping tears from my eyes. I leaned into his touch because I needed comfort. I decided to forget if he was my enemy and basked into his comfort. He removed the leather jacket that he was wearing and covered me with it. I guess he realised that it was too cold and I was only wearing a thin night dress which didn't do any good in protecting me from the cold breeze.

Something in the way Vince said this, made Jimmy cold all over. “Okay,” he said. “So let’s get back to this Tailor guy. What’s his angle? What does his name mean? What exactly is the ‘True Cloth?’” “What do you think it is? There’s only one true cloth, the one thing that clothes everything in existence—the fabric of reality. It’s what the whole of the universe is cut from and it’s the material he chooses to work with.” “Okay, now you’ve totally lost me. Are you telling me he makes like . . . reality suits?”

The separation of the two has never happened. Andy pushed the menu in front of Harris, "Choose a drink!" Harris waved his hand, "I don't drink anything; I have to go home after talking. Tonight, my company has a small party." Andy nodded when he heard that and assessed Harris, just like when they were still in love. Suddenly, Andy's hand reached out, wanting to touch his cheek. Harris jerked backward, the air thick with embarrassment. Andy curled his lips into a smile, narrowing his eyes, and gently stroked Harris' cheek with his thumb.

I understood how it was easy to move in that dress, but safety? My confusion must have shown on my face because Fiona grinned at me before touching the dress, her finger running over the fabric almost reverently. Following her lead, I too touched it, only to freeze the next moment. In the key areas of the gown, such as the bust, belly area and thighs, beneath the satin, there was a lining. Even without seeing it, I recognised the warmth of the gossamer-like material beneath it. Cliovace. A fabric so thin and soft to the touch that belied its magical property of repelling everything, including a bullet. Nothing could penetrate the material. It was so difficult to obtain that it was reserved f