Another Word For Desperate Novels & Stories

She sounded more or less desperate, her voice expressed her horny feelings, she was in desperate need of pleasure and more seemed as though I was depriving her of that. It was quite thrilling to know that she had given up so easily, the emotions she thought she would never express were basically what she was expressing now, she was damn desperate in need of a dick, digging deep in her and I was the only one who could give her that. I was the only one who could deliver her from the hunger she felt, I could cure her desperation, but I wasn't willing to do that so easily. She was already begging as I had wanted her to even do better at begging me, I wanted her to scream my name and beg so despe

Our love had been a flame that burned bright, but now it was reduced to smoldering embers, threatening to extinguish completely. I couldn't shake off the feeling of desperation that gripped me. Elodie's words still lingered in my mind: "You look tired." A simple phrase, yet it cut deep. I felt exhausted, drained by the weight of our unspoken words, unresolved issues, and the darkness within me.

The kind of control someone uses when they are standing at the edge of something dangerous. “I didn’t mean to,” he said quietly. My chest tightened. “Didn’t mean to what?” His jaw flexed. “I heard them.” My stomach dropped. “You hear them all the time now.” “No,” he said. “This was different.” “How?” “They weren’t afraid.” The words landed heavy. I stared at him. “What do you mean they weren’t afraid?” “They were desperate,” he replied. “They were begging.” My pulse raced. “Begging for what?”

But the feeling in my chest won’t leave me alone. I finally understand what it is. The ache that never fades. The fear sitting deep in my bones whenever I imagine trying to reach for him and him letting me go. Desperation. I’m desperate. Hopelessly, completely desperate, and I don’t know what to do with it. The feeling isn’t new. I’ve known it for most of my life. Desperation to survive when I realised my mother was gone and that man in the leather jacket would come for me next. Desperation to be loved by Victor and Elara, even while they slowly broke my heart. Desperation to protect my daughter, to find her, to know she was safe.

I could feel it too much. ' You will return soon. I get what I want Alice Anderson and with someone as desperate as you, everything is too easy. ' His words mocked me again. And I hit my head against the wall to feel the pain course through me as tears fell down my eyes helplessly. He was so right. With someone like me everything was too easy... Because I was desperate. And Helpless.

David, now it's your turn to taste the bitter emptiness of shattered hope, to feel desperation sweep through your soul, and to watch your wolf spiral into madness.

I plant my feet, grit my teeth, and try to summon whatever it is he’s looking for. Nothing happens. I hit the ground again, harder this time. My frustration boils over. "Damn it!" "Anger is good," he says calmly. "But you need more." I glare up at him. "Like what?" His gaze softens—just slightly. "Desperation." A chill runs through me. "Think about it," he continues, voice lower now, almost gentle. "What happened that night in your apartment? You thought you were going to die. You had no other option. That’s when it happened."

My mind spun with one desperate thought, circling, relentless. Something had gone wrong. Very, very, wrong.

he said again, voice ragged. The words came out broken, fractured by the effort it was taking him to speak at all. His voice was barely recognizable, rough with desire and desperation and the kind of need that could drive a man to madness. But there was no conviction behind the words anymore. No force. Only a desperate, hollow plea.

To have the money to make problems disappear. I didn't have money. I didn't have confidence. But as I lay there, listening to the muffled bass of music thumping from the room next door, I realized I did have one thing: desperation. And desperation, as the books always said, was a dangerous motivator. I didn't know it yet, but my quiet, invisible life was about to end. And it wasn't going to be because of a blog post about flirting. It was going to be because of a deal with the devil.