Anthony Bridgerton X Reader Novels & Stories

“Please leave.” Anthony crossed his arms. “Your work is good. You know, most people like when I think they’re talented. Most people say thank you.” “I’m not interested in your opinion.” Frowning, he studied her. “You’re acting like I was going through your underwear drawer.” Thea blushed. “You’re shameless!” “No, I just hate mysteries. Has anyone seen this novel?” At her silence, he said, “Ah, I’ve got it. You’re—what? Embarrassed?”

With that said, Marley turned on her heels and went away. Anthonio turned back to the table, his heart still thumping hard. He sat down and poured a generous amount of the liquid into the glass and he downed it. He wanted her. Badly. And maybe she does too, her eyes had revealed a hint of desire. Or was that just his wishful thinking? Anthonio looked down at the bulge pressing against his trousers and sighed. He was hard. Just being close to her turned him on. ~~~~~~~~~~~ Marley took the stairs two at a time, her heart racing.

She writes about book men like a woman full and wild with experience which is quite the opposite of this dear author for she has never actually experienced life quite yet! In real life, our famous author is quiet, withdrawn, and far more comfortable inside her imagination than in anyone’s arms. That’s until her fiction starts watching her back. When a mysterious reader begins sending her deeply personal gifts and unsettlingly precise notes, Alessia is forced to confront the possibility that someone out there sees her far too clearly. Someone who doesn’t just read her stories but understands her.

Each encounter, each whispered secret, each shared glance only served to strengthen their bond, weaving a tapestry of connection that felt unbreakable. With Anthony, she felt safe to explore every facet of her being, to dive into the depths of her desires and to emerge transformed, more vibrant and alive than ever. This chapter of their lives had reached a beautiful climax, but the story was far from over; it was a promise of many more adventures to come, more moments of pure, unfiltered passion that awaited them just around the corner, and she could hardly contain her excitement for what lay ahead.

“Want to be my library buddy? I need someone to help me turn the pages.” “You sure you don’t want Beatrice to help you with that?” I snap, narrowing my eyes at him. Anton’s face breaks into a teasing smile as he leans closer to me. “Sure, I mean, if you don’t think you can handle it –“ But I just snarl and stalk away to the far side of the table from Orion and Laila, grabbing a scroll and starting to unroll it. “Get over here, Tony,” I sigh, patting my leg like I’m calling over a puppy dog. “Let’s see if you can read.”

Anthony said like she was a goddamn royalty, “You down?” “Please…” she waved downwardly, “I’m already paired with Ben here, so I don’t need a special invite,” she cooed as she wrapped her arm around my waist, her nails dragging across my shirt. Suddenly, I froze because her touch wasn’t what I wanted, and I could feel Beatrice glance at me and then away awkwardly. Clara, on the other hand, was silently enjoying the awkward tension. “Clara, you bringing anyone?” Anthony asked, still wearing that shit-eating grin.

I break off, flushing with heat. His eyes darken. "Sex scene?" My throat tightens, making it impossible to swallow. "I was going to say it." He leans back, resting his hands behind his head. "I suppose your right, but don't you ever read it and want them to just get to it already, that it's obvious they want each other." "Didn't know you read romance." My accusatory tone makes him smile. The thought of Hale laying in his bed with this particular book open, reading through the graphic scene makes my toes curl.

Sebastian can’t love me, we have discussed this before; the both of us need to move on and forget the other existed to ensure a smooth separation in five years’ time. I shake my head. “No, I doubt that. So, do you read anything the Bronte sisters wrote or were you just looking to place this in a glass case?” I ask him and he laughs out loud. “Oh, my dear, I am an avid reader. I own every first edition the Bronte’s published and read them as often as my work allows me a gap.” He says, and I frown at this. “You’re a busy man then, I assume?” I ask, noting that he didn’t fit the corporate type with his long hair and a stubble beard.

"Oh My! Young Miss, look at this! They were drawing the illustration of the author! He is so handsome!" Her servant pointed a picture in the last pages of the books. A man with dark chocolate hair and a pair of beautiful eyes which have the same colour with his short hair. He looks like a small porcelain doll with warm smile. Just as Mary say, he is indeed a good-looking man. Gillian Bridgerton was a name which written under his picture. "Young Miss, he is living in Capital! A young man who wrote so many romantic stories must be knowing about how to treat woman! I like him already!"

Safe. Anthony wandered toward the fiction section while Lila ran her fingers along a row of spines. She paused at a worn copy of Wuthering Heights, flipping it open to a passage she’d underlined in her own copy at home. Something about passion and destruction and longing that refused to fade. “You’d make a good Catherine,” Anthony said behind her, his voice thoughtful. “But less tragic. I’d never leave you on a moor.” She turned, laughing. “That’s a weirdly romantic thing to say.”