Novel & Cerita As Written In The Lewd Notebook

He flipped through it, and every page of the notebook was filled with words, written neatly and elegantly. He turned his head and said, "Mom, I found a notebook!" Yasmine had just finished blow-drying his hair. She turned off the switch and placed it on the countertop, then took the notebook from Layne's hand. This is a pink notebook that is approximately three centimeters thick, with a matte leather cover and a very good texture. Yasmine opened it, and on the title page it said, "To my beloved daughter." The time was recorded four years ago.

Wouldn't that mean he had a kid somewhere? And the skeletons just keep growing. The first compartment is filled with files, cheque books, pens, notepads and other boring stuff. I close it and pull open the next one, and I freeze for a few seconds, red creeping to my cheeks, and my anger temporarily forgotten. There's a book with a very vivid image of what looks to be an orgy on it. Written in bold is the title, The Kama Sutra. There are several different notes attached inside, and as I push it aside, I falls out.

He forget everything around him, if there was the only thing in his mind, it was LUST. He slipped it out and in a moment, He turned her around and lifted her onto the kitchen counter, spreading her legs wide he rammed inside her like a hungry wolf. Her weak hand trying to bear her weight, but failed where without caring anymore Rayn continue to fuck her and claim her like he owned her.

Not after I’d been standing there, feeling like dirt under their shoes. “And also,” he added, his eyes flicking down to the dark stain spreading across my shirt, “get yourself cleaned up. You look ridiculous.” The words sliced through me, sharp and deliberate. He didn’t even wait for me to respond before turning away, walking back toward his pack of hyenas like a king returning to his throne. I looked down at the notebook in my hands, his name written across the cover in bold ink. Then I saw something else, just faintly visible in the corner of the last page… something that made my breath hitch.

“You’d risk everything for her.” Leora met his gaze, unflinching. “I already have.” --- Near midnight, Leora awoke to soft movement. The bed beside her was empty. Panic stabbed her chest. She hurried down the corridor and found the girl in the library again, standing before a wall of shattered books, fingers tracing the spines. The notebook lay open on the floor. A single phrase scrawled across the page: I am not yours. I am not theirs. I am mine.

“I… uh…” His expression didn’t shift, but I caught the faintest flicker of disappointment in those storm-grey eyes before he called on someone else. That look stung worse than his indifference ever did. The rest of the class I spent writing. Not lecture notes — I had already christened this notebook with a new title in flowing script across the top: ~ The Book of Forbidden Desires ~ Underneath, I kept going:

"Dominic found this near the west gate. It has your initials on it. And some... very interesting entries." I frowned, wiping my hands on my apron. I recognized the notebook. It was my old recipe journal from Seattle, the one I thought I’d lost during the move. I opened it. The first few pages were my handwriting, croissants, brioche, sourdough starters. But as I flipped through, the ink changed. The handwriting was a jagged mimicry of mine, detailing meetings I’d never had, longings for a man named "Caleb," and plans to take Liam and leave the "gilded cage" for good.

Lea rolled her eyes. I held out my hand. "Give me my notebook." "No." I lunged for it, but Lea jerked it out of my reach. "Lea, give it back!" "So this notebook really is that important to you?" she snapped. "With all this disgusting stuff written in it, I'm going to burn it! This stupid notebook is the reason you keep throwing yourself at Dylan!" "LEA!" I shoved her shoulder aside and yanked the notebook out of her hands.

Then I opened my legs wider for him, resisting the overwhelming urge to close them and hide. The cool air against my wet folds made me shiver. “Touch yourself,” he ordered, voice low and rough. My face burned with humiliation, but I obeyed again. My fingers moved between my folds, smearing my abundant juices around my already swollen clit. The wet sound was embarrassingly loud in the quiet room. I closed my eyes tightly, unable to bear the intensity of his stare. “Open your eyes,” he snapped. “And do not hide your moans.” I forced my eyes open, releasing my bitten lip. Soft, embarrassed whimpers escaped me as I circled my clit faster. My hips began to rock against my hand without permission.

Like the room itself didn’t want me getting closer. The notebook sat perfectly still beneath the dim light. Waiting. I reached for it slowly. My hands trembled badly now. When I touched the cover— Another flash hit me. My own handwriting. Fast. Panicked. Writing over and over across paper: DON’T TRUST THE MEMORIES. DON’T GO BACK. IF YOU FORGET AGAIN— RUN. The vision vanished instantly. I jerked backward sharply. The notebook slipped from my hands and hit the floor. Pages spilled open. And there—