Beneath Her Skin Novels & Stories

Luna Nikita was on another plane of reality when it came to expertise in lip movement. Blaze's hands traveled through the curves of her behind and trailed the perfect structure of her bosom. She was indeed an art, a priceless one. He allowed the towel that hung loose on her body to drop down to the floor before ridding himself of his clothing. Blaze wanted them to be one. He wanted to feel every part of her and wanted her to feel him the same way too.

I run my forefinger over the sliver of space available. She lets me. Her skin is so soft. She lets me dip my finger further down.

Her hair was tied up in a bun with a very thick makeup on, and a very red lipstick. She was in a short skirt. In actual fact, she was dressed in very revealing clothes from head to toe. When she saw Kelsa, she asked her in a vengeful tone "So, you are the one who took the title of Mrs Shaw from me. Right? Let's see if you have what it takes to compete with me."

She was now relaxed and content in his embrace. The blanket that was once spread across their bodies is now only covering the lowest portion of them. Her flawless back is completely exposed, the black locks of her hair sprawled across the surface. She is showing her bare skin, revealing her tiny goosebumps that dotted her body due to the chilly air.

Beneath The Scars We have marks that tell a story , Stories of who we are , when we climbed through the rocky mountain and fell with our faces on the solid rock , Those marks that thought us never to give up , Those marks that lay beneath the skin . Those marks that always remind us of where we came from and where we have reached. Synopsis

She is indeed stunning. "I'm sure she's not feeling well, Coreen, would you be okay if a snake swallowed you?" teased the short-haired female. She was also stunning, like a furious goddess from Mt. Olympus. Her short, black hair complemented her demeanor. It gave her a rough and independent appearance. Is there anything in this Palace that is ugly? Perhaps it's the system. Coreen rolled her eyes, "Oh shut up, Nathalia."

“Please–” “Fine fine, hush now, first we gotta measure you.” Hastily rising from the bed, she reached for the hem of her nightgown and lifted it off her body revealing a torso so narrow and pure with white skin that seemed to glow with a light of its own from within. Stark ribs shifted like the ivory keys of a piano with each movement she made, abdomen stiff and fragile in its fine musculature. Yarrow removed a measuring tape, notebook and pen from the front of her apron, “Did you eat supper?”

It was dangerous. Her skin was tanned, warm-toned, a contrast to the cold stone around her. Not the pallor of a woman kept indoors, but someone who spent time under open skies, who trained, who endured. There was strength in her body, not excessive, not masculine, just controlled, intentional.

Natural and understated. She carries a leather portfolio and projects confidence with every step. Her heels click against the floor with steady precision. She looks like every other businesswoman we've met with. Polished, professional and untouchable except I know better. I know what she looks like underneath that suit, I know the curve of her waist, the softness of her skin, the exact shade of the bruises we left on her hips. I know the sounds she makes when she comes, the way her breath hitches and the little gasps and moans and broken curses.

She leaned in close, focused on fishing out every tiny green leaf from the broth. From this distance, Xavier studied her. Her brows were dark and well-defined, her eyes large and clear, and her lips possessed a natural, healthy flush. Her skin was like fine white porcelain—smooth, translucent, and glowing with a faint rosiness. He recalled her earlier boast about her complexion. No wonder she’s so confident, he thought with a cold internal smirk. No amount of expensive skincare could manufacture skin that looks like a baby’s. It was a rare trait in an adult, and he had to admit she had the capital to be proud.