Bittersweet A Novel Novels & Stories

If this man is destined for me, then please let me love him unconditionally, without doubt, hesitation, or fear. He chuckled, which tickled me, but here I was, tears rolling down my cheeks at the thought. And I know I'm losing this fight, even though it's not official. I am doomed that I let myself fall to this man, who only knows how to bury his member inside me. You are fucked up, Mayu! I just hope that what he shows is true so that I won't lose! "What about my midnight snack, My Sweetie?" he teased. I blinked and tried to push him away. He didn't put on weight and let himself lie on the bed.

I'm an avid reader of romance novels, my favorite author is Kristen Ashley and I've read all of her books. You know that moment when a guy and lady connect and there are electric shocks and the rest that seems like a myth? I feel it then. Immediately I put my hand in his, it's like a shock passes through his hand to mine and I have to remove my hand immediately. "Nice to meet you Mia" he says with a sly smile on his face. It's like he knows what just happened to me. "Same here Mr. Black" I mumble. "Just Damien please. Mr. Black means I have to accept the fact that I'm old" he says.

They might have taken my freedom, my revenge, but they couldn't take my defiance. With a trembling hand, I uncorked the vial. The scent of bitter almonds filled my nostrils, a familiar, comforting scent. This wasn't a swift poison, no. It would be a slow, agonizing descent into oblivion, a fitting end for a life filled with such bitter disappointment.

How could I be so inhuman? I slipped the phone into my pocket and rushed forward towards her. In a split second, I picked her up in my arms. She was burning with fever and I felt guilty for fighting with her instead of taking care of her. ‘What’s wrong with me?’ I couldn’t help but mutter. In her unconscious state, she rested her head on my shoulder and all the bitterness I had harbored in my heart ebbed away. I felt lighter, euphoric, like a little boy who got what he craved!

After all, if such news were to reach the ears of other people, who knew how badly it was going to get twisted out of proportion? Meanwhile, Giselle had been receiving a lot of harassing messages lately. Every time she blocked the account, another new account would continue sending her strange messages. The most absurd thing was, that person would recommend some novels for her to read! But they were all anti-romance novels with a moral theme. Among them, the most frequently recommended ones were the stories of an uncle and his nephew's wife. Giselle picked a few to read. There were twists and turns to the plot, but all of them had the same tragic ending.

No more Gerald's name in my story. Hehe, surprise we got in front. Xixi. I give you a clue. If you remember which country David is from, then you will know which country Rara is in now. (The clue in the prequel story) This story from Sweet Series : -Sweet Mistakes (book 3) this is actually book 3 lol. - Sweet Temptation (Book 2) Who is David and how is All Rara's lying before. - Sweet Desire ( Book 1) How Rara and Gerald met for the first time.

He was so near that she now smelled his sweet perfume , the body perfume which was now making her become weaker and to make it worse with the position they were in she realized that his chest was resting on one of her breasts . Author's note To be continued ............

It was ownership—her grip tightening around the last thing she could still keep from him. The room tilted again as he tried to push himself forward—tried to make his body obey the urgency in his mind—and his strength betrayed him in the same instant. He drew in a breath too quickly, too shallow, the way drowning men do when they break the surface. At first he only tasted the usual bitterness—herbs, wax, medicine—familiar as a prison. Then something sweeter threaded through it. Faint. Almost imagined. He blinked hard, breath hitching. The sweetness lingered anyway, clinging to the back of his throat like a film. It didn’t belong with the herbs. It was too smooth for sickness. Too deliberate.

ADRIANA I twist and turn, but I can’t get into a good position. I try to turn on my side but something is limiting my range of motion, or someone. My whole side is warm and it sparkles, the air around me smells like sweet cardamon, black pepper and some hints of cedar wood. I open my eyes and look through the corner of my eye to the man beside me, softly snoring and lost in a deep sleep. I struggle to remember who he is and why I feel so at ease laying beside him. Than like a tidal wave the memories of the other night flood me, washing over me and leaving me breathless.

“Cancer was the first honest thing. It didn't pretend to love me. It didn't ask me to smile. It just told the truth and took what it wanted.” My hands sweat and I wipe them on my dress and I keep moving. “When I say he married my womb, people think I'm bitter,” I read. “I am. Bitter is what you taste when you spit the poison out. Bitter is the aftertaste of survival. But inside that bitterness there's something else. There's the small girl who loved words and didn't know contracts, and the woman who learned to be soft with herself after the world was not. I'm writing for her. Not for him. Not for you. For the girl who thought bleeding meant she failed.”