Book Pillow Thoughts Mga Nobela at Kwento

He was not even a human for god's sake. I blocked all my thoughts and buried my face in his chest and fell into a deep sleep along with this broken man. I could feel the sunlight glaring at my face which tells me that it was morning already. I groaned loudly and buried my face deep in my pillow. The pillow is so soft and hard at the same time. I grazed the pillow with the tip of my fingers for a while and stopped when it started to move. Does a pillow move? I opened my sleepy eyes and came face to face with Xander. Now I remember the series of events that took place the previous night.

Who the fuck does that? I was horrified by how far the spiral took me away from all common sense, yet so unbelievably relieved when I finally felt sated after cumming two times in the shower, and one time in a towel afterwards while lying in bed. And after that, I was grateful that sleep took me away before the dark thoughts could tighten their grip around my soul and consume me. Only one thought was there when I fell asleep and was still there when I woke up. Bambi. 🌼🌼🌼

The possibility of it been Uncle Jack is too slim so I don’t want to bother asking him. After I finish leaving Amber the text, I look at the pillow wondering what to do with it when an idea pops to my head. I stand up from my chair and place the pillow under my ass and a smile graces my face as the pain in my ass reduces. Whoever got me this pillow read my mind because this is just what I needed. My butt does not hurt as much as it did the first day but it still hurts when I sit down in one spot for long, like sitting down by my desk the whole day.

I muttered, taking a deep breath, “Every time I sleep...ever since yesterday, all I dream about is… a lot of bad stuff about what’s been happening.” “Oh…I..I’m sorry I didn’t listen the first time this happened.” Poppy sincerely apologized, “Why do you think you’re having those thoughts?” “I-I don’t know. It might be because of everyone around us... leaving, but I just don’t understand it at all.” I tried to explain, before slumping myself against the wall, running a hand through my hair. “Well…” Poppy started, sitting down on the bed, “Do you think that you would feel better if you slept with someone that cared about you?”

"See this is why I can't sleep , because I'm excessively bombarded with thoughts about you," "Perish those thoughts," " It's not that easy. My mind has a mind of it's own," " Your mind has a mind of its own? What does that even mean, Maxwell?" "It's poetry," "No it's not, and even if it was , it would be the lamest poetry line in the history of poetry lines," " I'm serious,"

The question hung in the air between us, weighted with implications that neither of us wanted to voice. "We can put a pillow in between us," I offered, moving one of the throw pillows at the head of the bed to my side. The pillow was smaller than the others, covered in the same navy fabric as his towels, and it felt substantial enough to create a proper barrier. My fingers brushed against the soft cotton as I positioned it carefully down the center of the bed.

I can’t even blame myself for having these naughty thoughts because it just keeps getting better every single time we do it. I pick up the cup and take it to the kitchen, which takes thirty seconds, and now I'm still bored but in a different room. God. He's turning me into something. I don't know what exactly but it's something. Because an idle Andrea used to think about grocery lists and her brother's medication schedule. Idle Andrea now apparently thinks about one specific man and the very specific things he does and how he fucked me last night in different positions, making me come over and over until I couldn’t even remember my own name. The way his hands held me down, the sound of his v

Stephen offered no apology, simply placing the bucket down with a smirk before slipping out of the room, leaving me fuming. ***** I woke up tangled in warmth. It was delicious, so I snuggled closer, sighing contentedly. Now this was how mornings were supposed to be. But something felt…off. My body pillow had never been this comfortable before. And it smelled good, spicy and masculine, not the usual lemon-fresh scent of my laundry detergent. Wait a minute. Body pillows don't have rib cages. Panic surged through me. I cautiously opened one eye to see a wall of muscle mere inches from my face. Great. Just great. What had I gotten myself into this time?

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅• Katherine rolled onto her side, her body sinking into the mattress, the weight of her thoughts pressing down on her like an invisible force she couldn’t escape. Her fingers absentmindedly traced the seams of her pillow, as if keeping them occupied would somehow stop her mind from spiraling further into the mess she was trying to ignore.

River’s POV Sleep was impossible last night. I tossed and turned until the sheets were tangled around me like vines I couldn’t get free from. I flipped my pillow over, hoping the cool side would help, but it didn’t. The room was quiet—too quiet. That kind of silence that makes your thoughts sound louder. And mine were everywhere.