Chéri Novels & Stories

She goes to sway her hips and I move my body against hers, causing her to lean her head back on my shoulder, "my game now ma chéri." "Damn you speak French?" She whispers as I push closer to her. "Oui ma chéri," I reply and she closes her eyes. We continue dancing, a torturous battle for the two of us but neither of us are willing to step down. We get to the point where we are finally facing each other and it's fucking hard to keep my hands away. I run them up and down her sides as she sways her whole body to the beat, her hands thrown up in the air. She looks like a damn angel right now. Her bright red hair bouncing around her,

“Hot chocolate classic one, please.” “Okay. Hot chocolate classic. Don’t you want to order our food or dessert?” “No, thank you.” “Please wait a minute.” I put my back on the chair. Then cross my hands in front of my chest. I took a breath and breathed it slowly, trying to concentrate. Then, I closed my eyes to make my hearing senses sharper. “May I know your name?” the man asked. “Claire Anderson.” “Beautiful.” “P-pardon?” “Ah—I’m sorry. Your name is beautiful,” replied him while clearing his throat.

Darwin's question seemed unrelated to the current situation, Biba thought. "You're Cherish's friend, right? I heard it so. But how come you don't know how to stimulate a guy's thing? Are you sure you're friend?" Now Biba is not even sure whether Cherish is a real friend or not. . . . Her hands gripped tightly on the balcony railing of her room. Along with the night crickets chirping loudly. Biba cursed. “CHERISH KALILI! ARGH!! Dogtahiasemsa$%#%mahfucctustupidgubluk#$@#$!”

"No, get off, I don't want you to mark me" Confused I get up, first, she's upset because I haven't marked her then she says she doesn't want me to mark her, confused is an understatement. She then sits on my lap and wraps her legs around my waist and says "I like your way better, I want you to make our marking special and yes I will be your wife, your love , your everything and if your good I'll even be your whore in the bedroom and just for the record I'm a virgin too"

Upon getting to her front, he leaned over her desk and whispered into her ear. “ Be prepared. I'm a devil and I will be willing to show you to hell.” He smirked darkly at her and walked over to his seat for the next class. Ellie, Prince Killian's girlfriend, glared daggers at Nicki who simply rolled her eyes. Just when Alpha Prince Killian wanted to take his seat, Nicki spoke up. “ Thank you for the invitation. I'm willing to go to hell with you. I bet it would be fun.” She said aloud for everyone to hear.

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Gia Kian’s jaw flopped open, and he froze like that. I thought that I broke him until he blinked and started stammering. I could hear hearty laughter rumbling down the line, and then a male with a strong Cajun accent hollered, “Well, hello there, Mon Chere. I’m liking you already.”

His deliberate cruelty skewered Harley’s heart and she blinked back the rush of tears that burned her eyelids. “How dare you?” she whispered thickly. “Don’t try and appease your guilty conscience by blaming me. You wanted to get rid of me because you’d set your sights on Chantal Auclair. She was fresh, exciting, voluptuous… Like a juicy orange, ready to be squeezed by Armel Mathieu de Roquefort. You were determined as hell to make Chantal your next mistress, but the stupid little English ex-mistress who was pregnant with your child would have seriously… cramped your style… N’est-pas, chérie? (Isn’t it, sweetheart?)”

A raw, flat-out husky voice that oozed with an appealing sexiness which made my nipples strain so hard against the thin fabric of my sports bra, beneath my sweater. It felt like my entire being quaked and engulfed in flames. I didn't know if it was because of his name, which struck me as uncommon, sounded so unrefined, and rolled off his tongue in his accent that was pronounced this time around, or if it was the fact that he referred to me as Cherie, a word which I knew was a nickname in French, and meant 'Sweetheart.' "You should slip into something more comfortable, I am sure you don't want to spend all night in these clothes," he told me. His voice was outrightly cold and not as raw as it

I busied myself with one of the omegas, unrolling wires and connecting equipment, but my attention kept drifting to Cassy and Teddy. They were caught in their own little world. "So, what's with the accent?" Cassy teased. Teddy's reply came with a playful grin. "Just a bit of the bayou talkin', cher." "And what does 'cher' mean?" Cassy leaned in and flicked his ballcap. He'd been turning it back and forth, a habit he had when he was nervous about something. "It means 'sweetie,' 'dear,' etc. Something precious," Teddy explained, then switched to a flirtatious tone, speaking in French. "Et vous êtes certainement chère, Cassy."