Click Clack Books Novels & Stories

I asked, leaning against the bookcase. “No reason,” Clara said, now grinning openly. “You are not angry?” “Nope.” “Upset?” “Nope.” “Have questions?” Clara pulled a book from the shelf one about a myth passed down only among those with wolf blood. She studied it for a few seconds, then opened it and flipped through the pages. “I already know mostly everything,” Clara said with a smirk. My lips curved upward and I stepped closer, trapping her between my body and the bookcase. I ran my fingers lightly up the sides of her arms and felt her shiver. She tensed and stopped turning the pages, her breath catching.

Her books sold by the thousands: Fuck Me Until Dawn, where the protagonist was destroyed by a mafioso with a 23-centimeter cock; Fireman’s Dick — the irony of fate hitting hard now — and her most recent one, Emergency Orgasm, which had spent three straight weeks at the top of the charts. That hot Friday night, the apartment’s air conditioning was struggling against the humid heat of the city. Clara sat in the swivel chair of her improvised office, wearing nothing but a tiny black thong that was already completely soaked and an old, oversized rock band t-shirt that barely covered the lower curve of her round ass. Her heavy breasts swung freely under the thin fabric, dark hard nipples brushing

“So… what have you been basing any of these searches on?” Clay clicked his tongue, sapphire reopening as they peered down at the book he held firmly in his palms. The cover was vibrant and white, a pure echo of the boy’s hair that it was intended for. The words on the pages, lengthy and descriptive but left enough mystery to hook you within its next pages. Without even noticing it, he had been comparing the novels to the boy on the receiving end without realizing. “I suppose… I went off my own tastes.” He answered vaguely, much to the other teen’s obvious confusion. Drew’s popular face slack with puzzlement that left a few girls that walked by giggling with mirth at his expense.

"Cu8m for me again," I continued to work my fingers. This time I pushed all the way inside. I wanted to find her g-spot. Oh. There it is. I scrape across it and Ana bucks, almost dislodging me. I pull my fingers across that special spot, again and again until she's writhing. Then I lean down and take her cli8t in my mouth.

She followed Willow around the corner and into an aisle labeled Biographical Histories. Willow stopped in front of the third shelf and ran her puffy hands along the spines, finally pulling out a book and handing it to Clara: Historic Crimes in Hiestora. When Clara pried it open, the book issued a hissing sound and she noticed it suddenly felt lighter in her hands. Cracking open the dusty tome, Clara noticed pictures that were moving as if the history was playing out once again inside these pages. Below the pictures were written texts of the events.

She wouldn't mind checking everything out, or whatever called her attention. There was another shelf after the award shelf. A bookshelf. It didn't contain so many books, although he had something that hooked her attention. Book of art. Clinton had a black hardcover drawing book he called Book Of Art. He used it to draw his imagination. Anthony had one too, meaning he also had an eye for art.

The door was solid oak with heavy locks. Beautiful, comfortable, and absolutely inescapable. Perfect. I reached carefully into my elaborately styled hair and extracted a small crystal, no bigger than a pearl. The communication device pulsed with soft blue light as I activated it with a whisper of power. "I am in," I whispered quietly. Static crackled for a moment before a familiar voice responded—rough, commanding, tinged with the kind of darkness that made smart people run. "About time, little wolf. Status report."

She said, rummaging through his desks. She sat on his chair and piled up a bunch of books in front of her. “This is 1,2,3,4..5 books. Five should do." She hurried back into her room and locked it. "Ain't taking any chances with that bastard. That's if he hasn't eaten his own heart off," she muttered under her breath. Claire placed the books on her desk and took one at a time, examining their covers. "'Luna, the Great.' Looks like I'll read what they say I am," she said to herself.

The air crackled with anticipation as the battlefield became our shared hunting ground. Without warning, Zack lunged at me with a lightning-fast speed, his claws extended to rend and tear. Instinctively, I dodged his attack, my agility matching his own. We moved in a deadly dance, our bodies twisting and turning, each strike and parry filled with lethal intent. I swiped at Zack with my powerful claws, but he countered with a swift dodge, retaliating with a series of ferocious bites. The clash of our fangs and the sound of our growls echoed through the night, blending with the wind that whispered through the trees.

Little me was in desperate need for love and affection, she was praying Kennedy and Robert would be a mommy and daddy. Finally came the cake, it was a chocolate cake, what little would say no to a chocolate cake, I had a generous slice that I devoured happily. Next was opening of presents for Robert he had some good ones and others he just closed back the box and gave his friends the third finger making me giggle. I stayed silent watching him open all his gifts giving thanks to each one for the none offending ones, lastly was Kennedy’s gift, it was the book she got from my job. He must he a bookworm like me. My little side wanted him to read me bed time stories.