Romans & histoires Collection Of Short Stories

The ones with a pair of red lips barely touching the head of a stiff cock or a woman pushed down onto a plush bed by a man taking her from behind. Often, she had fantasies developed around these pictures, ones she typed down for her blog - ones she brought with her to bed late at night. She looked at a picture of a tall strong man holding a limp and naked girl in his burly arms, his face hidden by the shadow as he held his prize before him. Claimed by him. Inspired, Ella put the book aside and rummaged around some more in the box. At the very bottom her fingers brushed by something firm and long-just what she was looking for.

, I heard Celeste's voice from the stairs. Both our heads tilted in her direction, and her eyes met ours. She hung up her call and faced us I always knew Celeste was tempting, but right now I had no adjective to describe how she looked in those skimpy shorts and tank top. The shorts cut halfway through her butt, revealing her white ass cheeks. “Hi, Celeste”, Carti greeted from where we were seated. “Hey, Carti”, she replied with a smile, her gaze shifting to me before she looked away.

THIS NOVEL WILL SERVE AS A BONUS FOR THOSE WHO WANT IT... IT IS LIKE A PERSONAL STORY ON IT'S OWN AND IT'LL BE LONGER THAN THE REST, THANKS. don't be confused, the numbers in the chapter title in the bracket are the total chapters of this novel altogether, the ones before the bracket is the amount of chapters of the current story you're reading...thanks loves, enjoy! TITLE- SWEET SINS OF BELLA BLURB

Architecture, one she expected, and a collection of short stories by a Japanese writer she'd heard of but hadn't read. "Mrs. Tan used to read to me," he said, before she asked. "Short stories specifically. She said novels required too much commitment from the listener." Lena looked at the collection. "Was she right." "About most things." He looked at what she was holding, the undecided third book. "Get it," he said. "I'm not sure about it." "The fact that you're still holding it is the decision." He moved toward the counter.

Juliette had heard these horror stories from the previous receptionist. As she got closer to the door, she heard a thud as if he had thrown his shoe at the wall. He threw things, but most often his shoes, she’d learned. She bit her lip at the thought that at least it wasn’t an employee’s head. In the brief silence that followed the thud, she slowly opened the door to his office. He was still on the phone and beckoned her to enter. She shut the door behind her and began to lay out the lunch that she had brought on the long table mostly covered in papers by his desk.

Short terrifying stories that leave you insomnolent . . . definitely a must read to while away time and get sleepless with fear, hahaha. I don't own any of this stories. I found them in some creepy books. I'm thinking of writing my own scary stories, but not anytime soon. You can send me your short stories for a feature if you feel like it. Thanks for reading. Enjoy! While you're at it, you can check out my other profile @KinahFeels.

Sara "Please, listen to me, Layla," I said, voice shaky as I stepped into the room. Her hands were jerking open drawers, yanking clothes from the wardrobe with quick, angry movements. T-shirts, sweaters, everything she could grab—tossed into a pile on the bed. She wasn't looking at me. "Layla—please," I said again, stepping closer. She spun around. Her eyes were red, burning. Her voice was like a slap.

Clara spent the morning pretending to work and failing. The desk in her room held a neat stack of folders Dominic had sent up with a short note. Review the contracts. Flag any dates in red. Return by noon. She did it in ninety minutes and then stared at the window as if the glass might tell her what would happen after eight. She told herself she was just curious. She knew better. Curiosity did not make your body feel light and your skin too warm. Curiosity did not make you check the hall twice to see if he was there.

The office was dead silent, the kind of stillness that only fell after 9 p.m. on a Friday. Most of the lights on the top floors were off, casting long shadows through the glass panels of Holt Enterprises. Eva Collins stood at the elevator, arms wrapped around a folder that contained the last-minute pitch her boss had demanded before vanishing into his corner office earlier that evening. She hated staying late. But when Grayson Holt said “stay,” you didn’t argue. You obeyed.

Cole sat at the desk there, hunched slightly over his laptop, completely focused on whatever code or spreadsheet he was working through. He had come straight from the gym earlier and never bothered to put on a shirt. Sweat still glistened along the ridges of his abdomen, highlighting every cut of his six-pack. The low light from the desk lamp caught the definition and made his skin look warm, inviting, and almost edible. I swallowed hard and tried to look away. It did not help that I had overheard Sarah talking about him last weekend at the coffee shop. She had leaned across the table, voice low and conspiratorial, describing in vivid detail how Cole had made her see stars twice in one night