Novel & Cerita Dear Diary Book

On the morning of the fourth day, I began the "Pilgrimage." Before I left, I went to the manor's abandoned library. It was filled with moldy books and broken furniture, and the air smelled of decaying paper. But on a shelf in the deepest corner, I found a special diary. The cover was dark brown leather, with "Book of Laments" embroidered in gold thread. I opened the first page and saw elegant handwriting. "Here are recorded the stories of every soul in this manor, their pain, their despair, and their final wishes..."

I was in disbelief that Henry could actually have a thing for literature. Checking through the books, I noticed a black diary which laid under the books and it got me curious. I don't know why, but having to read Henry's diary became an urge that I could not resist. I picked up the book and flipped it's pages opened. All the stuff he wrote bored the hell out of me and I was about giving up on the diary when I saw a recent write up and it had my name written. Dear Diary It's been long since I last opened you. I guess life issues could actually make one forget a friend. Anyways, lots have happened over the past few months. I have hit my ninety nine mark on the register of girls I will fuck bef

“Hate me all you want, little doll. It makes your pu**y taste sweeter.” He pulled me tighter against him. I could feel him pressing hard against me through his pants. My breath came faster. “Dante… this is wrong,” I whispered. “Wrong feels good, doesn’t it?” He turned my face to his and kissed me roughly. His tongue pushed into my mouth, claiming, demanding. I tried to pull back but he held my jaw and deepened the kiss until I was moaning into his mouth. When he broke the kiss, I was panting. He stood up, lifting me easily, and carried me to the wide leather couch. He laid me down and knelt between my legs, pushing the red dress up to my waist. “Look at these pretty p**nties,”

“I’m sorry about your mother. “I say softly to her, and she smiles at me. That same bitter smile that she’s smiled at me for the second time today. In a bid to get her mind off her late mother, I speak again. “Tell me. What did you want to ask for Piccola? “I question, and she looks at me funny. “Piccola? What does that mean? “She questions, and I smile. “It means little one. “I reply, and she pouts. “I’m not so little. But I understand why I might look small to you. You are so big. “She says, and I laugh lightly at her adorable logic. “You’re right. I’m sorry. You’re a big girl. “I correct and she smiles. I am about to ask for her request again when drags herself up into a sitting position.

Now she looked like… a diva in a size 4 body… a pear shape that Damian’s coat could not hide from his almond eyes, long sexy legs that would look perfectly hot if thrown above his shoulders, and a face so fine he could cum from watching her squirm in pleasure while she trembled beneath him. Yep. That was wild, but somewhere in the darkest part of his heart, he had envisioned the nastiest things he shouldn’t have when Damian said he was bringing her home. A few years back. Maybe two or three. He had stumbled upon her I*******m page. Weird, but he created an I*******m page for the first time in his life but it was to stalk his best friend not so naive sister. His gaze lingered on hers for a mo

He frowned and pulled out one of the books that didn’t look nearly as old as the ones I had looked at before and handed it to me. “Here, this should answer all your questions about how we came to be the way we are. I have some things to take care of. I will see you later.” I couldn’t help but feel guilty at his sudden departure and hoped that I hadn’t said something wrong. I found my blanket and sat down, slowly opening the book to read whatever it was that Fynn wanted me to know this time. “February, 2nd 1803” It was yet another diary, but this one was further along than the previous ones I had read.

Keep shining my beautiful baby girl. This was getting weirder and weirder. I opened the diary and began reading: "My dear princess, On this day,the 25th of Augus 1995,I had thought of keeping a diary for you to reflect on for years to go.I wanted it to be one that you would thoroughly enjoy me reading to you.I swe us reading it togther years to come and I would be so proud of you my love that.As I stare at your little fit it's a wonder how you were able to come out of me but you did and that had made me the happiest mother in the whole world and I cant wait to see you grow but I do want to be with you in every moment of your life.You are such a light to both your father and I and you would m

Deagan looked down at the object in his hand, Aria had gotten him a personalised diary with the name “Deagan Lockheart” and signed off in the name “Ivan D’Heart” below, engraved on the leather cover. The diary was exactly the same as the one his father kept and filled with various notes on markets and business tactics. He had a feeling one of his siblings or Andrew had something to do with it, but it didn’t bother him, because he loved the gift and the limited edition Mont Blanc Fountain Pen that matched the diary perfectly.

"You could say that." I didn't appreciate his cryptic reply. "You found me, so obviously you already know the answer. How did you find me, by the way?" His lips curled up, satisfaction, back on his face. He walked around his desk and opened the top drawer. When he pulled out a small leather bound book, I inhaled sharply -it was my diary! My journal where I wrote all of my nonsense, little girl thoughts and where I drew picture after picture, all things I found beautiful. He must have salvaged it from the fire.

Chapter 1 - The Red Dot The call came on a Tuesday afternoon, and I was already losing hope. I'd been sprawled across my bed for three hours, thumb aching from scrolling, eyes blurry from squinting at listing photos that all looked the same. Grainy kitchen shots. Bedrooms with weird stains on the carpet. Bathrooms that made me want to shower with my shoes on. Every affordable place was a disaster, and every nice place cost more than I made in a month.