Deep Skin Sleeping Skin Imprints Novels & Stories

I groaned, knowing there was no way I would get any more sleep before the obnoxious beeping started. My skin felt clammy, the evaporating sweat leaving a chilled film on my skin. The old band shirt I'd doubled as pajamas was still damp along my back. Frustration surged as I kicked back the heavy duvet and crossed the small apartment to the attached bathroom. The ancient pipes groaned as I turned on the shower, waiting for the water to reach the head. My reflection in the bathroom mirror revealed dark circles etched themselves beneath my blue—almost indigo eyes. A reminder that I wasn't just my mother's child but that I carried a legacy of a man who'd abandoned his responsibilities before I e

I turned on the light and slid out of bed. My feet were dragging as I entered the master bath, rubbing my tired eyes in an attempt to wake up. I stopped in front of the mirror and stared at my reflection, shocked at what I saw. My normal bird’s nest of blonde hair and the dark circles from lack of sleep were present. What wasn’t normal were the black and purple marks that marred my skin. There were handprints on my hips from where he’d grabbed me, imprints of his teeth around my neck and shoulders, and small bruises along my chest. It was cold out, so I could get away with a high-collared shirt. I stared at myself for a moment. Was that really what I should’ve been concerned about? If his te

Although he usually doesn’t sleep on his side, because I sleep on top of him. Damn. Well now he looks comfortable enough. I inch closer and wrap my arm around his waist and keep looking at him. I feel myself blinking but I fight the sleep as hard as I can. I really need to keep an eye on him. But even with my best effort I fall asleep. Suddenly I snap awake. I immediately check Sebastian, he’s good. Oh, wait. What in the world… I pull the blankets away and take a look at him. Now HIS skin is glowing and there are the same kind of white-hologram-type of patterns swirling. Like some sort of tribal tattoos. What the hell, what does this mean.

The lovey-dovey marathon with no breaks, the sultry kisses, and the rest; though it wasn't the first time, last night was more intense than she ever imagined. "Okay, enough thinking dirty; it's time to prepare for the day," she snapped out of her thoughts and strolled to the bathroom. After donning herself in a bathrobe, she strolled past the mirror, catching a glimpse of her radiant complexion. Her flawless skin, except for the subtle reminder of last night's muss—a delicate strawberry-shaped mark on her neck and shoulders—lay meticulously on her skin, Zack's drawn tattoos of passion.

A tendency for her skin to look sallow, and dark circles that materialized under her eyes as soon as she even thought about not getting eight hours of sleep a night. Right now, they looked like bottomless craters, and Gloriana reached for her magic concealer pen to hide the damage of another night with very little sleep. Discarding the towel, she had wrapped around her body, Gloriana donned her silk robe and felt the flow of the fabric across her sensitized skin. Her breasts firmed and peaked, and just like that she was back in Griffin’s living room with his mouth sweetly tugging on her flesh. ‘Stop thinking about it,’ she berated herself.

His gaze remained locked on the marks—deep purple now, the distinct imprint of his fingers clearly visible like a violent tattoo. “It hurts, doesn’t it?” he whispered, his fingers hovering just above the bruised skin, tracing the shape without actually touching. I forced a laugh that sounded brittle even to my own ears. “Hurts? Pfft.” I waved a dismissive hand. “It doesn’t. Just a little sore, that’s all. It’s actually nothing, you know. I haven’t been able to get a proper tan in months, so my skin is extra pale right now. Any little touch leaves a mark. Plus, you have a very strong grip. Deadly combo.” I shrugged, trying desperately to sound casual. “And the skin around my neck has always b

Gingerly getting out of the bed, I ordered the maids to help me with my bath before going to stand in the full length mirror in the room, assessing my body. Red and purple patches adorned my pale skin, red marks surrounded my neck and my nipples looked bigger than their original size, still very sensitive. Even my thighs and buttocks still bore his handprints and my waist and abdomen, held his possessiveness. I closed my eyes, shaking my head. Alpha king keiran truly is an animal.

Yet, that girl and her touch and lips, had my body burning in an overdrive l never expected my tired soul to indulge. I walked out of the shower, wiping my dripping hair with a white towel. I picked up my sweatpants and my boxer, heading back into the bathroom to put them on. I hissed at the reflection in the mirror, I was pale as heck, nearly caucasian or worse. My dull eyes looking hollow with red coloration on the skin surrounding my eyelids, eye bags adorned underneath my eye. Courtesy of my sleepless nights. I rarely sleep, my mind is never at rest to actually sleep or maybe insomnia had already seeped deeper into my system than I had expected.

Almost an entire week passed by, I kept on having this exotic dreams, where the man and I kept fucking each other with unspoken lust and desire, he always behaved like a true animal with me on my bed, except on our first day we never really spoke a word, I heard his intoxicant voice only when he was panting or moaning in pleasure. I was enjoyed my pleasurable time with him until one day when I looked in mirror while bathing, I felt myself become more beautiful, I saw some additional volume in my honey brown hairs, my skin looked more flawless, my green eyes looked more striking and doe like, even my lips felt plumy and full, does this kind of dream affect one beauty? Was this some kind of So

"When did you come home?" "Last night. You were already asleep," 'Sleep early. You don't want to get bags under your eyes.' She reminded me every night. 'Take good care of your body. Your skin. You need it for the rest of your life,' The life lessons that I dreaded at first but after realising how much it was good for me, I started to understand better. Even when I was a teenager, acne never struck me—probably once or twice in a couple of years but it wasn't even half as bad. It would pop out of nowhere and then gone the next day, leaving only a fading scar.