Diary Of A Passion Novels & Stories

All-day, Bianca had been really annoyed by Xavier's words. For Bianca, Xavier is a person full of confidence. Who would want to seduce a cruel man like him? That's what Bianca had in mind. Sweat dripped down her face, tired from working all day made her body feel weak again. When it was getting late, Bianca returned to her room. Bianca was a little surprised to find a pile of clothes on the bed. With a limp, the woman approached and found a piece of paper on top of the shirt.

he ignored my question and called the server. “Do you have anything spicy here?” “Um...like what?” “Never mind, Do you have French fries?” “Yes.” “I will bring it.” When the server left, he turned to me. “Then what’s that note? Any study stuffs.” “It’s my diary. I will write about myself and my daily life. But I don’t feel like writing it anymore” “Why?” he said without taking his eyes off me. “Cause nothing good happens in my life, so why should I have one. I want life to be happy, interesting with a little of passion, adventure, love which I never found.”

“I don’t want you to lose your job. They stared at each other with mutual understanding. And suddenly, they were painfully aware that they were alone in the house. She got excited and could almost feel her wetness slide down her thigh as her chest heaved up and down. Without warning, Elio moved towards her, lust and darkness in his eyes.

She is mine. It was all there. The diary started when I was a teenager. This arrogant, tyrannical Mafia boss, my sworn enemy, had been secretly, almost pathologically, obsessed with me for years, like a worshipper at a twisted shrine. Just as I was reeling, the study door opened. Lorenzo stood in the doorway, his eyes full of a deep, dark despair. "Back again? Stealing my secrets for that man?" He gave a hollow, bitter laugh, his voice thick with exhaustion. "Daisy, my patience has a—"

“Who needs you to hang around me?” “As I was saying you just continue being you, he’ll change one day, my son isn’t a bad guy, he’s just angry I arranged his marriage without informing him” Florence said, placing a hand on Angela’s shoulder. “Really?” Angela asked. “Of course, follow me, I’ll show you everything about his growing up” Florence took Angela by the arm and went up the stairs. She took her to a room that had a lot of young boy stuffs in it, the painting on the wall was blue, the bedsheets were also blue, the rug, everything was blue. Florence took out a magazine and sat on the bed with Angela and began telling her more about Trenton. Angela heard from Florence that Trenton was a

Giving kisses and soft touches that make Al's passion burn even more. "Damn it!" Al cursed when one of the woman's naughty hands squeezed the proof of his passion from under his pants. Instead of being afraid, the women laughed at Al's expression, which was filled with passion. "Satisfy me!" Al said to the two women. getting permission, the two women quickly stripped Al but not to the point where he was completely naked. T-shirt still stuck in one hand and pants still stuck in both legs.

His eyes raked down my body, top ridden up to expose the undersides of my breasts, bum shorts already damp at the crotch. “Fuck,” he breathed. He shoved my thighs apart with his knee and settled between them, pressing his hips down so I could feel how hard he was. Thick. Long. Straining against the soft cotton of his sweats. I moaned at the contact. He rocked once, slow, deliberate. The ridge of him dragged right over my clit through the thin layers of fabric. My back bowed. “You’re soaked,” he said against my throat. “Just from me reading your diary?”

My face turns bright red with shame and overwhelming arousal, I can’t speak. Dean’s hands roam down my body, sliding between my legs, two thick fingers glide over my swollen clit and push deep inside my soaked pussy. “So fucking wet already,” he groans, pumping his fingers slowly. “Your diary made me so hard every night, now I finally get to have what I’ve been craving.”

I don't know if I should like him more for being honorable or hate him for not finding me attractive at all. “Now, you do?” “I still don't.” “Oh!” “Not really.” He sighs. “It's still weird.” “Because you've never tried thinking about it.” “You have?” “Countless times.” I admit. His eyes flash with passion. “In different positions.” I add. “Chelsea,” he groans. I lean forward, my eyes fixed on him. He knows what I intend to do and doesn't move away. The first contact of my lips with his has me reeling with pleasure. It feels better than I had imagined, a thousand times.