Diary Of A Passion Novels & Stories

She set it on the ottoman and opened the latch. The lock was broken. Her breath caught in her throat. “No. No, no—” she whispered. The box was empty. Her diary was gone. Her most intimate confessions, written in the rawest moments of pain and hope. Every twisted memory from Russia. Every wound Cynthia left on her skin and soul. Every moment of self-loathing, every hesitant word about Damian… even that one vivid entry—the night she gave herself to him, trembling, finally feeling safe. All of it. Gone.

Or would having sex with him be merely pleasant like everything else about him? There certainly was a connection between passion inside and outside of the bedroom where Dante was concerned. At first glance, on the surface, Dante seems reserved. In perfect control. But I know from experience that beneath that controlled exterior, an intense inferno burns. I've seen the real Dante - the one the rest of the world never gets to see. There's a fire in him, a depth of feeling that is usually only visible through his scripts. But I've seen that depth of emotion in his eyes. Felt it on my skin. Heard it in his words. He and I seem to bring out the wildness in each other.

Tristan was the devil and the reason why Josh would never talk to me again. So why then does my body keep betraying me by longing for Tristan’s touch? The thought of being in his bed tonight sent warmth rushing between my legs. “Are you blushing for the lobster or me?” Tristan asked cockily. I quickly looked away. I had no idea I was blushing. I got up from my seat. “I’m gonna use the ladies room,” I said and walked away quickly. I had to get my shit in order or…. Shit. I tripped. I shut my eyes and waited for the impact with the ground. But a strong hand held me by my wait. I opened my eyes, exhaling the breath I did not realize that I had been holding in.

And after giving them their respective rooms he went down to bring their bags and delivered them. Rose was sitting alone in her room thinking about Nick. That day, when they were leaving, for the first time Nick held her hands and his eyes were glistening with unshed tears. He loved Rose to infinity and when she was leaving him and he couldn't do anything about it, helpless tears made his way to his eyes. He was an undergraduate and till his graduation his father won't let him marry anyone. He was in a secret relationship with Rose about which only Shoaib knew but Rose was unaware of that.

The silent communion with her aspirations, though tinged with sorrow, became a celebration of a life that had touched theirs profoundly. The room, bathed in the soft glow of candlelight, became a sanctuary of shared memories and unspoken emotions as they delved deeper into Sophia's diary. The diary seemed to hold a piece of her soul, an intimate portrait of her dreams, hopes, and the profound love that had defined her existence.

Or, it may be something that I can work with him on, to get him to accept just like when it happened with Asher and Dan, and maybe even enjoy, but I chose my diary instead of confessing to my husband. It was locked down, the boys and I were on a little break and the only cock I had in my hot pussy was David, my husband. I wanted to explore, but I couldn’t since I'd vowed to the boys that I belonged to them alone. Without the boys, I turned to my diary to pen down how I met my husband.

Or will you always be chasing that first, brutal, ice-to-fire penetration on the parlor rug? You traded loneliness for an eternity with a passion that was born from despair. You warmed a ghost back to life with the heat of your own orgasms. That’s a hell of a love story. It’s also a hell of a horror story. And I think, for you, that’s exactly the point. Her thumb slipped between the pages again. “And… If this is real, can I have the address?” she added dryly. Then she opened the diary and turned to the next page.

Feeling every inch of it, my c00chie was already very wet, so it entered with ease. I felt it expand my pvssy hole, and as soon as it hit something hard, which I knew was my womb, I moaned loudly. But thanks to the rain and thunderstorms. I knew no one would hear my moans. I'm a shy person with lots of fantasies. When I was in college, I was always sitting in my corner. I had only one friend who was still the one I caught in the bush with my ex-boyfriend. Seeing her moan loudly with him on top of her just turned me on and sick at the same time. After I saw them that day, I still went home to m@sturbate, thinking of them fvvking .. and after that, I cried myself to sleep.

The night stretched long and heavy, a tapestry woven from guilt and ecstasy, past and present merging in the quiet shadows. As dawn’s pale light seeped through the curtains, painting the room in soft gold, we lay tangled together hearts pounding in unison, skin slick with sweat, breaths mingling in the fragile calm after the storm. The diary’s words echoed in my mind, a haunting reminder of the passions that had come before, and the dangerous path we now walked. Questions swirled unspoken between us: What did this mean? How far would we go? Could we ever return to who we were before?

Or maybe worse, he wanted me once and decided I wasn’t worth the damage. Just like everyone else. The thought cracked something inside me, and before I could stop it, a tear slipped free. I barely felt it roll down my cheek, barely registered it falling, until it dropped onto the page of the diary I was holding. Everything froze. The tear hit the page, and the diary reacted like it had been waiting for that exact moment. Blue fire exploded across the surface, brighter than before, alive and wild, but controlled, like it recognized me now. The pages flipped on their own, fast at first, then slower, until they stopped right in the middle of the book.