Diary Of A Passion Novels & Stories

My fingers ache with the urge to look him up online, to tell him everything I never got to say. But I promised myself I wouldn’t. He made his choice. Damn it, Nego... how can I still love you? This was one of the hardest entries. The longing. The love she compared to a tumor. The obsessive curiosity. The choice not to look for him. And then the ending. Damn it, Nego... how can I still love you? Edgar slowly closed the diary. For several long seconds, he simply sat there, staring into nothing. The office was silent.

And I was lying naked in the billionaire’s bed, dripping with his release, waiting for him to come back and use me again. The door opened and closed. Locked. Damien crossed the room without a word, stripped the sweatpants off, and climbed over me. He was fully hard again, thick and heavy, the head already slick. He didn’t ask. He simply lined up and pushed back into me in one long, relentless stroke until he bottomed out.

As she slurred her words, I approached her with determination. That was enough talking; it was time for action. “I wonder if Diana has…” I swallowed the rest of her words along with her mouth. She wasn’t expecting the kiss, as her body went stiff. For a moment, she just sat still while I hungrily took in her lower lip. Her eyes fluttered shut, and she relaxed into me, returning the kiss but slowing it down into something more passionate. Her hands found their way to my head and started fondling my hair. She pulled at the band until my hair broke free from its hold and flowed down my shoulders. She giggled into my lips, and I couldn’t suppress the guttural sound that erupted from my throat.

He didn't dare believe she could love him, but she felt emotion, not just lust, and it was enough for him. "You're so tight, Diana, and so damn hot, I think I'm going to come out of this scorched for life." Nothing in his life, not even his most erotic fantasies, had prepared him for sharing Diana's body. She gasped his name again, the small, helpless plea for release tearing his last thread of control so that he caught her hips in his arms, holding her still while he plunged deep, over and over, the passion washing through him, sizzling and crackling and roaring like thunder in his ears. He felt her spasm around him, gripping tightly, her soft cries mingling with his strangled ones. The sen

I frowned. He kissed me and closed his eyes "I know it does. It'll be over soon. Just 5 more centimeters. That's like nothing" "Nothing for you who's not feeling his hips spread apart by the minute!" I said hastily. "Sorry" he muttered as Francine, David, Dan, and Allison all stormed into the room. "This is so exciting! David where's the camera?" She asked while fishing around in her purse. I groaned and covered my face with my hands as she began to snap pictures of everything.

Safe. Passion was a roller-coaster, an explosive force, a whirlwind, and he suddenly knew that was what Divyanshi Trilok represented, what he'd felt caught up in while he was with her… passion in all its range and dimensions. It was pervasively disturbing. And intensely alluring.

She cried with pleasure in my ears, then her body shuddered with a delicious orgasm that engulfed her. Arousal rushed over me from her beautiful moans. I roared, slamming into her one last time before I flooded her with my seed. I growled, my body tense, and I gritted my teeth as I pulsed into her, flooding her. As I collapsed Lydia , drained of energy, I couldn't help but loathe myself for the grave sin I had committed against Fiona.

He said, wearing his clothes. “Go and get a mistress to fulfil your lust.” I spat. “Shut up.” He hissed and went to the bathroom as I began to laugh. “Can’t control yourself?!” I shouted at him. “Fantasize about me, Blaze!” I shouted, bursting my emotions as a tear rolled down my cheek. It was an unavoidable and unbreakable passion, it took away our senses, bewitched us and no matter how much I deny, I knew his every word was true and I hated it.

The embarrassment from earlier came rushing back, ten times worse than before. Everything I had written in that diary; every single word; was about him. About his dick, his fingers, the tattoo on his chest and neck, his hair, every goddamn thing about him and about the things I imagined doing with him. About how desperately, pathetically, I was in love with him. And he had it. There was no fucking way Dean Billie found a diary and didn't open it. I pressed both hands against my face and let out a breath that shook on the way out.

I admit it. I’m terrible at keeping promises. It’s almost eleven at night when I gather my class materials, because I’m always the last to leave Diana Velares’s classroom. Yes, I want her to notice me. I’ve been chasing that for three years. I know she knows my name. I counted the times she spoke to me. The times she nodded approvingly while handing me back exams with perfect scores.