Do You Want To Know How I Got These Scars Mga Nobela at Kwento

The cold air hit me on the chest but it was soon replaced by the heat of Maxim’s mouth. “Oh fuck.” I arched my back, subconsciously pushing my breasts further into him. He pushed me back so I was lying down and started kissing down my body. He kissed a particular spot on my ribs. “You never told me how you got your scars.” I tensed at the question. I thought Maxim didn’t care about it. He had never brought it up. He never made it obvious that he saw them whenever I was naked. It was weird. We had never talked about it and I was hoping we never did.

I eye her suspiciously at her sudden formality, and I wonder if Liam is inside. “Well...” She falters. “You look beautiful, by the way.” I blurt out and realize that I have been looking up and down her body with a smirk. Her cheeks turn bright red, and she breaks eye contact. “Thank you,” she whispers. “But I have scars.” “I know, and they look new, but scars tell stories.” I stare at them, and I wince, while thinking about how she might have had a traumatic experience during our day and night at Carkeek Park. “And I’m curious to know how you got them.” I continue.

Dangerous. Her gaze drifted to my chest, to the scars that crisscrossed my skin. Old shrapnel wounds from the border wars. A knife scar from a duel in the barracks. I stiffened. I wanted to cover myself. I didn't want her to see the damage. I didn't want her to see the map of violence etched into me. "You have a lot of scars," she said softly. Her fingers hovered over a jagged white line near my shoulder. "I have lived a long life," I said curtly.

The way he looked at me as though I had slipped through his fingers, though I wasn’t sure I’d ever been in his hands to begin with. Was that even a fight? I wasn’t sure. It hadn’t been shouting or doors slamming. Just silence. Silence with an edge sharp enough to cut through bone. I sat up with a sigh, swinging my legs off the bed. My scars prickled under the moonlight, old marks etched into my skin like someone else’s handwriting. I reached for the jar on the nightstand,the cream Malrik had left without a word weeks ago. Scar removal. Expensive. Rare. I rubbed it carefully over my arms, my collarbone, down to my legs. Slow circles, like erasing an old story.

Those scars were my problem. My heart was convinced she didn't have those at the time she was captured. And I was very certain I didn't do that to her, which leaves a huge blank spot in the story of how she got such terrible scars hidden in the delicate parts of her body. “And the scars? Is there something you can tell me about those scars?” I ticked, losing patience by the second. The doctor took another long look at the scars, and another long look at me. “I'm afraid this is as a result of the witch's bane.” She says slowly, scared of my reaction.

“Oh my god your covered in scars” “Yeah” I mumbled while looking at my feet “You poor thing, no wonder none of the guys are trying to get with you. Your damaged goods, I thought my boobs looked bad with the scars after my surgery, but you are covered in scars, and you don’t even have large boobs to make up for it”.

I run my fingers through them with some hair product and let it dry naturally. I take a moment to look at my naked body in the full-length mirror. I rubbed my hand over the small scar that stretched across my lower abdomen. It’s been years, and it still hasn’t faded. My body is covered in small cut-like scars and needle pricks that I had received when I was just a small child. My back had the most scars, but once I was old enough, and when my father was out of town, I went into the human town and had them covered up with a very large full-back tattoo portrait. I still have one scar that I refuse to cover since it was a reminder of where I came from and where I will never be again. It is on t

I could feel his member pushing on my thigh through the jeans. He lifted me up slightly removing my shirt. His eyes widened as he saw the scar covering from my shoulder to the bottom of my ribs. I had forgotten about it in the moment. I could sense his anger rolling off him as he focused on the imperfections of my body. He leaned in and kissed me passionately. I felt his bare chest press against mine as my body gushed, soaking my panties. A deep groan came from his chest as if he knew exactly what he was doing to me.

her eyes not leaving the perimeter, searching for an exit. “I know you will. We need to talk first." She paces around, not looking at me. “We really don’t. I was there listening when you and Elle congratulated yourselves on ruining me-” “What do you think these scars are?” quickly ripping at the top of my black shirt, hurling my chainmail to the ground. Buttons flew, but I needed her to see the state of my shoulders and throat. “How do you think I got these?” “I don’t care anymore!”

I stammered. She stood up and walked out of the room, returning with a mirror in hand. I stared at the huge scar on my face, tracing its jagged edges with my fingertips. It was a familiar shape, yet somehow foreign. I tried to recall the story behind it, but my mind was blank. “How did I get this scar?” I wondered, “Was it a childhood accident, a fight, or a careless mistake?” The more I stared, the more elusive the memory became. It's as if my brain is hiding the truth, leaving me with only questions.