Do You Want To Know How I Got These Scars Novels & Stories

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.

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.

I had scars too, heck I even have one on my mouth, but none as frightening as the long one on her back. I tried continuing as if I saw nothing, but after that, I started to look for more of her scars. She had them everywhere. In the most obvious places, too, but I never bothered to look. I felt so enraged and wanted to ask where she got them, but I don't think I could ever forgive myself if her fragile self rekindled those traumas that she tried so hard to heal from.

Ann struggled to pull his hand from her neck. “ let me go you bastard” Ann whispered getting short of breath. “ Or what?” He smirked. “ What can you......?” he started but Ann scratch his face so hard, he loosened his grip, as one unfortunate finger entered her mouth and she bit it so hard she tasted blood. “ what the hell!” he groaned as ann pushed him away and gave him the hardest kick in the groin she could muster up. He fell to the ground writhing in pain. Ann was unsure where to go, but knew she had to leave as quickly as possible. So she ran until she jolted into someone.

When my mate peeked at me through the gaps between her fingers, her ears turned red. How adorable. "It's almost the same as being naked!" She squealed and I snorted, amused. She turned away and lowered herself onto the bench by the pool. "How did you get that scar?" She asked, pointing at the thick scar on my right thigh. She gazed at me with curious eyes, watching me as I slipped on my bathrobe. "I was seven years old when I got the scar," I began. Her eyes widened, horror flashing in her eyes. "The pain must have been unbearable," she winced.

Doom. “You don't have to tell me. Your scar says it all.” “Oh, this.” I chuckle, pointing at the scar on my face. I have a straight scar that starts at just below my eyebrow and extends down to my upper cheek, where it ends. And what can I say? It fucking makes me stand out. I hate and despise how I got it, but this scar has made me who I am today. “It is meant to scare you, actually. And I still got the looks. Women love me.” I deadpan and it's not as if I'm bluffing.

he grinned brightly and I shrugged my shoulders. I stood under the warm spray, the king's release flowing down my inner thighs. What in the world was I thinking? I frowned and scrubbed myself occasionally bumping into the man himself. He asked for the soap and I dropped the bar into his hand. He grinned at me and I rolled my eyes as I started washing my hair. I felt him touching my back scars again. "How did you get these," he asked me. "From a whip for stealing food," I mumbled softly and he laughed. I turned and scowled at the ass. I shook my head and exited the shower drying myself off quickly. I wrapped the towel around myself and watched Mortas drying himself.

A smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth, the kind that said he already knew exactly why I was really here. “Freya. You actually showed up. Figured you might chicken out and text me some lame excuse.” I swallowed hard, trying to steady my breathing. “Nah, I’m here. This scar has been messing with my head for years. I fell off my bike when I was a kid, ripped my thigh open on some rusty fence. It’s ugly as shit and I’m sick of covering it up every time I put on shorts or a bikini. I just want it gone.”

"I have scars too, Casey; some faded and some will always remain. I covered up a fair few of them but believe me. You're beautiful, baby. You are so beautiful, I don't care about what you look like. The scars show you survived. It's part of you and if you don't like them, then that's also okay; you can do whatever you want to them. Tattoos or skin grafting, of they allow that or if it's even a thing to do,. Let me look after you" His strides come over to me quickly and all though I feel scared and exposed, even though I haven't taken anything off, I nod my head and begin with my socks. I have a scar on my foot from where they burned cigarette buds into my foot at the top and I have chain sca

They were not so obvious. Her finger drifted to another one that wasn't as large as the scar beneath the tattoo but was also visible, and she asked. "How did you get this one?" "During one of the beatings, he pushed me so hard I crashed into a glass table and it broke," Adonis replied, and a tear rolled down Cara's face again. He didn't even think about the one she was touching first. He just said it like he had it memorized. "How did you even know the one I was asking about? Don't tell me you recognize each scar and when you got it."