Eleven Stories Novels & Stories

Cassandra gasps as Willy, one of the oldest here, tells stories of his glory days. “Ask him how many ribs he’s missing,” I whisper to her, and her eyes widen in shock. “Four,” Willy says and holds up as many fingers. “Had them punched clean out of me.” “You’re lying,” she says with a laugh, and the sound of it heats my body from the inside out. “I’d never lie to a pretty woman,” Willy says, and his best friend George scoffs. “That’s the first person you’re lying to,” George says. “Don’t believe a word he says. But if you want to talk about real injuries, let me tell you about the time I dislocated both my hips and still won my fight.”

More, and more. End of Book 1

Ch-1 --------------------- [Warning: this story is in the 'incest' category. As a result, the mother and son in this tale might have a relationship which you might find unsettling. At the end, when they kiss each other goodnight, neither of them has to go to another bedroom. The father already sleeps there.]

Then the stupid facial recognition unlocks it for her. “Oh, he said the red velvet loaf from the coffee shop is amazing.” “Do not respond to him.” The phone goes off again. “Oh, he’s sexting you now.” “What!” I try to grab the phone from her. “He is not.” There is no way, and Briar cackles before finally handing the phone over. “It’s a link to an article about crypto projects.” Damn, there are already three that have launched this year. We’re barely into February.

Stephen Brock. The man continued spreading lies online almost daily. Interviews. Fake stories. Anonymous articles painting himself like the victim. At this point, it wasn’t even about heartbreak anymore. It was revenge. And honestly? I was tired of being quiet. One afternoon Amelia walked into Sebastian’s office holding a thick folder while looking unusually excited. “You’re going to love this.” Sebastian looked up from his laptop calmly. “What is it?” Amelia dropped the folder dramatically onto the desk. “Evidence.”

She laughed and thought to herself "my weakness is teachers". -Well, I already told you my whole life story. Of course, when she told her life story she didn't include Gabriel. -Well look my life is not that interesting it is very common I have a family that does not live here my family is European I came to visit this country and I stayed here my family is a very traditionalist family they come from time to time to see me and I also go there from time to time I have two more brothers they live with my parents and I am a professor at several universities, so as you see my life is not very interesting.

"Now, stop your childish games One and tell me where Eleven is…and don't you dare tell me that you don't know." One started shivering visibly in fear. "I really went to the room to change my shoes, I mean it" she sobbed. "But as I got there, Eleven knocked me out with a lamp. See…”. One placed her hands at the back of her head and on bringing it out, it was stained with blood. Did Eleven who I'd always likened to be weak actually attack One? How long has she been planning this escape for?

Katherine asked, cutting the silence in half. As a child, the only thing that would bring Katherine comfort was storytelling and as she grew up she became more intrigued by novels and the writings of experts. To Katherine, stories were a kind of safe place where her imagination could run as wild and as free as it pleases. Lucian leaned forward and Katherine began to adjust where she was seated until she was face to face with him. The fire that was still burning cast a shadow on half of his face but his red eyes continued to glow dark but vibrant.

"Is this supposed to be my rap sheet?" Dexter Carrington asked, barely glancing at the diary before setting it down. He wrapped his arms around my waist from behind. "Come on, Ivy, knock it off. Brianna and I just finished a huge project. I'm dead on my feet, and I really don't have the energy to deal with this right now." He didn't have the energy? I looked down. The phone in his hand was still lit up, open to a conversation with Brianna Holt.

Clara, one of the few maids I’d grown somewhat close to, was looking at me with concern. “You’ve been spacing out a lot lately,” she said, tilting her head. “And those dark circles under your eyes… Are you sleeping at all?” “Yeah, just tired,” I mumbled, forcing a weak smile and looking away. How could I possibly explain that I was up half the night touching myself while listening to Lord Blackwood fuck other women? That I wished with every fiber of my being that it was my pussy he was pounding instead? “Not used to the work here yet?” she asked gently.