Elody Novels & Stories

“Come on, spill. You’ve been here three months. Don’t tell me there’s never been anyone. You must’ve met someone before I arrived.” Elodie rolled her eyes, but the blush climbed to her ears. “No one’s pining. I was… focused. It was just the convent, then this job. Boys were background noise—still are. I intend to keep my hymen intact for my husband.” She picked at a loose thread on the blanket. “Besides, the men here are too rugged. I don’t go out much.” Suzy snorted. “Rugged can be sexy if you’re into that. Brute, hot, and dangerous.” She paused, letting the silence stretch. “Ever wonder what the east wing sounds like at two a.m.?”

I open the living room door without hitting, as she told me the last time. And there, I stop net. Lying on the sofa, back to me, Élodie wears simple panties and a light top. Her legs are crossed and she seems completely absorbed by the music that resonates in her helmet. I swallow. Shit. Damn, she is ... she is to die for. My gaze slides on the curve of his hips, the delicacy of her waist, the softness of her skin barely covered. My breath cuts a fraction of a second. I have always found Elodie attractive, but there ... There is a fucking torture. His ass was round, I will say that last night I had not noticed that. I suddenly felt my erection throb. I would lie if I said that I shouldn't be

he introduces a tiny woman who comes around from behind his large frame. The first thing I notice is her large baby bump, a sudden empty feeling fills inside me but I'm quick to shove it far back in my mind. I move forward to give her a friendly hug, she smiles brightly "welcome luna Celeste" she greets sweetly. Helen is about 5'3 with jet black straight hair, her eyes are the color of honey with thick eyebrows above them, her full lips have been stretched into a smile since the moment we've arrived.

She shook her head. I wished she had answered it. Her ringtone was the 1961 version of can't help falling in love which meant that Elvis Presley's voice lingered through the spaces between us. It was odd how things both beautiful and ugly took place. The poor neighborhood and its old establishments did not quite add up to the cerulean skies and the vintage melodies. Much the same to how I am no match to Catherine. It was a relief when the song stopped playing. Catherine turned off her phone after that.

And everything happens for a reason~ It's all a blessing in disguise~ I used to question who I was~ well now I see~ The answer is in your eyes~" He searches her eyes and they sang together again. This time, their voice is a bit slower. "Cause baby, everything you are~ "Is everything I need~ you're everything to me~ "Baby, every single part~ is who you're meant to be~ "Cause you were meant for me~ "And you're everything I need~"

Lydia came that afternoon with fresh linens and no introduction beyond her own name, offered flatly as she stripped the bed without preamble or ceremony: "Lydia." She was older, compact, built with the economy of movement that accumulated over decades of work done well and without announcement. Eastern European accent, thick and unhurried, the kind of accent that had stopped apologizing for itself a long time ago. She moved through the room the way people moved through spaces they had been moving through for years, without consulting it, without adjusting to it, simply occupying it with the comfortable authority of familiarity.

She murmurs babbling and stumbling over her words. I don’t stop but I put even more pressure as I lick at her sensitive clit that throbbed under my tongue. Flicking my tongue so rapidly that I could barely breathe, and when she's just about to come, I pull away and press two fingers inside her thrusting into her.. “Sweet Jesus!,"She screams and I plunged my fingers out of me immediately.. “Not Jesus! Me! Say my name Elowen, am the one making you come not him”I groan out as I plunge three fingers back into her and she jerks her body at impact as she screams out loud moaning and gasping uncontrollably.

"Heey, aren't you the new occupants on Elmond street?" A nice lady around her 30s holding a little boy in her hands grins at me so wide, I can see her muscles twitching in pain. Her dark skin is underlined by the milky-white silk tank top she's wearing, combined with denim shorts and sneakers. She's beautiful, at least. I can't help but stare at the little boy she's holding in her arms. He's no more than two years old and has the same charming smile as his mom. The curly black hair it has makes my hand itching to caress it.

She seemed to be seduced by some invisible force, and she just kept looking for the place where that seductive sound came from. Each inanimate wooden ladder was like a ladder that took her to the paradise of passion and desire. Through the half-open door, she saw him engrossed in the piano keys. Although Thi San didn't know about music and she simply liked it, she seemed to feel the mood he was sending to those white keyboards, which was a tired and sad mood. The quiet space of the early morning was lulled by many melodious melodies that healed many wounds and gradually erased the distance. Because she was so absorbed in listening to the wonderful music, she forgot to go to the market until

Arlo selects a rope toy from the display by picking it up in his mouth and sitting down with it with the finality of a decision made. Rhys pays for it. We walk home with our farmers market things and Arlo's rope toy and the flowers and the decision still sitting open and the London Saturday doing its generous beautiful thing around us. From somewhere above us in the building, faint through the Saturday morning air, the sound of a cello. I look up. Fourth floor. Felix Adler, who plays every morning because the instrument gets stiff otherwise, like people. "I like him." "The neighbour?" Rhys asks. "Yes."