Novel & Cerita Everybody Loves Large Chests Book 2

BOOK 2 OF THE DESTINED LOVE SERIES: Truly Yours, Dear Childhood Sweetheart ~~~ Thank you all so much for your endless support in my story. I promise you that book 2 will blow your mind. Bask in steam and tension, unexpected plot twists and cliffhangers that will keep you on your toes. If you've come this far, then you're on the right path. Love, Cathystar ~~~ ~SANDY~ I groaned as I watched the pile of letters fall out of my locker, making a mess on the floor.

On every holiday, Blake would surprise me with thoughtful gifts, eager to show me off to his friends. When we were apart, he'd text "I miss you" countless times a day. He'd also seethe with jealousy if anyone so much as looked at me, his eyes burning with rage. Once, he told me, "Karen, do you know? My family is full of twisted monsters. You're the only one who's ever shown me what true love really is." Blake's insecurities ran deep. He constantly needed reassurance, asking me over and over if I still loved him.

My chest was thundering while I was examining his face, his features. The magazines and billboards didn't lie. He was a drop-dead gorgeous man with his hair neatly brushed yet some strands were falling on her forehead. Our eyes met and it crumbled knees yet I was trying to maintain my posture. His emerald eyes were deep and alluring which gave me a bad sense about him. His kind of guy was a total womaniser and he was gonna be my husband? Fuck, it was just for his surname, it shouldn't be a big deal actually.

He wants someone with a foul mouth, a quick fist and thunder thighs? I quickly cover my lips to keep from laughing out loud. Losing interest in the book, I flip to the last few pages. My eyes go wide when I see my picture. There’s a guy next to me, a massive tattoo covering his chest. He’s hugging me, and we both have humongous grins on our faces. He’s… familiar somehow. And I instantly know one thing for sure: I need to find that smile again. That happiness, and it sure as hell ain’t in this palace.

Every hair on her arm stood as she beat back the panic welling in her breast. On the other hand, she had read novels in which the lady had enjoyed the pirate’s passionate kisses. The heroine in the book actually fell in love with the ruthless man. Isabelle rolled her eyes. It was beyond her knowledge how any woman could feel that way. Yet, Hawk had been attentive while she was being jolted atop his horse. It had seemed he almost cared about her discomfort when offering to have her lean against him.

she managed to say between breaths. “I love the way your tits raise and lower when you’re out of breath,” he chuckled. Aggressively taking one of her hardened nipples into his mouth while kneading the other with his free hand, he rammed his fingers back into her womanhood while his thumb settled on her sensitive nub. “No more!” she protested. “Just a bit more,” he forcefully snarled as he pulled his fingers from her and replaced them with his manhood. ***

I didn't want to be a thief even if Gera was technically responsible for the thefts. My favorite of all the wonderful tomes was a book about love. The main character was this buff and dreamy human man with piles of muscles who oozed confidence. The woman he loved swooned at the thought of him, and it had very outlandish descriptions of human sex. It wasn't that way for nymphs, for one I'd never seen a male nymph with more than slight muscles and certainly none that made fire explode in my belly.

His lips curved slightly. "I'm Albert Craig." I folded my arms. "Lucy George." "Yes." The answer came a little too quickly. As if he already knew everything about me. Which, honestly, was becoming increasingly obvious. A long silence followed. Finally, Albert gestured toward the open door. "Would you like to continue this conversation in the hallway?" I glanced around. Then sighed. Unfortunately, he had a point. Reluctantly, I stepped inside. The suite was larger than my entire apartment. Possibly larger than my parents' house. Floor-to-ceiling windows overlooked the city skyline. Modern furniture filled the room. Everything looked expensive. Very expensive.

He lifted her onto the counter in one motion, stepping between her thighs, hands already tearing at the buttons of her jacket. She shoved his jacket off his shoulders, yanked his T-shirt over his head. His chest was broad, inked—black linework vines curling across his pecs, a small constellation of stars along his collarbone. She dragged her nails down his abs, hard enough to leave red trails. He hissed, retaliated by ripping the last buttons of her whites open. Her bra was black lace; he shoved it down, palmed her breasts, thumbs circling her nipples until they ached. “Fucking hate you,” she breathed against his mouth.

Drago falls into step behind me, no longer surprised about me rushing off places. I yank open my door, eyes searching the room for where they placed the chest. There it rests, leaning next to one of my bookshelves. I fall to my knees and examine the chest. It’s old and made of wood. There is nothing special about the outside of it, it looks like a simple old chest. My father gave this to me when I left but I was so wrapped up in everything I totally forgot about it. I grip the side and try to push the lid open and it doesn’t budge. Frowning I notice there’s no lock on the chest keeping it shut but it still won’t open. Sitting back on my heels I bit my lip contemplating on what to do.