Fallen Book Cover Novels & Stories

this time. Lifting the lid of the nearest one, she found stacks of neatly sealed bags. No logos. No smell. Pure white powder. Coke. Still Drew's brand, just packaged prettier now. The second crate held cash. Bundles wrapped in rubber bands. Easily over $100,000, maybe more. She didn’t take anything. Not yet. But she pulled out her old prison phone—a burner she’d traded for cigarettes inside—and snapped pictures. Boxes, bags, bills and evidence.

Finished speaking, I grab the collar of her shirt and pull, ripping it entirely so that I have the perfect view of my little mate's heaving chest that is hidden beneath a lacy black bra. “Mmmmm,” I growl, hooking a finger in the bra and slowly pulling it down, revealing her breasts little by little until they bounce free from the fabric entirely. “Fake is nice,” I murmur, grasping one in my hand. “But all natural is so much fucking better. I love the way they bounce when I fuck my women into oblivion.”

The burning desire inside me was absolutely eating me alive. So many beautiful women had walked past me, yet not one was mine. What made other men so special that they could land women like that? Life just sucked for me. Just then, a young couple stumbled out of the bar, arguing loudly. I glanced at the woman, and that fire inside me was instantly reignited. Even on a cold day like this, she wore black thigh-high stockings over her long, slim legs, paired with a super short skirt that barely covered her butt. The sight made my desire surge. Her two large globes, in particular, bounced with every step she took.

The water was turned on in the bathroom. Whitney Chapman was taking her bath. I went to the entryway and picked up the trench coat she'd just changed out of. There was an unnoticeable stain on its hem that looked like plaster. A crumpled supermarket receipt lay in the coat's pocket. I silently smoothed it out. It was issued today at 3:00 pm. The items listed on it were pasta, oil, and…a packet of cigarettes. She lied to me.

… When I came to, Lina was sitting at my side, her eyes swollen and red. I knew instantly what had happened. I slowly reached for my now-flat stomach. There was a pang of sorrow, yes, but also a strange sense of relief. With a father like Dario, perhaps not being born was a mercy. I asked Lina to hand me my phone. When I turned it on, I saw that Fran had flooded her social media with updates. One photo showed her reclining in a bathtub, back exposed, surrounded by rose petals and red wine, the city skyline glittering in the distance.

I pick up my book and look at the cover, holding it open so I don’t lose my page. The man on the cover is wearing a long blue military jacket with red trim and yellow trousers. The woman has on an elaborate gown and is leaning her head against his bare chest, her own gown falling down around her lower arms, her breasts spilling out the top like a melon cart that’s been tipped on its side.

The girl then brought her face closer, try reading the page of the book. Venus did not really understand, but the scene that was plastered was explaining the situation where Amerta's time finally approached its end. Because she did not want to dirty her hands with dust, Venus used the Air again to close the book. The cover explained that it was only a fiction novel that was inspired by the real circumstances of the downfall of Amerta. The downfall of Amerta. How exaggerated, Venus mind denounced. The girl took turns blowing dust on the two books that had been originally covered with Air Talent. One is titled ENCHANTED and the other is titled WOLVIRE, both appear to be writings from someone n

It took him an hour to figure out how it works hahaha. He soon turned the book over to check it's title. On the cover, among the pretty colorful gems and butterfly designs is a title of bold golden letters that brought a sudden shiver to his body. 🌹Ruby and Aurelius🌹

After a few long minutes of walking, we finally arrived at Vincenzo’s room and I wasn’t surprised it lived up to my expectations. Nothing flashy or too serious. It was so neat that one couldn’t deny the fact that he is a clean freak. Most of the accessories in the room were all black and dim. The room lacked life, soul and air. It was suffocating as hell! “Please, help me out of these.” I grabbed the attention of the middle-aged woman, motioning at my ball gown. “Okay, Ma’am.” She hurried to my side, loosening the corset at the back and in no time, I was out of the heavy ball gown.

But when she pulled it free, her breath stopped. The book was unlike anything she had ever seen. Its cover was bound in leather so dark it seemed almost black, though in the right light it shimmered faintly with hues of deep crimson. Strange symbols—curved, jagged, and foreign—were etched into its surface, pressed deep into the hide like scars. No title marked its spine. A lock, thin and ancient-looking, sealed its pages.