Feel Special Novels & Stories

“What kind of something’? Like, ‘I’m catching feelings’ something? Or ‘we have an unspoken connection’ something?” I groaned, burying my face in my hands. “I don’t know! He’s fun, he makes me laugh, and yeah, the sex is mind-blowing, but it’s not just that. When I’m with him, I forget all the stress, all the confusion. It’s like… I can just be myself.”

“People shouldn’t think I’m your woman.” A strange, unfamiliar sensation settled in my chest, heavy and unwelcome. It was a possessive instinct, a primal urge to claim what I desired, and I didn’t like the way those words resonated within me. Not my woman? The very idea grated against my carefully cultivated sense of control.

, I said pausing for a while to see his reaction. " Ok, shoot. I love secrets", he replied. "I think I like Phil. I'm beginning to feel those sensations again", I explained as Chris looked at me. " You think or you like him? How do you feel?", Chris asked? "I like him. I like his mature sense, walking, the way he smiles, and his face.No matter how angry, stressed up, or lively he is, he looks cute to me. But I feel my body telling me to get over it before it is too late. I sometimes have a bad feeling whenever I think of Phil. I feel as if something bad might happen", I explained as he nudged me in the shoulder drawing me closer.

My throat feels parched, as if I had been in the desert for days. "Are you okay?" Joshua asks, his eyes filled with concern. "What happened?" I take a deep breath, trying to gather my thoughts. "I don't know," I reply, my voice weak. “But I’ll be fine.” As I speak, I feel a tingling sensation in my chest, a strange warmth that seems to be spreading through my body. It's an unfamiliar sensation, one that fills me with a sense of unease. I hide the fact that I feel a weird sensation in my body. I can’t explain it. It's both painful yet uplifting. I feel very lightweight and free.

Scarlett’s POV The nap was the best thing that had happened to my body in weeks. Not the deep, scheduled sleep of someone who had gone to bed at a reasonable hour with a clear conscience and nothing pressing on the other side of wakefulness. The other kind, the kind that arrived unexpectedly in the middle of the afternoon in a warm room with good linen and the solid, steady warmth of another person beside you, was the sleep that came after something that had used up everything you had and left you pleasantly empty, light and loose and thoroughly unconcerned with the world beyond the immediate square footage of the bed.