Four Minutes Book Novels & Stories

Apollo said and because of what he said I suddenly felt light in my mood. It only means, if I will give an ordinary blueprint, I will not be chosen. I smiled inwardly. This is easier than I thought. I cannot verbally say that I don't want to do it, but I can just choose not to be chosen. "You said it would be four of us...who's the fourth?" Khleo asked. I don't care who's the fourth person. What I care about right now is to make sure, my design will not be chosen. "You'll meet the fourth person on the third day. For now, just make sure to do your best in this project." Apollo responded to us.

I just need to get through the next few weeks. It was April, only a few weeks left of school. When I was done with my testing, I would have a plan in place. They had ruined my life, but there was an expiration date. I wouldn't let them rule my life forever. I had three weeks, four at the most. I could be their s8ex toy for that long, couldn't I? I had a terrible feeling that this would be my undoing. They would take a piece of my soul with them. I felt a darkness surround me and if I wasn't careful, it would engulf me.

My eyes fluttered open as I slowly regained consciousness, groaning quietly. As my body squirmed around, I rubbed my eyes, clearing my vision as much as possible. The brightness of the room made me squint, but soon enough I was able to look around. My pupils moved in circles as I tried to examine my surroundings. There I was, lying on a bed, looking around at the interior of an unfamiliar room. There was a door to the bathroom on one side, slightly open. The walls and curtains were jet black, and the bed sheets were patterned with shades of gray and charcoal. The furniture followed along with the color scheme, and the doors did nothing less. The bed frame was a golden color, as were the desi

I hate betrayals and everything connected to that including lies. But is this content for me to read or it was made for someone else? Damn this question! This is making my head hurt and I might break everything here the moment I lost my patience. This is trying my freaking patience instead of helping the fuck out of me. I turned my gaze towards the books that I'm still holding and tried reading them slowly, writing them down in my mind for me not to forget about any of them and it just gave me a clue at the end of the page. A clue which I don't know if it can really help me because of how weird it is. I started putting the words up and made a whole sentence after the end of it. I read it alo

It wasn’t until I felt the thick carpeting of the first step beneath my bare foot that I realized how profoundly affected I was by the news that Lance intended to take me back to his time. My legs trembled like they were made of rubber and my knees threatened to buckle beneath my weight. Worried that they wouldn’t hold me, I held tight to the railing and pulled myself up. First one step and then another. Looking up at the steep and seemingly never-ending climb awaiting me, it felt like a daunting task.

“People with that look always do.” “That ‘look’ is trauma,” another replied, quieter. “Try not to provoke it.” “Is she conscious?” a third asked. Firm. Commanding. Footsteps approached. When I opened my eyes, four men stood before me. Different builds. Same dress. The first was tall and broad, shoulders loose, posture relaxed like nothing in the world truly worried him. Dark hair fell into amused eyes. A grin played at his mouth, careless but sharp. Jeremy. The second stood beside him, leaner, softer around the edges. His eyes were warm, brown, observant. He looked at me like I was a person, not a problem.

It arrived without being sent for, and she let it be there, alone in her office at six forty-five on an ordinary Tuesday. She typed: *How badly?* *Overcooked by several minutes. I was reading.* *What were you reading?* *The book Felix gave me. Third attempt at chapter four.* She thought about this. *Is chapter four the problem, or is Felix the problem?* *Felix recommended it sincerely. Chapter four is dense. I am persisting.* *Persist through chapter four,* she typed. *It gets better.* A pause. *You've read it?* *Two years ago. Different edition, probably. Same chapter four.*

"But a specific wave — the one that arrives at a specific moment on a specific morning — that you can write. And the specific wave contains the whole ocean." "The specific morning," Elian said. "The specific conversation. The specific moment in the forty years that contains the forty years." "Yes," Dante said. Elian set down his fork. He looked at Dante with the quality of someone who had just received something important in a form so simple it had almost been missed. "That's the method," he said. "The fourth novel isn't about the forty years. It's about the specific mornings. The specific conversations. The specific moments that contain the whole thing."

The scent of his musk and precum made my head spin. “Four years,” he whispered hotly against my ear, his other hand sliding down to roughly cup my soaked cunt. Two thick fingers shoved inside me without warning, curling brutally against my G-spot. “Four years you’ve been sneaking out to get railed like a cheap whore while I sat at the dinner table thinking you were my innocent little stepdaughter. Did you finger this greedy cunt every night thinking about my cock?”

She turned the offer back over and they sat with it between them, two people in the same room at last, in the same decision, the coffee going cold, the morning going on, and outside the city unhurried and entirely unaware that something in this kitchen had just finally, four months late, begun. End of chapter 46