Gentle Villain Mga Nobela at Kwento

“Yet she still flinches.” Zara turned slowly as Victor Vale stepped into view. Immaculate. Poised. Deadly. His obsidian suit clung like shadow. A silver tie pin in the shape of a fang gleamed at his throat. His smile was razor-thin. Victor Vale. Brother. Challenger. Viper in a tailored coat. “Little brother,” he said, sounding pleased, “you’ve made quite the show of things lately. Fires. Announcements. Marking ceremonies in the middle of old courts. Bold.”

“Like sinfully attractive. You wouldn't want to believe it unless you saw them.” Gianna lets out a squeal so loud I have to pull the phone away from my ear. “This is some stepbrother fantasy gone wild situation!” She says. Valentina grins like a devil. “Tell me everything. Names. Personalities. Every detail. Now.” I groan. “Okay, there's Vincenzo…he's cold, silent, gives off major serial killer vibes, but in a hot broody way. Then Riccardo…cool, chill, charming and caring. And Nico…”

A villain with a glass of apple juice in his hands—instead of a throat-grating shot of scotch, or a bowl of fresh human blood. A villain, especially one with a hefty goal should have black as his ensemble. Not multicolored boxer shorts and flip flops. He was supposed to be in his chambers, peering at the mind maps he'd drafted. Not basking in the mild Tuscan sun. A villain that likened himself to the devil should have his lips stretched in a grim line as he went through his loan over and over and over again. He definitely shouldn't be grinding lips with a scantily clad lady.

“Make her beg properly this time.” Lorenzo grinned, feral and teasing. “You heard the king, little one. Beg for it.” The girl whimpered, hips twitching. “Please… Sirs… harder…” Valentino stood silent at her side, white hair catching crimson light like fresh snow in blood. His silver eyes were locked on her face—predatory, reverent—as he reached down, fingers precise, sliding a thick, ridged dildo along her slick folds. No rush. He pressed the tip in slow, inch by inch, watching her lips part on a choked gasp. “Nngh… oh gods…”

“He took his time to remove the bullet lodged in my shoulder and he was gentle throughout. Even though the pain would say otherwise. The pain that seared through my arm was severe.” “Tell me about it.” I mumbled. She gave me a pity look. “He won my heart with the tiny gestures including his response when I asked for you. I think he is just a complete good man and I have a crush on him.” She finished. I nodded and grinned at the blush adorning her cheek, my cheeks widened with the grin. “Vincent is a gentleman, he is Elijah's right hand man. He is trustworthy, you made a good bargain.” I told her pulling my wounded ankle gentle so I could sit properly.

The whole room fell dead silent. Orlando was the first to react. He swung his hand up. Smack! He slapped me back. My cheek burned, and the taste of rust filled my mouth. I turned my head back to look at him. His face had the cruelty of a circling vulture. "Ophelia. You're not fit to insult my Donna." [oh my god! the male lead went way too far! that was the villainess's late mother's keepsake!] [the lead's an actual animal! he knew exactly how much that bracelet meant!]

She dug the novel out from beneath a stack of correspondence she'd been using to bury it, dust gathering faintly along its spine, and sat with it open in her lap for the first time in nearly two weeks. *The Villainess's Ruin.* She'd read it once, in her old life, curled up with tea gone cold beside her, treating it as nothing more than pleasant escapism before bed. She read it now with an entirely different kind of attention, searching each page for anything she might have skimmed past the first time, anything that might connect, however loosely, to a name like Renshaw.

I tuck a hand into my pocket and push my pants down-a desperate attempt to hide my now full erection. "You're a curious one, Bellissima." The nickname rolls off my tongue before I can catch myself. Valeria furrows a brow, dissatisfied with my response. "Of course not. Are you always this trusting of strangers?" I ask, genuinely interested in her answer. She doesn't strike me as naive, and I'd be damned if I let those eyes convince me otherwise. I come to the club often enough to know Valeria isn't a sex worker-probably not a gold digger either. She's what I like to refer to as the dangerous ones: confident, mysterious, and show stealers.

he complimented. Gerard was about 28 years old and was handling his father’s business since his father died. But after hard work he extended his business in Washington too. On Angelina’s advice he also invested in Wasim Sheikh’s business. He was a fine looking man with handsome face and ocean blue eyes. It was his charm that every women wanted to be in bed with him for once, because he was well known for making them satisfy. But nobody knew his dark side, ugly truths and cruel world. A handsome charming face doing charity and leading a powerful business in state, that's what he was known to media or people. He was capable of achieving everything in the world with money. He had power, people,

I said firmly. Instead of getting offended, what did I see? Amusement? He only laughed it off nonchalantly. He didn't push any further, and instead of escorting me, he walked slowly to match my stride. This was new. I didn't know a psychopath villain could be considerate. "Lady Bella," he called. "The part about you being the first person that I don't feel repulsed to touch, the only one who knew about it was myself, and now, you. So I'm sure that you won't tell anyone right?"