Ghost Of My Past Girlfriends 소설 & 이야기

"I want a pussy right now to eat." I bit my lower lip when I felt my stomach twitch, "And a pussy for me to come." "How dirty your words are. By the way, can I ask?" "What is it?" "Do not you have a girlfriend?" "I don't have." "Oh, why is that? Hmm, maybe because you cannot find some that are your type? Or it was just some girls you like that cannot like you?" "My fiancee died last year ago and no one can just replace her here in my heart."

Nick complained, but the dark edge in his voice made me tremble. And slowly, their Boss closed his laptop, pushing it aside, and looked at me. And suddenly I was no longer twenty-three. The time was moving in reverse, taking me back seven years. I was seventeen once again, looking at the man for whom I fought with everyone, the man who went down on his knees to propose to me when we were still teenagers. The man who saw me growing up in front of his eyes. My childhood best friend. My first crush. My first love. My first-ever lover. My first heart-breaker.

KARMA I practically skipped through the clubhouse towards the truck where we’d left Zodiac and Bull, with Ghost just behind me, a murderous expression on his face. It was safe to say we were both looking forward to kicking these two around a bit. As far as I saw it, the two of them threatened my best friend and my club. As far as Ghost saw it… well. It was the woman who he’s loved and who has loved him (even if neither of them wanted to admit it) since they were eighteen.

Everything ran through me. Matteo trusted me with this territory. I wasn’t about to let Juan take a single inch. But the truth? Juan wasn’t the only thing keeping me up at night. Something else had been pulling at me. Someone. A ghost from my past. A woman I’d never stopped loving. A mistake I’d never forgiven myself for. And lately… she’d been everywhere. In my thoughts. In my dreams. In the way I hesitated before answering Matteo’s calls. In the way I kept my phone face‑down on my desk.

I finally said it, and I see how immediately change the color of her face. “I…I don’t hate you,” She said without looking at me, “it’s just that, I’m still afraid. Past is lingering to me as if it’s a ghost that keeps haunting me.” A ghost that keeps haunting her, she says… Sometimes, the difficult enemy is not the future but the past of the person who was truly in love but ended up hurt. “Then, why not let me get rid of the ghost of your past? I will make your present bearable so in the future, you will be happy genuinely.”

"When you are a ghost, you don't live in minutes or hours. You live in memories. And tonight, the memories are restless." "Show me," she whispered. "You always guide me through my dreams. Let me see yours. I want to understand why you always pull away when things get... real." I hesitated. My past was a graveyard. It was full of beautiful things that had turned to dust. I didn't want to drag her into the dark. But then I looked at her, and I saw the bridge between us. If I wanted her to trust me with her future, I had to trust her with my ghosts.

In the moonlight, a woman in a white lace dress was kneeling on the stone steps of the chapel, her face buried in her hands, her shoulders trembling. She had no feet. Below her dress, there was only a swirling black mist. "I see her." Lorenzo let out a low whistle. "Two years ago, Marco put her in the ground right there. Her ashes are buried under the rose bushes behind the chapel." I didn't stop, walking straight toward the chapel. Giovanni froze behind me but didn't dare to call out. As I reached the bottom of the steps, the female ghost's head snapped up. She lunged at me, her face a sickly pale green, her eye sockets empty black pits.

The taunting messages from my wife's lover started two months ago. Photos of them after sex. Close-ups of her obsession with his body. The brutal truth, laid bare right in front of me. I didn't confront her. I just quietly started preparing. I got myself a new identity and gave myself a deadline: seven days. In an abandoned warehouse on Chicago's West Side, a single bulb swayed overhead, casting a weak yellow light. I pushed a thick stack of cash across the table to the man in the baseball cap.

Engraved every line by hand. The night she finished, she pressed it into my palm. "Sweetheart. I don't have much to give you. But I made this for you. Wear it for me. So I know you're with me." Those were the last words she ever said to me. She was gone by morning. For twenty-three years, that locket had never come off my neck. "Nice piece," Vivienne said. Her eyes hadn't left it. "Where'd you get it? Don't tell me you mooched it off my boyfriend too."

I asked slowly "I ended a contract with someone but she isn't wise enough to understand that" he said trying to calm himself " what do you mean contract and who do you mean she" I said not fully understanding him. "She's Nebula and she is somewhat my last girlfriend" he says with uncertainty in his voice, oh he has had lot of girlfriends, that made me hurt, he said he is mine and I feel like he is mine, I shouldn't be worried about his past , but knowing he has loved other ladies makes me feel bad