Gracie Adams Novels & Stories

Adams said. "There is no way I am going to let that happen. Besides we are the same. If you die, I die too. Who is going to take care of Maya? There is no way we are going to die." Ashton said. "I don't know if you can protect us anymore Ashton, I can't feel the life in me anymore," Adams said and just like that, he became silent. No matter what Ashton called out in his mind, Adams did not respond. "A.D.A.M.S." Ashton gave out a painful cry.

“Don’t worry. When afternoon comes, I won’t be far from there. Bottom line is, I’ll make it work.” Grace was gorgeous, bearing a striking resemblance to Maudy Ayunda. Her figure was neither slender nor overweight—fair to say, quite voluptuous. As an executive secretary used to speaking in front of many people, Grace possessed a firm, pleasant voice, akin to a bank teller or a radio broadcaster.

Gracia groaned and wrapped her arms around Adam's neck, pulling him close. "Fuck me, fuck me, fuck me, I'm going to cum, fuck me," she said between moans and grunts. Adam continued his pace, eventually pushing Gracia toward orgasm. She rotated and humped back as her climax hit like lightning. Adam could feel her pussy squeeze and pulse on his cock. Gracia's eyes were closed as she continued to feel the electricity from her high.

The gentle murmur of the gathered guests faded into a distant hum as he focused on the promise of the approaching future. Then, the doors slowly creaked open, and there she was – Grace, breathtakingly beautiful, illuminated by the soft glow of sunlight filtering through the stained glass windows. Time seemed to stand still as she entered, her arm linked with Adrian. Grace was a vision of elegance. She wore a gown that seemed to cascade like liquid moonlight, its lace and silk trailing behind her like a celestial train. The bodice was adorned with delicate embroidery, shimmering with every step she took. The neckline, modest yet alluring, framed her face like a work of art. The dress seemed t

Adam hadn’t changed a thing since Carolyn had died—not replaced the sun-bleached curtains, or removed the green gingham duvet cover, or stopped using the plates they’d gotten at their wedding. He hauled himself off the couch, grunting. His sister had her hands on her hips, her foot tapping against the welcome mat. “Took you long enough,” she said irritably as she entered. He just grunted. Grace plopped down onto the couch. Today, her hair was in two French braids, and she wore large, hoop earrings and a flowy skirt. “Want a beer?” he asked. “No, I’m good.” He shrugged. He got himself another beer, although Grace made a point to give him major side-eye as he opened the can.

"Hello, Lily" the woman greeted with a broad smile. Lily felt puzzled. This woman know her name? She stared at her. The woman looked elegant and graceful and could not pass for a maid. Is she Kayden Diego's mother or a close relative? "Hi" Lily replied and smiled as well. Smile is truly contagious and one receives it when you give it. The woman introduced herself as Ms Gracey and said she'll be staying in the mansion with her for the time being.

“Without knowing why. Children are that way sometimes.” I had no response for that that was adequate, so I nodded. We walked into the park. Grace was on a climbing structure thirty meters ahead. Eight years old in yellow rain boots and a blue coat, the same coat from the photograph in Adrian’s drawer, and she was negotiating the top of the climbing structure with the focused confidence of a child who had decided it was achievable and was not entertaining alternative assessments. Her hair was dark and she wore it in two braids that had held through what appeared to be a vigorous morning and she had, around the shoulders and in the specific quality of her attention on the structure, something

In just 10 minutes, I had slipped into a sleek long dress with a daring thigh-high slit. From the depths of my suitcase, I retrieved a black velvet box and flipped it open. The black pearl necklace inside shimmered with an otherworldly luster in the soft light. Slipping it on, the cool pearls lay against my collarbone, a silent statement of elegance. The reflection staring back at me did not seem ready for a charity gala. She looked poised for battle. The gala was set to begin at eight. I made my entrance at 10. Alice, clad in a shimmering silver gown, was mid-laughter with the elite when her eyes caught mine. Her laughter died, her complexion draining of color.

"I know, but Damon…" My mother had suddenly appeared at the door, attracted by the brewing noise; her eyes had grown wide as she spotted Damon and Cassandra half-naked. "What is the meaning of this, Damon? Annie, why are you sobbing?" Cassandra seized the opportunity. She pointed at the pizza I mistakenly spilled on the floor. "Look, Mrs. Scarlett! Your ‘precious’ daughter tried to sneak in and attack Damon! She's trying to get obsessed with him! She doesn't want to accept that the Alpha already chose me. Your daughter keeps doing crazy things even when I'm the true Luna. I have been waiting for this poor thing of yours to leave him for me!"

said I picking up the phone. "hello miss smith. this is one of your fans." said the gentleman on the phone who I estimated to be about the age of seventy and more because of how wheezy his voice sounded. "oh hello there sir. what's your name?" "My name is Anthony Miller. actually, my granddaughter is your fan but she has had your number for ages and had not the guts to call you." explained the man. "yes? thank you Mr. Miller. maybe I can talk to your granddaughter? "