Hair Draw

"When does a person die, when it stops breathing, when its heart stops beating?" "No a person dies the moment it looses hope, that's when u become an empty shell, a living doll when you have no more expectation from the world, where there are no feelings just emptiness" "Many people would think that immortality is a blessing little do they know that this is the cruellest curse someone can give you" ******** *creepy smile* " Oh Celea you really think that you will ever be able to live me" he was caressing her face, he looked like he was crazy... "what are you talking about?" " I'm saying that you will never be able to escape me, I won't let you go even if you love someone else, you are mine" " your hair belongs to me" touches her hair " your lips belong to me" touches her lips " the eyes that look at me with indifference belong to me" touches her eyes " your heart belongs to me..." his finger went down her neck to her heart, action wich made Celea look at where his finger's at. Claus than goes to her ear and whispers " your whole existence belongs to me Celea"

My wife's soul mate had Rh negative blood just like me. In order to make my wife happy, he donated his bone marrow to me then committed suicide. I was put on the blame for his death. Everyone blamed me for killing him. My wife who received his suicide note went crazy. She started to draw blood from my body. She was extremely cruel. "You owe that to me. He would not have died if not because of you. I am only returning to him something that did not belong to you." When the soul mate reappeared, my wife started looking for me like crazy. She did not know that I had died for losing too much blood.

He grinned, getting up from where he was, and walked away from her. She could finally breathe. Her hands adjusted her black hair that had already stuck to her face as a result of the blood and sweat present on it, tucking it behind her ears. Her training clothes were messed up with dust, sweat, and a little bit of blood. She looked up at him again as he walked away from her, but suddenly stopped and turned to look at her. "The most important rule of them all. Rule number 6" he spoke. "NEVER FALL IN LOVE"

He dropped his hands to the side, stepping away, and he voiced. “I’m not sure about having you fucking countless men, Marianne, unless you have chosen to become a whore who is more than willing to please another man’s dick instead of just pleasing one.” He smiled, pushing his hair from his face. I made the conscious decision not to let his words bother me, as it wasn't worth the stress. I said, which got him annoyed further. “I rather please a thousand dicks than yours. So do what you want to me, but I will never marry you.” He suddenly brought out a gun, playfully staring at it and he hint “Not even in a death and life situation.” He aimed the gun directly at me and I took a bold step by moving to him and I pressed my head against the gun. “Then kill me. It has always been my dream to escape from this nightmare.” I was playing with fire, but I won’t back off until we both get burnt. “Pull the trigger.” I breathe. He breath. Both our eyes locked. ****** Kidnapped and sold to a psychopath, a man who finds solace in seeing her in pain while she grips on her remaining hopes of escaping. Marianne finds herself trapped in this endless nightmare with a man who claims to love her by bringing her pain. ***** Trigger warning; This story is not for light-hearted people. Involves very disturbing sex content.

She was breaking out. She was struggling to breathe, she tried to pull away from him but no, he was gaining in on her. He had her sprawled on the couch unfastening the rope of her robe and clutching her bare skin. Her mouth fell open and her face threw to the back with her hair spread all over the couch as his lips came to her neck, and he was grunting into her ears with raw need. “I need you Bambino Mio (my baby)” he whispered as his tongue touched her naked breast. Her hands were useless against him. Her toes curled up as a ticklish feeling transferred from her body and straight to her brain. Her mouth let out a sweet moan. She has never felt this good before. “I will make you feel beautiful.” He said as he kissed her face sticking his hand into her panties. “I will make your pain go away for a while, bambino.” She screamed when she felt his hand inside of her, their eyes locked into each other before their lips met again. “Do you feel better now?” He grunted out and she tried to nod her head. “No Bambino, you have to be grateful by replying me with words.” He said driving deeper into her. Amora’s life turned topsy turvy down when the powerful and brutal cold billionaire of Venice walks into it. A man filled with a raw taste of need and affection and he offered her what she wanted most in her life. AFFECTION but it came with a price which will cost her a lot more than she would gain. Will she survive being in the billionaire’s world or will she be consumed? This book is RATED 18+

I am Seranda Williams the uwanted, born from a lineage of slaves, embedded with the mark of Zeranda cursed god of the souls of the dead. A plague waiting to be eradicated. a plague waiting to be destroyed, a celebration at my death, festivity at the sight of my blood. I stare from the open bars of my home, a crumbling place known to others as a dungeon, but I have called this place home for the last 18 years, today is that day, the long-awaited day of my death. I feel nothing, I have been groomed as a sacrificial lamb. am neither the first nor will I be the last, it will soon be time. Nothing is there to be felt, I was neither provided information on why I must die, nothing could break me. No, they can't…can they? Neglected separated front all. Groomed as a sacrificial lamb, what was there to hope for? I am not the first nor will I be the last, it will soon be time. I have lived off scraps of food for the longest time, not like I saw meaning to why I was fed. I was going to be killed either way. I got myself ready, but there wasn't much to be done, I washed my hair with the little water left from the previous day, I have been isolated from humans since my birth. I did not get the chance to be a child like every other kid out there. I was barely given enough to last me for 18 years. The door abruptly opens and hefty men rush in with chains and shackles. “Tie the slave”

"Dario, someone might see us," She tried to pull away, with a hint of nervousness in her voice as she whispered. But Dario wasn't deterred. He reached out and gently tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, with his fingers lingering on her cheek, and his thumb tracing the outline of her lips. Ivy's heart began to race as she tried to back away. "You're looking sexy this morning," he said, his voice low and husky. "And that dress...you're driving me wild." Ivy's heartbeat quickened at his words, her body responding to his touch. She couldn't help but feel a surge of excitement. She could feel the breath on her skin as he leaned in closer, with his lips inches from hers, she knew she was lost. "I want you, Ivy," he whispered. Ivy closed her eyes, unable to resist the pull of his gaze. He pressed his soft lips to hers, and she felt a wave of desire wash over her. As their kiss deepened, she knew that there was no turning back. One night in a club changed everything for a billionaire CEO and his secretary. A passionate and romantic night together led to an unexpected twist when they both discovered she's his new secretary and he's her boss. Can they navigate the lines of power and passion, or will their forbidden love be doomed from the start?

Finnegan Churchill grabs me by the hair and drags me to a staircase with 99 steps. He orders me to crawl my way up as an apology to his true love, Colette Brooke. At the same time, I'm supposed to pray for her. He has no idea I'm the one who cared for him during the three years he was blind.

ARYAN "Uh, now that I can't do." I smirked, lifting the picture of my future wife. Wife. I cringed at that word. I would'nt dare deny that she was attractive. But I would need more than those damn enticing dark blue eyes, dark black sex hair and a heart dropping smile. MEERA "Arranged marriages are so sick. How can you get married to a guy you have never me before? For all I know he could look like a military horse." I snickered at my thoughts.

Nine years into my "non-cohabiting partnership" with Simon, his father passed away. The first condition in his will was simple: Simon and Ella had to conceive a child. On the day the child turned one month old, Simon would inherit his father's fortune. Simon told me this himself—the night I walked in on them tangled in our bed. Afterward, as he took a slow drag from his cigarette, he murmured, "Lily, just wait a little longer. Once I get the inheritance, I'll marry you." But he went back on his word. From then on, every time Simon planned to meet Ella at our house, he would hang a string of bells on the door. Since his father's passing, those bells had chimed ninety-nine times. After the ninety-ninth, the news arrived—Ella was pregnant, and their engagement party was set. My daughter saw the invitation, hesitated, then softly asked, "Mom, is Daddy's name on this?" I forced a smile and gently smoothed her messy hair into a neat ponytail. "Daddy is marrying the one he loves," I said. "And I'm taking you home." Simon never understood—I never cared about that marriage certificate.