How To Draw Stretch Marks

The Adoration and lust that intially marks the love between the two, drifts a sudden deviation in destiny. However the fate brings them together in the laters where the couple work to build a better relationship. The novel explores on how It's truly devastating that we yearn for something, only when its no where near us.

NINA “My wife will ride you for her org-sm and for your come to fill her, so she can do her duty as Mrs. Sokolov.” Jeremiah’s fingers flexed around my throat. “Go on, little wh-re. Climb over him. I know you want to.”   I crawled over Lachlan, curling my fingers around his thick c-ck, and wondered — how big was Jeremiah? How long? How thick? Lachlan hissed, “Kitten, stop playing or I’ll come all over your hand.”   Jeremiah growled, “We can’t have that. All his come belongs in your c-nt, wife. So get on with it.” His lips brushed my ear. “Don’t stretch this out. I have something else that needs stretching.” Shuddering, I got to my knees. As I aligned Lachlan’s c-ck with my entrance, another hand wrapped around mine — larger, slick with oil. Jeremiah.   A moan escaped as my husband guided his lover’s c-ck to my core. I sank down slowly, the stretch burning until I took every inch. “F-ck,” Lachlan groaned. “You’re perfect around me.” “You too,” I moaned, pressed against his chest, lips tangled in a kiss.   Then, without warning, Jeremiah pushed in two fingers — into my other h-le.   I gasped as he stretched my untouched muscles. He didn’t stop. Not until I was full. Everywhere.   Lachlan groaned. “I can feel you.”   “I know,” Jeremiah said, his fingers thrusting deep. “Move.” Lachlan obeyed, lifting me until just his tip stretched me, then pushed me back down. I whimpered. My hips jerked. Lachlan cursed.   “You like that, wife?” Jeremiah’s voice rasped in my ear. “Being used by both of us?”   _ This is a twisted, dark MMF mafia romance where love is savage, hate burns deep, and survival comes at a deadly cost. Read-TW!!!! MF-MM-MFM-Dark-Twisted-Betrayal-Amnesia-Revenge-NonCon-Mafia-Humiliation-Dominated-Controlling-Ruthless-Mystery-Thriller-READ-Trigger-Warnings

On Christmas Day, eight months pregnant, I struggled through the kitchen,cooking for my husband and his secretary. When I finally sat down, hoping to taste a piece of turkey I didn’t even get during Thanksgiving, my husband shoved me aside like I was nothing. He slid the turkey in front of his secretary instead. “Alison,you’re already so fat. Stop eating. Let Daisy have it—she deserves to enjoy your cooking.” Daisy，chewing on the turkey I had painstakingly prepared, had the audacity to mock me under the guise of playing truth or dare with my child. “So, what do you think your mom looks like?” “Mommy looks like a fat pig on a farm!” “Her stretch marks? They’re like disgusting worms crawling all over her. Even Santa would run for his life!” Their laughter erupted like daggers piercing me from all sides. Humiliation and rage burned through me as my dignity was stripped bare. I demanded an apology from that vile woman, but my husband—my husband!—turned his cold, cruel face toward me and said, “Get out of here.” Pregnant, exhausted, and humiliated, I stood there in shock. Then I snapped. I grabbed the Christmas cake and turkey and threw them in the trash. I walked out without looking back. This wretched family doesn’t deserve a second of my effort or a single ounce of my love!

Maddison Hart wished upon a star for a life-altering experience. She was a bored college student looking for something to help her heartbreak and one little wish would not hurt anyone, right? She should have been more specific. After a weird encounter with a self-proclaimed Alien Prince named Cy, Maddie is forced into a contract which marks her as his ``Earthling Companion¨. But with unknown enemies and an intergalactic war brewing, how long can the runaway alien prince hide?

She's chaos in lipstick. He's order in an Armani suit. They were never meant to mix - and now the office might burn. When Katerine Brown storms into Mason & Co as the new creative hire, her loud laugh and unapologetic flair clash with everything Sebastian Mason stands for. He's the CEO with a no-nonsense policy. She's the woman who doesn't know how to stay quiet. But as late-night meetings stretch longer, stolen glances turn bolder, and tension crackles between coffee breaks and deadlines, Sebastian starts breaking all his own rules - especially the one that says he can't fall for a woman like her. A woman who challenges him. A woman who makes him feel. A woman who refuses to lower her voice.

My grandmother only knows how to draw one thing—infants. They're ugly, but people line up to buy the paintings. I watch as she takes those women into unlit rooms. Then, their bloodcurdling screams will ring out. Oddly enough, they always thank my grandmother when they're leaving. One day, I finally find out what exactly my grandmother paints. I discover the truth when I see an infant crawl out of one of the women's bellies—it looks just like the one my grandmother has painted.

Ever since my mom gave birth to her second child, everything in the household is tied to drawing lots. Everyone has to draw lots in order to decide whose favorite food will be served for each meal. We have to draw lots to see who among us gets a hug from our parents. Every time, I end up drawing the short end of the stick, so everyone automatically assumes that my younger sister, Anabelle Madden, gets the better lot. She easily reaps my parents' love without having to do anything at all. Whenever I feel like crying because of the injustice, Mom will scold me instantly. "I bought the lottery box because I was worried that you might feel upset about this. I'm doing this just to be fair to both of you. "If you want something, you have to be the one deciding who gets what. Your father and I won't interfere with your decision at all. Since you can't draw the better lot, that just means you have bad luck." Hence, I keep practicing my lot-drawing skills every day, hoping that I can eventually draw the better lot in order to obtain my parents' love. But for ten years, I never get to draw the better lot. Not even once. On my birthday, Anabelle wants to go to the amusement park, so Mom tells us to draw lots once again. I secretly glue two short lots together before giving it to Mom in an attempt to get her to stay with me. Instead, she slaps me and berates me for being a disobedient child who cheats in lot-drawing. Then, she leaves the house with Anabelle. When I fall to the floor, I feel the short sticks piercing through my neck.

Moving to a city and opening a tea shop was a good idea or Soma thought. But that idea soon took a turn for the worst when a Detective by the name of Marks targets her and puts her in the middle of a war between him and Oliver Stone, the Alpha of the Blood Moon pack. Oliver buys tea, and he is hit with Soma’s intoxicating scent exposing her as his mate. Detective Marks finds this out shortly after. Not wanting to scare her, Oliver wants to take it slow and introduce himself, but when Detective Marks burns her store down and almost kills her, Oliver is forced to expose his wolf side to save her. Will she accept him or reject him and run?

I'm a socially awkward omega. They are alphas who live in the spotlight. We are complete opposites, but for some reason they want me. I'm not going to deny it, there's something about them that pulls me closer, but things are complicated. I didn't want to burden them with all my baggage when they have the chance of finding an omega who suited their lifestyle. No matter how hard I try to push them away, they always find a way to draw me closer. And like they say, they aren't planning on stopping until they claim me as their omega. *** AN NON-SHIFTER REVERSE HAREM AGE GAP OMEGAVERSE NOVEL ***

She was soft—kind, trusting. Until betrayal carved her open and buried the girl she used to be. What rose from that grave wasn’t weak. It wasn’t gentle. But when a ruthless Lycan Alpha steps into her path, Fate begins to stir. As secrets unravel, bloodlines collide, and marks awaken, one thing becomes terrifyingly clear: Some marks are fate. Hers might be war.