Incarcerated Seductive Letters Novels & Stories

she replied. "So it's all gone?! No back up , no duplicate copies nothing?!" He asked. "Actually there's something, I didn't think about it until now , I hope it's still there " she said. "What is it?!" He asked "Fred always print out his articles and files them in a secret compartment in his study " she answered. "Great , great !That's good , can we go there now?!" "No, I need time to prepare, going back to his house will be a little hard for me " she whispered.

The words seemed so out of place in my hands, but I could hear Janice’s voice echoing in my mind. “This place could be your fresh start, Eli. You can make your own rules here. They’ll pay well, and treat you right, just keep your head straight, alright?” Janice, my cellmate. The one person who had given me hope when it seemed like there was none. She had been the one to introduce me to the world of high-end escorting, a world she had known for years. She’d made it clear that it wasn’t about what people thought, but what you could make of it. A way to escape the labels, the accusations, and the people who thought they knew your story.

Pathetic. I walked to the pile of letters I had on the table, and picked them one by one, sorting them by relevance. Now and then an envelope bathed in perfume surfaced, and I put them in a separate pile. It was one of the things that came in with being rich and famous, women thought they could win you over with perfumed letters. I picked a black envelope lined with gold. It was perfume as well, but it did not smell like it was meant to seduce. It was choking. Intrigued, I opened the envelope. The letter inside wasn't long. It was a simple message;

I wont let anything o r anyone else harm her. Her innocence has help m e captive o f her. She i s A n Innocent Seduction . That has become m y Addiction. With all these thoughts, I kissed her head and finally fell i n deep slumber with the love o f m y life , sleeping safely i n m y arms. ****** Hlw there!! Hope you all are enjoying the story so far. Do share your views and plz do vote. It will surely make my day!! And do follow me on I*******m @author_priyaraj to know more about updates and stories.

Anna asked. "Because Marta Chen from accounting who I won't deny I had a crush on, had texted me that her husband was coming home early from his trip and she needed someone to 'dispose of the evidence.'" He made air quotes. "I thought she meant the files she'd borrowed from my office. Turns out..." He leaned forward, lowering his voice conspiratorially. "She meant the love letters she'd written to the intern. Which were apparently hidden inside the files." Anna's fork clattered against her plate. "No."

Real, warm, sticky blood. She was crying, shaking, and mumbling something about how it was an accident. I took her hands in mine, washed the blood off, smeared it onto my own shirt, and told her to run and never look back. She actually listened, because she never looked back for eight fucking years. Shannon was my undoing. I ended up going to jail for a woman who never replied to any of my letters. 72... Seventy two letters, I wrote her in total... I told her about my cell. About the fights. The way my cell stank of piss and rust. The way my cellmate screamed in his sleep. The way the guards looked at me when I carved her initials into my arm with a broken plastic fork.

Ariel Mark stood in the doorway, his keys still clutched in a trembling hand, his face draining of color until he looked like a ghost. His eyes scanned the room, taking in the scene: the LED lights casting a glow over the rumpled bedsheets, the heavy scent of sex and four bodies tangled in a display of raw, unapologetic sin. Jax was buried between my legs, his tongue flicking my clit and running through my middle of my lips like eating me out was necessary for his hunger and survival, while Dante was under me, his massive frame silhouetted against the dark headboard.

Her footsteps fade down the hallway until silence returns. I close the door and lock it. The velvet is soft under my fingers. The kind of box that holds something precious. Or something that wants you to think it's precious. I open it. Red lingerie stares up at me. Silk and lace and barely anything at all. A bra designed to cup without covering. A thong that will disappear between my legs. Garters attached to nothing. Engineered to make me feel naked while technically wearing something. A handwritten note is tucked beside the fabric. I recognize the handwriting immediately. The same loops and slants that used to write me love letters in the margins of textbooks. The letters are sharper now,