Italian Short Stories Novels & Stories

They didn't call him Il Re Nero for nothing. "Do you have any weaknesses gattina?" Gattina. He'd like to call her than and the word always did something to her. She felt the familiar moisture pooling between her thighs making her shift uncomfortably on her chair. "I guess we all do, that’s what makes us human." She paused, choosing her next words carefully. "Is there something bothering you, Mr. Mancini?"

My secret words and my filthy thoughts. Heat flooded my face. I suddenly wanted the ground to open up and swallow me. “I…I attached the wrong file,” I whispered, voice cracking. “It was never meant for anyone.” He stepped closer. Close enough that I felt the faint heat of his body. “Yet you described everything with such precision. The way my voice would sound against your ears, how my fingers would feel sliding underneath your skirt while you tried so desperately to maintain your composure.” His gaze dropped to my mouth, then lower, tracing the rapid rise of my chest. “Does writing those scenes excite you, Freya Laurent? Did your body respond while you imagined me fucking you in this very o

Until now, strange short stories had only very short stories. But from volume two I intend to add stories that have 10 to 20 captains as well. These stories are not so long nor have so much visibility as a separated book. For this reason, I decided to move all then into strange short stories, that is already a storybook of different themes.

Disclaimer This book is a modern version of the Classic Romeo and Juliet love story and it is therefore set for the most part in Sicily and Italy. The two families involved are Mafia families so some of the script is written in Italian with the English translation in brackets. It does not distract from the story, if you cannot read Italian, read the English! Enjoy!! 'Alessandro, fermati, per favore devo riposare.' [Alessandro, stop, please I must rest.]

I asked again, she gazed at me and fucking darted it again. Fucking hell! What the fuck is wrong with her, I know something is wrong but she fucking don't wanna spit it out. "You Italians..." I muttered with a growl. Yeah ,the Italians are so fucking annoying. Sometimes I wonder if it's a trait passed on to them by their fucking ancestors "Life problems?" I asked giving it one more trial. She didn't reply, she just batted her fucking lashes and lowered her head. Seeing that she wouldn't budge no matter how I asked, I decided to use a more typical means by telling her a fucking made story.

A young, happy couple with their five-year-old laughed boisterously, narrating some tale in their native tongue. Dominic finally joined me, wrapping a hand around my shoulder, tucking me closer to his damp frame, and then following my gaze. There was something very familiar and intimate between them, even though it was difficult to understand the way they conversed in fluent Italian. “What are they talking about?” I asked Dominic, whose Italian was surprisingly flawless. “He is telling his son the story of how they met. She…was a painter. Apparently, she was looking for a muse when they found each other.”

So he’s an Italian, huh? Giordano nodded, “Like what you’ve said... Still the same. Europe is in my control.” Adam stood up. He went to where the alcohol is while I am just wandering around, fascinated with unique books and literature. My eyes went on the specific. It was called The Doctor by Nikki Sloane. I arched my eyebrows, thinking the owner of this book is probably reading Nikki Sloane’s story. “When are you going back to Italy?”

"This is good. This is cool. This is interesting, and this is... hmm... pretty wild. Nicholas probably won't let you sleep while you're in your underwear like this." Josephine was wide-eyed to see Anna taking on a variety of colors and sexy lingerie styles. "Anna ... oh, are you crazy?" Anna giggled. "Italy is always impressive. A lot of films about the Mafia are told about Italy. Hmm ... I think Lynn has mentioned several titles, The Godfather, Goodfellas, Scarface, and several others. Lynn is very fluent when it comes to the mafia." Josephine looked up at Anna's bright face and sparkling truly eyes. "Anna?"

The air in the library was thick with the scent of old books and the faint hum of fluorescent lights. Sadile Marconi, her fiery red hair cascading over her shoulders like a river of flames, sat at a secluded table, her green eyes darting between the pages of her textbook and the clock on the wall. The numbers seemed to mock her, ticking away the minutes until her next class, a class she was dangerously close to failing.

Sarah had texted Daniel an hour earlier: “Pick up milk, bread, and whatever else we need. Ethan’s tagging along—he needs stuff for his new apartment.” That was the official story. The real story started three months ago in the guest bedroom after too much wine at Sarah’s birthday dinner. A late-night kitchen raid turned into hands under shirts, mouths crashing together in the dark pantry while Sarah slept upstairs. Since then it had been stolen moments—quick handjobs in the garage, blowjobs in Ethan’s car in the driveway, once even a frantic fuck on the laundry room floor while Sarah was at yoga. Never enough. Never safe. Always hungry.