Knights Of Round Table Shirt Novels & Stories

That night, I got off work early and brought home some late-night snacks. When I opened the door, I saw a pair of high heels carelessly tossed in the entryway and Gregory’s blazer thrown over the couch. His heavy breathing and the woman’s moans could be heard through the gap between the door and its frame. I was all too familiar with this sight. This time, I did not storm out like I used to. Instead, I sat quietly at the dining table and finished my cold pizza.

Olivia and Carl establish a pattern of behavior at the dinner table, and one more powerful in bed since the same night they met. Meeting at the usual restaurant every Friday night, they don't know each other's lives, what they do for a living, they don't know last names, or if they have someone waiting for them at home. They don't send text messages or calls either, just throw a new proposal on the mattress to be lovers once again and again. Everything is perfect between them, what could go wrong?

" It's a contract. You will be my groom, just for sixty days… ", her loud but annoying voice echoed in his ear. She sat at the edge of the table, " I will hire you to be my groom, and I'll pay you immediately after the contract is over. Don't ever refer to me as your wife, because nothing is binding the both of us together." " No sex. No love. No kisses. No feelings. You are just a hired groom for sixty days. Live your life the way you want it, but not for these sixty days ", she narrated further.

"You will keep teleported back if you choose to want to be with him, remember it!" The kindest man turned into a villain. "I won't lose you to him again!" The ruthless man turned into soft. In between them, Choi was bewildered to choose her right future partner. While she was anxious between them, her family members tried to kill her for the property that was going to be her. Who will she choose? And the teleportation will keep turn the table again and again to make her life worse? Let's see in the chapters!

“Darlene Roberts, you're under arrest for the death of George Martins.”I look up with misty eyes only to see a bunch of cops, guns blazing and aimed at me. Funny enough, I don't even freeze neither do I panic. My attention goes back to my ex lover whose limp body is still warm with blood oozing from his forehead and chest. His shirt is torn and his big eyes are staring blankly at me. I've managed to help shut his mouth which was agape and his twisted lips. It seems he had put up one hell of a struggle before he gave up the ghost.“You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can be used against you in the court of law.Does the cop mean what he has just said? I mean, I'm not the murderer here. I rushed here to help as soon as I could!

“Who do you belong to?” He asked, his breath hot against my face as I straddled him. The way his arms wrapped around my waist made my breath hitch, and I clutched onto his shirt tighter. “Answer me,” he thundered, making me shudder in fright. “I belong to Prince Darion,” I muttered, my voice low. I could feel the sound of my erratic heartbeat drumming against my chest, yet I could only grind my teeth against each other. … Chosen by Darion Gray, I'd become his possession, unable to escape even if I wanted to. Not only had he owned my body, but my soul as well. What I hadn't expected was for me to fall for a man who had worn a mask since the beginning. A mask he never took off.

"Who are you?" I ask, gawking at this ugly man who looks like the devil himself. "Your savior." savior? I may not remember anything from my past, but one thing is for sure, according to my judgment: this monster-lookalike can't be a savior. And from whom did he supposedly save me? "And if you are done ogling me, now, on your knees. Time to serve the purpose for which I saved you." I am snapped out of my thoughts by him tearing his shirt and walking closer in a pretty unnerving way. "Whi...ch is?" I whimper, trying to stand up from the bed and perhaps run for my dear life. Unfortunately, he grabs me viciously before I can take a step. A loud growl slips from my lips as he slams me back on the bed and hovers atop me. "To please me, little dove." He hoarses, embarking on his evil, dirty mission.

I never believed in second chances. Not until the man I gave everything to betrayed me. I lost a million-dollar deal because I thought he’d been in a terrible accident. I rushed back, terrified—only to find out it was a lie. He was fine. He was home. Sleeping with my sister. I drank that night. Too much. I almost got myself killed. Instead, I met him. Golden eyes. Too handsome. Too Elegant. He pulled me in and tore me down in the same breath. Every time I thought of him, I remembered his cruel words and cursed the asshole all over again. Then I learned the truth. He was the Lycan King. “You called the Lycan King an asshole?” Jessie yelled. “I didn’t know,” I groaned. “He was just a man in a white shirt with a really mean mouth.” She went quiet. “Then why did he come back for you?”

In the VIP lounge of an underground casino, Maeve, the Falcone family's princess, had been plied with too much hard liquor. Fueled by alcohol, someone goaded her into revealing the most shameless thing she'd ever done to win over the Don. She swirled her glass, pointed at me dealing cards behind the table, and threw her head back with a laugh. "Seven years ago, when Declan was in a coma after a shootout, I took his private phone. And I deleted the distress message that bitch sent him. Every last trace of it. Then I replied in his name: You're a burden. Go die." "You'll never guess what happened next. That idiot stood outside the safe house all night in a downpour, like a stray dog. I almost died laughing…" The room erupted in crude laughter. Only the man enthroned at the head of the table remained silent. The crystal whiskey glass in his hand shattered with a sharp crack. Blood mixed with the amber liquor, trickling over the veins on the back of his hand before dripping onto the carpet. His murderous, bloodshot eyes were locked on me. I calmly dealt the last hole card in front of him and offered a clean, white silk handkerchief. "Don Declan, you should wipe your hand. Blood on the felt is bad luck." After all, some stains never wash out.

My mother-in-law, Kylie McGowan, told me that she wanted to experience the life of the younger crowd, so I took her to my husband Jerome Callen's newly opened upscale bar for a quiet drink. I had just ordered her a signature cocktail when a woman from the booth across the aisle sauntered over, wine glass in hand. Her eyes flicked over the menu on our table, and she laughed mockingly. "Seriously? You ordered the cheapest drink on the menu? Did you bring this old lady here just to enjoy the free AC? People like you should stay in the gutter. This place isn't meant for penniless people!" I rose to my feet, holding back my temper. "We're paying for our drinks here. What does our drink choice have to do with you?" But she suddenly snapped, grabbed a half-finished beer bottle off a nearby table, and swung it at my head. "My husband's the owner of this bar! I could smash your skull in and still afford the damages! Get out, you pauper! Don't be an eyesore here!" I wiped the liquor off my face as my entire body shook with anger. Then I turned away, started my livestream, and spoke directly to my followers. "Look here, everyone! I'm going live to catch a cheater. Let's go explore my husband's other home."