Little Miss Tiny Novels & Stories

Maybe this Maria De la Fonte that they confused me for, was a whore. Tiny returned with a bottle of perfume, and without saying anything, spritzed it all over me. I choked into the gag. She pulled me to a seat and got a brush. Her hands weren't merciful. She straightened my hair with a brush and packed my golden, voluminous hair into a bun. When she was done, a small smile appeared on her face, which frightened me more than her frown. “You're ready,” she said. “It's time to meet Vincenzo Morano and for your sake, you'd better wear a smile.”

But they didn’t feel the same. And that was the problem. Her phone buzzed. Busy today. I’ll call you later. Avery stared at the message. Then typed back. Okay. She sent it. Then sat there for a second longer than she should have. Because that one word felt… small. Too small for how much she was feeling. But what else was she supposed to say? Don’t disappear? That sounded dramatic. I miss you? That felt… vulnerable. Too vulnerable. She set her phone down instead.

“So I might not be home on Saturday.” She wasn’t the one who’s feeling bad, I’d planned to have a girls party with her. “Whose party is it?” I asked anyway. “It's private… but his last name is Klein.” Misan said. She wasn’t the one who’s feeling bad, I’d planned to have a girls party with her. “You could come,” she grinned. I’m surprised, I don’t have any gown that would fit for an influential party. “As what?” “Assistant, I mean we could call it a voluntary service.”

The city lights glittered like fireflies below Adrian Blackwood’s penthouse as Lola stepped in to finalize their rehearsal per Adrian’s request, the soft hum of the elevators fading behind her. She carried a bottle of red wine, knowing full well it was probably the most reckless decision she’d made since agreeing to this fake engagement. Adrian was already there, casually leaning against the kitchen counter, sleeves rolled up, his tie loosened just enough to suggest he didn’t care, but somehow, everything about him screamed control.

"I don't have time to play hide-and-seek with you. The day after tomorrow is Nancy's birthday. Come apologize and we'll put everything that happened before behind us." I didn't reply. Instead, I boarded a plane with Clementine in my arms. Two days later, Shawn booked out an entire restaurant to throw Nancy an extravagantly grand birthday party. "Shawn, is Karina still mad at me? Is that why she won't even come to my birthday party?" Nancy, perched on her stiletto heels, lazily brushed her long legs against Shawn. "As if she would ever dare to do that. She's nothing but a lowly flower vendor. Does she really think she's climbed her way up into high society?"

“She attends university four days a week. Most classes are in the media building. She usually studies in the central library on Tuesdays and Thursdays.” “What about friends?” “Her closest friend appears to be Tara Mills. Same course. They spend most afternoons together.” “Boyfriend?” “None that we could identify.” “Former boyfriend?” “One university relationship that ended last year. Nothing dramatic. No public arguments or complaints.” I picked up Missy’s photograph from the folder. Her bright hair framed her face as she smiled at the camera. “What else?” “She runs the baking account herself. No management team. No paid promotions beyond small local products. She films mostly in her apartme

We are just actively, trying to completely reclaim our own independence. Exactly one entire hour later, a completely loud, and entirely obnoxious knock echoed through my apartment. I opened the door to find Missy standing there. She was, already dressed in a completely tight, glittering silver mini-dress that caught the hall light every single time she breathed. She held a completely massive, and entirely half-empty margarita glass in her hand. She had fully, delivered on her promise to arrive with the necessary alcohol. We actively spent the next chaotic forty-five minutes doing our makeup.

Her little hands go still. She blinks up at me. “Hi.” My throat tightens. “Hi.” “This is Missy,” Camile says, casually sipping her tea. “She’s three. Her favorite color is purple. She hates peas. And she thinks the moon follows her when she walks outside.” I can’t look away. Missy. Missy. The name thuds through my chest like a heartbeat. Camile lets the silence stretch before adding, “She also has your laugh. And your ears.”

She doesn't appear to be a bodyguard but more closely resembles a model or celebrity. My eyes widened, and my mouth was left wide open while I watched her walk down the stairs. Tiny teased me by wiping the drool off my mouth while plastering a grin on his face. She honestly looks amazing, and I can't wait to introduce her as my girlfriend for tonight's event. I'm sure everybody will turn their heads on us, not because I'm the most wanted man on the island, but because I'm with the most gorgeous woman on the island. Tiny waved his hand over my face. "Junior, you're drifting off," he murmured.

I thought you already used them all. - I know. Missy knelt on the bed, letting him have a view of the semi-transparent blue lace bra and the set of thin elastic straps that led down to the satin white fabric of the thong panties, which she knew perfectly well didn't cover anything else. it was made to cover up – But Cinderella has always been one of my favorite princesses. So I decided to save her lingerie for a special occasion. Missy smiled coquettishly and, seeing that he was still petrified, in front of her, a gigantic bulge rising from her suit pants, she moved seductively towards her husband, rubbing her half-naked body against his as an offer – Did my prince charming like the surprise