Loser Lover Txt Novels & Stories

My lover never did things by accident and I wondered — what was his purpose? For a moment nothing happened. I waited, expecting the metal covering over the narrow oblong window to be removed. ‘Don't we have to put some money in the slot?’ I whispered. My lover shook his head. ‘We’ve paid for a special show. Be patient, darling.’ His fingers traced the contour of my cheek. I leaned against him, wanting to feel his warmth against my skin. My dress was sleeveless and I shivered when he ran the tips of his fingers up my bare arm. His lips moved to my neck. They were firm, demanding. I knew what he wanted and parted my thighs.

It took so long and too much to find him and now that he has, he will not let him out of his sight ever again. This is the end for Alexander. No more running. No more chasing. It's all over. All His. With a grunt, Matthew pulled his fingers out from his Lover's slick pulsing heat and without warning replaced them with his girth. He watched as Alexander's eyes widened, his pupils dilated, he could see Alexander's chest rise and fall rapidly beneath him, his face flushed red, the blood rushing wildly through his veins, and the look on his Lover's face; it was sinful, Matthew lost his mind, his blue eyes had darkened and glittered like sapphires. Alexander moaned loudly as he felt his Lover sli

Then Loren stopped him, "I don't want to c*m to your ordinary fingers," Caleb understood and took off his jogger pants while Loren laid with her legs apart. Her hands treated her cl*t as she waited. Caleb's d**k was long and thick, it rested heavily on Loren's stomach when he laid on her. He licked her helix, trailing his lips down to her neck and sucking intently on it.

One night. No names. No consequences—until the whole world sees it. Six months after being left at the altar, Celeste Hartwell is done being the beautiful sister everyone underestimates. So when she slips into London’s most exclusive masked club, she wants one thing that belongs entirely to her: an anonymous night with a stranger who asks no questions and makes no promises. Then footage of their encounter is leaked beside a £250,000 payment into Celeste’s account; and the man she is accused of sleeping with turns up dead. There’s only one problem. Celeste never slept with Sebastian Huxley. She slept with Michael Harbinger, the elusive operative who spent years inside the consp

he speaks and his voice is now gentle, all the bitterness from his voice now vanished, replaced with a genuine feeling of care and gentleness. The man leans down, his hair brushing against my face slowly, his forehead resting against mine, his hand cupping and holding my cheek with his gloved hand. “I promise, nothing will ever come to harm you ever again-” he whispers, and my heart fills with an odd fuzzy and warm feeling that spreads slowly, like ivy, into my ribcage, and seeps into my veins, carrying this feeling all over within my body, spreading it like wildfire, until my cheeks heat slowly and my eyes swell with tears.

They can't do anything to help Memphis and Fleur cause they didn't know their story but their hearts hurting for them to have this situation because they love each other back then. "I forgive you too, M-Memphis! I-i'm sorry!" Fleur cries, "I am so sorry, Memphis! And———I Love You Too, L-Love!" That was the last word she says and let herself fall in the ravine.

“Perfect Lover?” I nodded, leaning slightly against the chair across from him. “It’s silly, I know. But the story behind them is kind of sweet. The idea is that if two people are perfectly synchronized, in the same ‘time zone,’ they’ll never miss each other. But if they aren’t…” I gestured vaguely, feeling oddly self-conscious. “...well, it’s not anyone’s fault. They’re just living in different worlds. Different stages of life, different priorities. You can’t force that kind of timing.” He studied me for a moment, something unreadable in his dark eyes. “And you think the person I’m waiting for is in a different time zone?”

but still. "D-Do you have AIDS?" I repeated. Message The corner of his lips twitched upward as he shook his head. "I want you to be my lover, Sabiana. No discussions, no arguments. You'll stay here. Live here. Live your life like other women do. I'll provide for you. You'll eat, shop, and buy whatever you want. Just one condition, be my lover.

Chapter 72: Mr. Lover ETHAN’S POV The rain pounded the penthouse windows, a relentless rhythm that matched the thump of my heart as I lay sprawled on Lucian’s bed, my chest heaving, my skin slick with sweat. His scent—whiskey, leather, and something raw—clung to me, he joined me on the bed, a naughty smirk playing on the corners of his mouth, the afterglow of our reunion burning through me. His arm draped over my waist, heavy, grounding, his breath warm against my neck.

Weak. “Am I?” Loveth’s voice was silky smooth. “Maybe. Or maybe you’re just not as clever as you think you are. Maybe you thought you could sneak around, play with fire, and not get burned.” Her gaze hardened, the pretense of pleasantry vanishing. “Let me make something crystal clear, Novah. Ashton Vince is *mine*. He has always been mine. He will *always* be mine. Whatever pathetic little fantasy you’ve cooked up in that shallow little head of yours… forget it. It’s over.”