Novel & Cerita Love Short Stories

Cleo’s eyes go wide, her mind not quite processing as she stutters. “A V-V-Vampire…” “Yes. I’m sorry, but I couldn’t lose you…” Cleo thought she would have been some sort of upset, felt some sort of resentment, but instead she felt even more connected to him; she felt strangely complete. Cleo reached up and wiped the red streaks from his cheeks and whispered. “I love you…” Cleo closed the distance and pressed her lips to his in a slow, passionate kiss. When Cleo pulled back, she took a deep breath, sighed, and said.

“I was poisoned by a man I once called friend. He wanted my lands and title. I died slowly in the room just below us, calling out for a wife who was no longer there. The pain was terrible, but the loneliness afterward was worse. I remained trapped here for over a century.” His hand slid lower between my thighs. Cool fingers found me wet and stroked me gently. I moaned softly and pressed back against him. “I am sorry,” I whispered. “You must have been so lonely.” “I was.” his fingers circled my most sensitive spot with perfect pressure. “Until you came to this house. So quiet and gentle, yet full of hidden fire. You have awakened me, Helen.”

All the kids in the orphanage were invited, and they laughed and giggled happily as they watched. Castor revealed a camellia flower and a ring in his hands, shakily offering them to Carina. "I like you, Carrie. I've always wanted to marry you since I was a little boy. I know that you've been hurt by some things in the past and that you have a fear of marriage now. But I still hope that you'll give me a chance to take care of you for the rest of my life. "I will never make you sad or let you cry a single tear again!"

I closed my eyes and brushed my lips against hers. Love is all about becoming silly. In order to have it, you need to come out of your comfort zone and embrace it with all your heart. There would be many love stories displaying different types of love. Some remain incomplete. Some are painful. Some are filled with happiness, while others are built by destiny. But in the end, it is all about finding the intense love in each other and holding onto it.

“Okay, then explain it to me again, because from what I remember you telling me about it, it’s just about how like love is like a sticky note.” “Close,” I begin explaining, “he said that love can be written on crumpled stationery, written on sticky notes wedged between the pages of a book or stuck on a fridge door, or baked into the edges of a chiffon cake. The point is that love takes different forms but the common thing about is that people like talking about it. Kind of like how we always end up interacting with it in some way, and we are all obsessed with it on some sort of level.”

We went from seeing each other every day to once every three months. Yet, every time he came back from a business trip, he would come home first and bring me a flower. And I would make him a simple bowl of noodle soup, just like I used to when we were kids. That day was just like any other. I made the noodles and waited for Felix to come home. I waited and waited, but instead, I got a call from the hospital. Time no longer mattered to Felix. Because my love was forever frozen at the age of 20.

Of loving someone. ⚘ little ⊹ lies ··································································································································

🌹Aurora 🌹 The following days were different—different in a way that sent a strange warmth curling through my chest, a slow-burning fire that I wasn’t sure I wanted to put out. Damien and I weren’t suddenly in love, nor had we solved all the problems that stood between us, but something had shifted. It started with small things.

Our eyes locked as I slowly pushed inside her. The feeling was overwhelming. She was warm, tight, and perfect. Rachel gasped softly, her hands gripping my shoulders as I filled her completely. I stayed still for a moment, letting her adjust, letting myself feel every inch of the woman I loved wrapped around me. “I love you,” I whispered, kissing her deeply as I began to move. My thrusts were slow and deep, not rushed or frantic. This was not p**n. This was love. Every stroke was a promise. Every moan she made was answered with a kiss.

I obeyed like a good boy and lowered myself between her legs, my mouth hovering inches from her pussy, then I paused to look up at her. “Tell me you love me." Her eyes widened, shocked at the sudden request. "Please," I begged, my voice breaking. "I need to hear it. I need to know I didn't imagine it that day.” She propped herself up on her elbows, looking down at me. Her chest was heaving, her skin flushed, and her eyes filled with so much love, clouded with lust. "I love you, Dian. I'm in love with you." She said slowly, as if spelling out the words for me to understand better.