Novel & Cerita Lovin' Short Fiction

It was a kiss that spoke of unspoken desires, a longing that had been simmering beneath the surface, now bursting forth in a passionate display of affection. Sonia had waited for this moment, yearning for the touch of his lips against hers, the feel of his strong arms around her. She was determined to cherish their intimate moments, ensuring Vipin felt loved and treasured. She would make love to him in the most beautiful way he had ever imagined, a night that would forever be etched in their memories.

Together, they wove a tapestry of love, each thread intertwined with the others, strengthening their bond with every touch, every kiss, and every whispered promise. Their lovemaking was a symphony of sighs, moans, and the soft rustle of skin against skin. It was a celebration of their love, a defiant stand against the darkness that had threatened to consume Vivi. In this moment, they were invincible, their love a beacon that illuminated the shadows, rendering them powerless.

Rewriting her. Loving her. She closed her eyes. And let him.

Kitty sneaks in. Once under the stream of searing water, I let them fall freely. The tears feel cool on my skin under the heat of the shower. I realize I'm acting like a fool. This isn't love-hell, it's not even friendship-it is just unadulterated lust. I hadn't planned to let my heart get involved, but I've never been a girl who can have casual sex.

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I have been waiting for this to happen, it's been so fucking long I had taken a cock in my ass. With my hands on Liam's shoulders, he leaned in, captured my lips in a kiss, and dictated the pace. He slammed into me while I remained stiff, moaning into his mouth. Though a hand pried my ass open, I thrust my tongue, kissing the shit out of Liam. Oh, my god! If only my husband knew what was happening, if only he knew how many cocks his sweet wife had received in her cheap pussy. Screw me, I doubt he would ever look at me with eyes full of love.

The farmhouse is twenty minutes out. And here, in the car, in the dark, in the particular quiet of two people who have said the real things and don't need to fill the space after them — Here is where I understand something I've been working toward for months. Love isn't the drama of it. It isn't the twenty-one nights or the federal detention center or the locked car on West 47th or the NICU hallway or any of the moments that made the story. It isn't even the grand gesture. The dress. The restaurant. Night Twenty-Two.

More… specific. I read romance novels and decided the first step to getting his attention was to make him see me as something other than Jane’s little friend. I started wearing shorter skirts when I knew I’d see him. Tighter tops. I’d pull my hair up to expose my neck, mimicking gestures I’d seen in movies. But he never gave me a second glance. Not until I went for the nuclear option. Last night, I sent him photos. Not just any photos. Explicit ones. Carefully angled, lit by the dim lamp in my dorm room, leaving nothing to the imagination. I sent them to his private email, the one I’d memorized from seeing it on paperwork years ago.

“My car. Ten minutes. I want to feel you dripping my cum while I fuck you slow and tell you how much I love how you just stood up to my dad.” They skipped the rest of the day. In the back seat of the Rover, parked behind the abandoned warehouse two miles from school, Blake peeled her jeans down and slid inside her again—bare, messy from this morning, the wet squelch loud and filthy. He fucked her slow this time, deep rolls of his hips, eyes never leaving hers. “I love you,” he whispered against her mouth when she came, clenching around him like she never wanted to let go. “Not the hate part. Not the secret part. Just you. All of you.”

The lottery box had been knocked over and had fallen to the ground. Inside, there were no long sticks at all. So it turned out that Mom and Dad never loved me. Just like Grandma had said, they only used the lottery as a shield, putting on a show of fairness while secretly doting on Asher. I started to feel cold even though I had already become a ghost. Because they thought I was sulking in my room, after Mom and Dad came back from the hospital, they began treating me like I was invisible. They no longer set out a bowl for me at mealtimes or called me to draw lots.