Madam Bones Mga Nobela at Kwento

His eyes raced across the document, his breathing harsh, his pupils bulging, as if he could burn a hole through the words by sheer force of will. "How many times did she come?" He fixed the man with a stare that could strip paint. The man smirked. "Three years. More than thirty sessions. That girl was tough. The reactions were brutal every time -- convulsions, high fevers, hair falling out in clumps, falling out by the handful. The last time, her veins were so scarred they could barely get the needle in. When she left, she had thirty thousand dollars in her hands and a smile on her face. She told me, 'I've finally saved up enough for the specialist in the States to fix my boyfriend's leg. He

Gerald. My breathing is rapid and hard, chest rising with the fury still coursing through me. I stare down at the pile of dust, what's left of Damian that is. The stench of rot and death hangs heavy in the air, but then my eyes shift to Iris and all that rage vaporizes like steam. My gaze softens. She stands there in a long, peach-colored silk robe, the curve of her thighs and the valley of her breasts peeking out. Damian’s vile words echo back in my memory,

The room stills when I walk in. Except him. Bones keeps going, oblivious, thrusting like it's his last ride. The girl's moaning, screaming his name. I draw my gun. When Bones roars with release, the first bullet rips through the back of his skull. The second tears through his neck. The third sprays what's left of his brains against the wall behind the bar in a thick, wet arc. His body collapses onto the whore. She screams, scrambling back like she thinks she can outrun the blood.

I ask, practically whispering. Abigail glances over her shoulder, amused. “That’s Dr. Madison Petrosky. Mads.” Mads? No way. Was this the same woman who gave me my exam yesterday? Wild how a lab coat and scrubs can completely camouflage a body like that! She’s in yoga pants and a tank top—nothing flashy or overly tight. And yet… it might as well be sprayed-on body armor. The woman is insane. Not in a fake, filtered I*******m kind of way—no, Madison Petrosky is the real deal. Maybe 5’7”, lithe but curvy in all the right places. Flat stomach, perfectly sculpted hips, and natural-looking D cups that most women would kill for.

Laughing as I slam the door shut. I walk away humming, faintly hearing something shatter against the door. I giggle. I LOVE being a BITCH! It comes to me naturally like a sixth sense. I'm gonna shake things up around here for my entertainment. I know these bitches have skeletons hiding in their closets and I'm gonna bring them out to play. I walk into my room, dimming it with its bright light. "Hi, my name's Maddie," I close my eyes and bow, getting on my knees. "I am here for your pleasure." I lie. "I am here for my pleasure and I'm going to use your body to satisfy my sexual hunger." I desperately want to say.

"I only ask because you seem worried. Are you nervous about the trip? You handled the Union meeting up North so well. This one should be similar, if that helps settle you." "You're very observant," I comment and flinch when a raindrop splatters on my cheek. "It's not the trip. I'm actually excited for the trip; I've always wanted to go to Europe." "Something else then?" "Yes. My appointment tomorrow is a doctor's appointment." Her full brows rise. "I think I understand now." "I know it's early. I haven't been a Luna for—" Bonny lifts her hand and I shut my lips. "No need. I know how things can be during the first few months. Many women get pregnant after finding their mates; it's difficult t

Her talon nails longer than ever and the flames in her eyes dancing about with so much fury that her gaze alone could burn the life out of a person. "You dare to play me! "Madre screams as she moves under a second to Rachel's front. "Ma... Mader, please... "Rachel begs as she knows her explanations are of no use. Madre won't believe her. Indeed fate has turned the tables on her. Madre stabs her talon nails into Rachel's stomach and Rachel Gasps as Mader twists the long nails in Rachel's stomach. Mader digs her hand deeper till she's wrist deep in Rachel's stomach and Rachels pupils shrink as blood gushes out her mouth.

Can't you just behave? Sofia leaned weakly against Vincenzo's chest and let out a few soft coughs before saying weakly, "Vincenzo, don't be mad. Isabella is just heartbroken. Why don't I talk to her properly and have her go back to rest?" As soon as her words fell, a deafening explosion erupted, shaking the entire dock violently. The searchlights overhead swayed precariously. From the nearby containers that hadn't yet fully collapsed came the piercing screech of twisting metal, and a massive sheet of metal hurled straight toward the three of them.

Mateo stopped dead in his tracks, his breath hitching sharply in his chest as he took in the scene. There she was. She was winding her waist against the brass pole, her body completely bare under the red glow for the client on the couch. As Mateo stared at her, his heart hammered violently against his ribs. He saw the intricate silver lace mask covering her eyes. He saw the distinct, incredibly long waves of dark hair falling over her bare shoulders, framing her exposed breasts exactly like the girl from his memory. He recognized the shape of her jaw, the curve of her waist, and the fierce, angry energy radiating from her very skin. It was her. The dancer from the night before.

Benjamin Doctor. I like it. I like her. She’s mine now. Bukowski once said, find what you love and let it kill you. I have found mine—Madelaine—and she’s certainly going to be the death of me. I pulled her dress down and dragged the zipper all the way to the top. Her scent filled my nostrils. Cherry blossom in the rain. That’s what she smells like. She’s so beautiful and soft, her skin creamy as fuck. I take in the sight of her round, perky ass in the blue dress she’s wearing. It’s so short it stops just below her ass, leaving her pale thighs exposed.