Marianne On You Novels & Stories

Heat bloomed in my chest again, familiar and unwanted. I clenched my fists and forced myself to keep walking. The door opened before I knocked. Marian stood there in a light dress, her hair loose, her face calm. Too calm. “Ryan?” she said, blinking like she was surprised. “What are you doing here?” The spell pulled at me hard then, urging me closer, whispering that she was beautiful, that I wanted her, needed her. I hated it. “I need to talk to you,” I said coldly.

Get the man a bag of popcorn, and he'd have an entire show to watch. "Listen up, Mr. Satan, let's get to the point. What's the catch?" I got straight to the point. I have no time to beat around the bush. "Satan?" "Yup. Get to the point. What do you get by marrying me?" "A wife!" Anybody got a length of rope about six feet long, a little noose at the end? I'm going to kill this man. "You'll shoot yourself in the foot and lose before you answer me straight, won't you?"

she said placing the coffee on the table, “I…” “I'll be leaving now” Kane interrupted Marianne. Thompson smiled and sat down, “Marianne, I love you. I love you so much and I am ready to spend my life with you. My night has become a sunny dawn because of you. Since I have set my eyes on you, I don't want to see another lady except for you” Marianne was trying to zip up her cloth back, so she can be comfortable, “Mr. Thompson you….”

I turned to head back to the sports field when someone grabbed my arm. Marian. Her voice dropped low. “I’m not supposed to say this, but if you love yourself, stop whatever is going on between you and Jalen. Or I’ll make your life even more miserable than it already is.” I inhaled shakily, my heart pounding. “Did I make myself clear?” she snapped. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, ma’am Marian,” I whispered. Her expression softened—mockingly—and she smirked. “Soon, darling. Soon you’ll know.” She patted my shoulder and walked away.

“Honestly, I would like to ask her the same question. She keeps clinging to me as though I'm some sort of lifeline she can't live without, and it's exhausting.” “Adri—” I didn't give him a chance to finish. “If you're done here, then leave.” “Gladly.” Without another word, Jayson stormed out the front door. No sooner had he left than Marianne descended the stairs, dressed in a fitted red gown with matching heels and heavy lip gloss that made her look like the spitting image of a clown. No doubt she was on her way to George's house. Ignoring her, I went over to the kitchen and got a glass of water.

Marianne whispering to anyone who would listen that I was a curse on the pack. “You think you’re so special now,” Marianne continued, her voice low and vicious. “But I see right through you. You’re nothing but a pretty face, and pretty faces don’t last forever. When Damien gets bored of you, and he will, you’ll have nowhere to go. But I’ll still be here.”

Everything about Damian’s house was unnervingly quiet, expensive silence that echoed. I was halfway to the staircase when the sound of heels against marble reached my ears. Sharp. Unhurried. Confident. I froze. A few seconds later, Marianne appeared at the top of the stairs, her hand lightly resting on the railing as she climbed. Her dark hair fell in perfect waves over her shoulder, her lips painted the same dangerous red I’d seen before. She looked every bit like someone who belonged here,poised, untouchable, perfect. Was she ever out of heels?

They’d brought me here. I took a shaky breath and knocked. No answer. Another knock—quieter. Still nothing. I should’ve walked away. But instead, I pushed the door open. Marianne stood by her window, back turned, robe untied. It hung loose on her shoulders, barely covering the swell of her hips. Her long hair cascaded down her spine, and her skin glowed like it had been dipped in moonlight. She turned slowly, and our eyes locked. Not a word passed between us.

Daddy's Christmas Muse(Taboo Fuc,k):>Ep9 Marianne is a goddess in the flesh. The word 'gorgeous' hardly does her justice. Her cheeks are like silk, her skin the color of a sun kissed beach. She has the softest pair of lips I have ever seen. They beg to be kissed. And her tits--no. Wait. Not 'tits'. Never 'tits'. Her 'breasts', so perfectly ripe and swollen just so. Not overly, but far from nonexistent. I sometimes get lost thinking about them. The way she sways when she walks. Does she even know the depths of arousal she brings to my loins?

She gripped her dress so tightly her knuckles had turned white. Naomi, arm in arm with Zayne, walked up gracefully in a navy gown that accentuated her elegance. Her polite smile made her look like a forgiving matriarch, but anyone who looked closely could see the malice lurking just beneath the surface.