Milkman Novels & Stories

Even through all the difficulties and troubles, we were going to do fine just like we have been until now. Even if it seemed like it wasn't working out, we would still try our best and never let go of each other. After all, ours was a love that was not going to die out for eternity. THE END Lance Storm's story available! Title: My Mafia Rescuer Elian Storm's story available! Title: My Boss Is In The Mafia?

I need his help. I look at the bottles of milk that are on the floor just waiting to be chilled. I don’t have any more milk to give him. “Tomorrow morning, we are going to milk again. I wasn’t kidding when I told you that we’re broke. I want to sell some of this at the market- place in town. I know that a lot of men are going to want it. The ones that know what breast milk tastes like. They’re going to want it all the time, just like I do. But no one is going to get my little milk maid. No one is going to take you from me.” He shakes his head, kissing me on the mouth.

Without touching my butt to the seat, I peed and hurried to wash my hands. The hunger in my stomach screamed at me and against my better judgment, I went ahead and grabbed some food. The line hardly moved, and my patience ran thin. An older man with torn clothes pulled out a pocketful of change and tossed it onto the counter. "Did ya hear about that ole' gang that killed the kid in Dallas?" The man at the counter tossed a dirty look over his glasses. "No, what happened?"

“I'm not belittling you, young man. I just can't think of any reason why I should be afraid of you. You look like a nice young man and harmless,” His eyes widened as he heard what I said. I took a deep breath and introduced myself. “By the way, my name is Dane Steele, and I am the Alpha King of Lotus Pack. You are here in our territory, Greenwoods Village,” I said, offering my palm for a handshake. The young man looked at me suspiciously, as if he doubted my words. Even though his body is numb with pain, he avoids my hand offer. “D-Don't come near me!”

“I see your mouth moving, but all I hear are empty threats. You are nothing without me. Just a lonely bannik without a heart.” Morozko's eyes shot open. “What did you say?” “You heard me, you cruel, heartless alcoholic idiot!” Words tumbled out of his mouth: “Heartless? Since when does my lack of human anatomy concern you? And I am far from lonely, which would be a blessing. I have you thrust upon me to deal with! My work is serving Dima, and I take pride in my banya. Being a bannik is a lonely vocation, but that does not mean that I am not content. And to Morena’s wintry wastes with you. I never needed you, you stupid sniveling mooncalf.”

Her favorite by the writer. He was young, definitely younger than her, dressed in jeans with holes and a white linen shirt tucked in the front with a brown leather jacket over it. His hair was dark brown, almost black and hung in loose ringlets to his shoulders. He was wearing what looked like very expensive boots. He may have been the most beautiful man she had ever seen, in person. He glanced her way and his eyes met hers. They were so blue she was sure they were contacts. She was flushed, she could feel it. She looked down and started toward the other side of the shelf, trying to seem unaffected. She peeked through the books and noticed he was coming closer, still thumbing through the boo

Immediately Layo and his mother left, my mother got up, dusted her flat shoes and wore them while adjusting her side bag. She left without uttering a word. I went inside the kitchen and boiled water to make tea. After taking the tea I made, I took a bath and cooked lunch. I was about going to the bar when our landlord walked in. Our landlord is a huge bearded man in his late sixties. He is dark and always gave a hard look. He loves wearing an overall black gown which covered the soles of his feet. The toddlers and children in the neighborhood flee at the sight of him. They called me the ‘Devil.’. He barely smiled and had only few acquaintances. He is old and unmarried. “Good morning Oga Land

Etan glanced at the milkshake in her hand and he had a disgusted look on his face. Elliot wanted to remind Jean that she'd better not bother, and that it was useless, and that Mr. Mann would never drink it. But he found he was wrong in no time. Although Etan refused her constantly, he couldn't stand her playing cute. He lowered his head, took a sip, and frowned, "It's awful!" Elliot's hand on the steering wheel almost trembled. What was that? He couldn't believe it! Mr. Mann, who had a fetish for sanitation and never shared drinks with others, was sharing a straw with Jean! It had lipstick marks on it!

He had better get out of there now. As his luck would have it, Hassan, the store owner at the counter spotted him just as he was about to turn away. "Oi!" he called, his baritone voice carrying loud in the concrete room. "There's that your neighbour, the rancher," he said, in the girl's direction. "Oi, Mentor. I don't suppose you've met your pretty little neighbour. Have you?" Mentor swallowed painfully and his pulse ratcheted up. He watched, wide-eyed as his 'pretty little neighbour' turned in his direction.

Still taking sliding steps closer to us. James looked as though someone had slapped him. Staring at Mathis nervously. The miller’s boy. Mathis made it sound so filthy... The miller’s boy was a man two stone, at least. Old Jake the miller was the oldest villager in Drimidan. His son is a man. Not a boy. Why is Mathis calling him that? “I know what you like to do in the darkest hours...” Mathis sing songed. “And why you want this woman.”