Misato Novelas e Histórias

Cricket “So, what’s up, love?” Maisie asked. “Minus.” She pulled a stool out and sat beside me. “Hmm. Yes, I’ve heard all about the mysterious Mr. Minus.” I grimaced. “Ergo, you’ve heard Hatch’s version from the filter of way overprotective and nosy brother.” Maisie giggled. “Probably. Fortunately, I’m fluent in Hatchese and have gotten surprisingly good at figuring out what he’s really on about.”

At a gathering with friends, my boyfriend, Donovan McPherson, suggested we play a game of “I Have, Have You?” The winner would get to make one request of him. Everyone there knew I had been trying to get him to make me, Celeste Campbell, Mrs. McPherson for five years, and for as long he had not obliged. Now they all assumed he was giving me a chance. So, tacitly aligned, everyone held back to let me win. But his childhood sweetheart, Lily Kensington, would not relent. “Donovan watched the first snowfall with me. “He gave me a scarf he knitted with his own hands. “The tattoo on his wrist is my initials. “His passenger seat is permanently adjusted to fit my height.” After those four, I had onl

I state irritatingly wondering who could be disrupting our conversation. One of the maids walked in, "Alpha" "Yes?" "The Luna is awake."

Feeling his fingers in her cleavage, which reached down to her lower back, made her shiver for a moment… “Are you cold?” he asked. “A little bit,” he answered to disguise it. They drove to the parking lot and Diana could admire her car. A black Maserati that sparkled as if it were an exotic jewel. Ian looked like a gentleman, he opened the passenger door for her, and for a moment they stood face to face, almost touching noses. “Come in,” he said hoarsely. The car smelled of him, of his manly perfume. Diana closed her eyes for a moment, she wanted to savor a little the chance of having found her and let herself go for as long as she could.

I asked. “On my way downtown. What’s up?” “I’m at the lounge. Room Six.” There was a beat of silence. “You want me to come?” “I didn’t call to hear your voice.” “Right,” he said. “On my way.” I ended the call just as Rina returned with the bottle. Château Margaux 2005. Uncorked. “Pour,” I said. She did so silently, and perfectly. Then vanished like smoke. I brought the glass to my lips eye closed as I let it pass my lips.