Nama Red Velvet Novels & Stories

Casor was close on his tail, fury painting his face. "What are you doing Ez? You know the rules, your being foolish!" "I'm just changing locations Cas, relax." Violet was actually excited to play with Brandon, she was still half in shock that he had actually approached her requesting her company and even more so he actually knew her name, that meant that he had previously been aware of her at some point in time. She was even more thrilled because she happened to be quite good at beer pong, her high school party days had pretty much revolved around the sport, it was just that a popular sport played by one and all. Any opportunity to show off in front of Brandon was welcome. She only breif

The bass beat pounded like a heartbeat beneath the crimson brocade shadows of *The Crimson Room*. Smoke drifted along the darkened room, weaving with perfume, sweat, and decadence. Valerio Moretti leaned in the back of the VIP club, his hand wrapped around a glass of black whiskey, unmoving. Partygoers were around him, society's elite losing themselves in excess as if they had no fear of death. Which was appropriate. They did not know that he was there.

Ella laughed. "How many sets? We have a big enough oven." "I'm with Aisha and Jess." Ella spoke up immediately. "James and Aziel." Cas spoke up. "Tj and I." Joe started. "Attracta and Ruby." Nuel smiled "Unfair." "Be faster next time." Nuel smirked. "Choose your flavours guys." "Chocolate." Attracta smiled. "Vanilla." Ella folded her arms. "Red velvet." Cas smiled. " Banana." Jess said.

I smiled when I thought of Ace. When I was done grocery shopping, I hurriedly went home and did my task for my mom’s birthday. I baked a small 6x4 inch round cake. Today, I will be making a red velvet cake. It’s my mom’s favorite. Good thing that I remember that. Red velvet is really not my cup of tea but since it’s my mom’s favorite I will make it very special for the very special person in my life. And I should make it really special because the owner of the company where my dad works will be here. I should not embarrass my father and also my family’s reputation.

His glance conveyed all his frustration, saying, ‘You young people and your newfangled tools! But then a smile appeared on his face and he mumbled, “At least, the cake is good.” Milli laughed as he took another huge forkful, eyes shining his pleasure at the flavor. “It’s called black velvet, a buttermilk cake flavored with dark cocoa powder and espresso. It is my friend’s birthday today and this was his favorite. I left one for him in another friend’s freezer as a surprise.” “You’re a very good person, young lady,” Ben said softly. “And an excellent baker.”

The Red Velvet. The Red Velvet was a club/hotel for the most prominent prostitutes.It was being called the Den of Sins by the Self- Righteous women whose husbands had been frequenting there. I had come here several times to escape Yolanda’s cruelty since I was good friends with the owner,Cassie.A childhood friend of mine that inherited her father's hotel and turned it into a brothel.She let me stay without “working”. This was what Yolanda had used to say I was a prostitute and stripped me of being Luna.But I grew past it,and used the tricks I learned from the women there to seduce.

“Told you. Hidden gem. No paparazzi, no gluten guilt.” We were barely seated before the owner, a cheerful woman with curly grey hair and frosting smudged on her apron, brought out four little sample plates: red velvet, chocolate truffle, strawberry swirl, and vanilla bean with raspberry center. “Okay,” Lucas said, grabbing a fork with childlike glee, “no judgment if I make inappropriate noises while eating.” I laughed. “As long as you don’t cry over cake, we’re good.” Red velvet was first. Moist, creamy, not too sweet. Then the chocolate truffle—so rich it should’ve come with a warning. Lucas groaned dramatically.

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, she said gesturing at the chocolate cake slices in front of us. Gerald's hand slid onto my thighs caressing the inner thigh with enough force to send tremors through me. I bit down on my lip, focusing on the cakes she was presenting. “This is our red velvet with raspberry filling and plain buttercream and then last but not least this last flavour is our French vanilla cake with fresh strawberries”, she added gesturing to the other cakes as she set the forks down. “Someone’s wet, huh?”, he whispered as his finger tapped my clit lightly over the damp fabric. Just then her phone rang, she furrowed her brows, “Please give me a min. I need to take care of something”, she muttered.

The invitation was embossed in blood-red foil on black cardstock. No names. No location. Just one sentence: “Come masked. Come armed. Come ready.” And yet, every powerful figure who’d ever stepped foot in Velvet knew exactly what it meant. They came. By private jet. By motorcade. Through disguised doors. Not to Velvet for it had been sold, gutted, and reborn. But to its ruins. Its bones. The new owners Isolde and Dorian had rebranded it with one word carved in gold above the arched entrance: