Novel & Cerita Needlemouse Sarah

Elara's POV When we all turned around, my heart nearly stopped. Sarah stood in the doorway, my assistant, looking professional and composed in her neat business suit. She held a laptop under one arm and a small USB drive in her other hand. "Sarah?" I breathed out, confused. What was she doing here?

“By the way, Sarah, why did you invite me to the Snuggle app? I mean, we’re not particularly close friends or anything.” Sarah paused, mischief twinkling in her eyes as they met mine. “Ah, Mr. Walters, you certainly have a curious nature,” she chuckled. “Well, I’ll let you in on a little secret. The moment you fired May Wolfe for disappointing a client, I knew things with Lucille Hall did not work out. I was hopeful that with Snuggle in the picture, things would be different.” I nodded, acknowledging Sarah’s perceptive observation. “You have quite the keen eye, Sarah. I appreciate your insight and thank you for inviting me to Snuggle.”

I waited quietly by the door, pretending to check my list. "...Yes, it's done. Paid in full," Malcolm growled into the phone. "But she needs to stay quiet. Keep Sarah on a short leash. She's becoming a liability." My body went cold. Sarah. A secret woman, a payment, a liability. It all clicked. I remembered seeing a tiny, curved initial, an S tattooed high on the left arms of Jacob and on Aiden's biceps was a SARAH in a heart. I’d dismissed it as meaningless brotherhood.

The door suddenly cracked open, I sent my gaze to the door and a woman walked in. “Oh, thank goodness. You are finally awake!” She beamed, walking toward me. I stood up from the chair and staggered backwards. “Who are you?” I asked, my eyes scanning her suspiciously. “I am Sarah, a healer. I found you by the road a month ago, stabbed and bleeding out, so I brought you home and treated your wounds. “She sighed in relief.” it took several herbs and medicines to finally bring you back.” A month ago? Did she just say a month ago?

It freaking did! My hips ground down on Elias's hand. He curled his fingers, hitting my G-spot. "Ahhh!!" I cried out. Stars burst behind my eyes; they were both pleasing me in their own ways, focusing on my pleasure. Elias suddenly slowed. "You look miserable, Nurse Sarah. Come join us. Help me make Milka feel good." Sarah bit her lip, her cheeks were all flushed. She stood, stripping off her top and bra. Her tits were smaller than mine but perky. Her nipples are hard.

Peter kneels before her, exhausted and dripping with sweat. “You’ve done well today,” Sarah says, voice deceptively sweet. “I think you’ve earned a reward. I’m going to stroke this cock for a while. No cumming, of course. Just a little relief.” Peter swallows hard, already knowing it’s another trap. Still, he obeys and lies back on the bed. Sarah curls up behind him, pressing her soft, heavy breasts against his back. She pours coconut oil into her palm and wraps her warm, slick hand around his cock.

The drive to the pack hospital was a blur of adrenaline and as soon as I walked through the sliding glass doors, I spotted Sarah, a junior researcher and one of the few people in this pack who didn't look at me like a tool to be used. "Nilah? You're early," she said, looking up from a clipboard. "I thought you were working from home today to finish the silver-stability report for the Alpha." I paused, a thought occurring in my head. Sarah was a special kind of werewolf. Her heightened senses were better than almost everyone in this building. In my last life, it was clear that the whole mating thing was fake, but I wasn't able to see it clearly and even till now, I still can't feel that it's

Annie Matthews sighed, torn between two wildly conflicting emotions. On the one hand, she was thrilled to death that Sarah was finally going to be getting out of the house once in a while. The girl had been dealt a pretty crappy hand these past few years, and God knows, if anyone deserved a distraction, it was her. But was the owner of Dangerous Curves, that dive bar overrun with criminals and prostitutes and drug dealers, really the kind of distraction that Sarah needed? On the whole, Annie thought not.

Pete started rolling his shirt sleeve up, “Take a sample from me Sarah and let’s get it processed so we can get some sleep.” Sarah got a needle and syringe from her kit and tore the packets to open them. Pete dipped his hand into the kit bag, grabbed the tourniquet, slid it up his arm and pulled it tight. Sarah opened an alcohol swab and wiped the crook of his arm before cupping his elbow with her other hand to steady it before she put the needle in. She hesitated with the needle just above his skin as she felt what she could only describe as a low electric current run up her arm. Sarah flicked her eyes up to Pete’s.

You probably just assumed it was a response to her extreme-antireligious philosophy, but there’s more to it than that. When she was a kid, Sarah’s brain-dead, alcoholic, wife-beating, asshat of a father came up with the fucking brilliant idea of giving his four-year-old daughter a pet porcupine for her birthday. She named it Pinny since it looked like a pincushion. You can probably see where this is going. Sarah and her mother spent the majority of Sarah’s fourth birthday in the emergency room—Daddy Dearest, of course, couldn’t be bothered to go with them—getting the quills removed from her backside. I’ve seen the scars. (Sarah is going to murder me for telling you this . . . and I don’t mea