Piccolo Arms Crossed Novels & Stories

Together: right here in my arms tonight. They both ended the song with happy faces, Amalia's heart was throbbing faster but this time, not for being scared but rather, from too much happiness. Mr. Brown kisses her on her forehead, and switch off the light before leaving the room. It didn't take long for Amalia to visit her fantasy land...

𝘳 𝘧𝘦𝘦𝘵 𝘰𝘯 𝘦𝘪𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘴𝘪𝘥𝘦𝘴 𝘥𝘢𝘯𝘨𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘱𝘳𝘦𝘤𝘢𝘳𝘪𝘰𝘶𝘴𝘭𝘺 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘩𝘢𝘯𝘥𝘴 𝘱𝘭𝘶𝘤𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘷𝘦𝘴 𝘧𝘳𝘰𝘮 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘮𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘦𝘳 𝘣𝘳𝘢� ��𝘤𝘩.

Suddenly April's heart seemed to speed up, her hands were clammy and she could feel the beginnings of a fully-fledged blush, radiating out from her core, what was happening? An appreciative rumbling sound alerted April to her current predicament, by turning around to thank him, she had pressed her breasts up against his torso, giving him a clear view of the goods under her slinky dress. His strong face creased into an amused grin, making April take another deep breath, it should be illegal to look that good! She tried to catch a scent from the handsome man, but there was nothing; whatever he was, he had learned to mask his scent well by the smell of things.

Getting annoyed she opened her eyes puffing her cheeks out she tried to see what was stopping her. She saw Emiliano still sleeping inside his T-shirt and his face in her chest but now she wanted to turn around and his arms around her tiny waist were stopping her. She wiggled in his iron grip but his arms didn't budge even a bit. She again wiggled trying to come out of his grip without waking him up but his arms were not letting her go. She was getting annoyed by h now and her cheeks puffed out more annoyingly and she crossed her arms over her chest.

she decided, tossing them into the cart with a satisfied nod. As we wandered through the aisles, I found myself drifting toward the baby section. I stopped in front of a rack of tiny, miniature clothes. I reached out and picked up a small, white cotton onesie. It was so small it could fit in the palm of my hand. I held it against my bump, imagining the tiny body that would soon fill it.

He let me down and I glanced back for a second, my heart thumping wildly in my chest and slowing down the moment I saw it. The X-shaped cross. A Saint Andrew’s cross. My jaw dropped, eyes widening as I turned back to face Alaric. Oh, hell… Alaric saw the expression on my face and smirked darkly, his eyes swirling with mischief and lust. And then he reached for one of my hands and stretched it up, attaching it to one leather cuff. “Pick a safe word, doe.”

Blowing a stray curl out of her face, she crossed her arms and looked at herself in the mirror. Honestly, she had tried her darnedest to remain nondescript, and nothing that she saw in the reflection called particular attention to her. Her hair was dark and curly but easy to manage and the bun she’d barely twisted up didn’t yell, ‘Hey, I’m cute!’ The baggy jersey was a vintage acquisition from Daddy Daley and hung on her the same way a car cover draped over a bicycle, pretty much covering her jeans. Her boots were a little on the expensive side, but she didn’t think it was a point of focus. Neither was the diamond pendant hidden underneath the jersey.

Pete’s grip on me relaxed but he didn’t let go of me completely. “Sheesh man, I was just having a bit of fun.” he complained. Ricky grabbed my hand and pulled me away from Pete, wrapping an arm around my waist. “Go have some fun with one of the usual girls Pete. This one’s off limits.” With that, Ricky dragged me a few feet until we were out of Pete’s view. “Sorry about that. He’s a decent guy when he’s not drinking.” he apologised. “Are you alright?” I nodded, taking in his rather disturbing madman outfit, the buckles on the blood-stained sleeves of his straight jacket clinking together every time he moved.

He stepped to her, his finger jabbing at her face as he snarled, “You listen to me, you f*cking, promiscuous wh*re…” Barry stepped forward even as Bianca stopped him with a gesture. Enraged at what her saw as her baiting him, Nico Piccolo reacted. He grabbed her wrist—too fast, too rough. But Bianca didn’t flinch. Her eyes narrowed, sharp with adrenaline, as her free hand shot up like a snake. She caught one of his fingers—his index—and twisted. Not a wild flail, not brute strength, but a precise, practised move.

For three years, I used my family's mob ties and my own money to pave the way for Declan's crew. He was the boy I survived the streets with as a kid. But at this month's sit-down, his newly hired secretary, Roxy, tossed my casino ledgers and club records onto the table in front of all the guys. She accused me of skimming profits and slacking off. "These underground banks, these smuggling docks," she read the numbers out loud, her voice full of fake outrage. "Every time she bribes someone, she skims thousands of dollars! She's lining her own pockets." "I say the Boss strips her of her club manager title right now to save our cash flow." I glanced at Declan, the boss of the crew. He knew