Pocket Princesses Disney Romane & Geschichten

When he looked in through the window, he was astounded to see her topless and braless. She was standing with her back to him, eliciting wild desires in him. He took his handkerchief from his pocket and crept into her room. He blindfolded her with his hankie before dragging her towards the bed. Her heartbeat accelerated. She could feel that he was her man. She asked, "is it you, baby?" He pushed her onto the bed and gazed at her perfect slender body with profound desires in his eyes. He hovered her and tied her wrists with his tie to the headboard. *** She could never stop her heart from beating for him since the day she saw him despite knowing that he would never retaliate to her feelings as for him she was only his best friend's sister. She was so innocent and pure like holy water, and he was messed up and a monster whom anybody definitely wouldn't like to come across. She had never dated anyone in her entire life because, for her, the love of her life was everything. On the other hand, he never believed in all this. For him, "love" didn't exist; it was all about physical needs. His mere presence was enough to relieve her pain; he was like oxygen to her, while on the other hand, he didn't even acknowledge her presence. Her love was so pure and selfless that it could make anyone fall for it because it's not easy to love someone who is forbidden. But will he ever witness her love? Will he ever love her as purely as she loves him? Will her one-sided love ever be fulfilled? If you want to know, then follow the journey of a tempting biker and his secret admirer.

When we're playing cards during the holidays, my cousin, Owen Thompson, suddenly calls it boring and tells us that he wants to make a big gamble. Then, he tosses his BMW keys onto the table and asks if we're bold enough to follow up with our own bets. I know that Owen is just trying to flaunt the fact that he's bought himself a BMW. Everyone is stunned by his antics. They quickly say, "This is just a game. We're not going to bet anything else." After that, they start complimenting how amazing Owen is to be able to own a BMW at such a young age. I, on the other hand, hesitate to do so. After all, my trump cards are a set of Ks. Having gotten his ego boosted by the compliments, Owen is about to flush the deck when I put my car keys belonging to a cheaper, rundown car. Then, I mumble, "I'm going to follow up with a bet of my own." Everyone falls silent at my statement. They just stare at me in disbelief, whereas Owen widens his eyes out of shock. Almost immediately, things grow heated between us. The moment both of us place our car keys onto the betting table, our feeble relationship as cousins is quick to vanish. But I don't regret my decision. Owen is the one who has decided to bet his BMW, after all. Since he's capable of being this ruthless toward his own relatives, I might as well not give a damn about his feelings at all. Owen lets out a cold chuckle before saying, "How much do you have in that pocket of yours, huh? You really think you can scare me, chump? I have a BMW, for crying out loud! You should gather more money first before placing your bet! Don't go around scamming others with just a shitty car!"

I could see the countdown above a person’s head when they had already decided to leave their partner. The day my father’s countdown hit zero, he slapped a lawyer’s letter on the breakfast table and walked out on my mother and me. The day my best friend’s countdown hit zero, she finally threw her parasite of a boyfriend out of her apartment and changed the locks before sunset. That was why I’d always been terrified of seeing a countdown above my fiancé, Lucian Bellandi. Luckily, for seven years by his side, the space above his head had stayed clean. Lucian was the youngest Don the Bellandi family had ever seen. He owned the docks, the casinos, and half the South Side’s dirty money, yet he saved every soft part of himself for me. Until last month, when he picked me up after a family auction. I looked up and saw blood-red numbers stabbing into my eyes. [702 days, 14 hours, 22 minutes.] Less than two years. My heart tightened like a cold hand had closed around it. I started searching for an answer like a woman losing her mind. Had I done something wrong? Then, during a blizzard by the lake, we ran into Mia Crane at the back entrance of the Bellandi Hotel. Lucian had just brought her into his charity foundation as a new assistant. Snow clung to her hair and lashes. She was shivering from head to toe, but her smile was bright and painfully innocent. Lucian pulled a black silk handkerchief from his breast pocket and handed it to her. His face was calm. There was nothing openly improper in the gesture. But in that exact second, the countdown above his head jumped. [327 days, 4 hours, 47 minutes.] More than three hundred days, gone. And I knew I had found the reason.

My future mother-in-law, Diane Grant, loved setting rules. On the day I proposed, she sat there with that smug, superior look and told me if I wanted to marry her daughter, Olivia Grant, I had to pass her so-called "son-in-law training", which was three months working as a food delivery driver. She said she wanted to test whether I could handle hardship. For my fiancee's sake, I kept my identity hidden. I was the heir to one of the most powerful families in Crestfall City, and I agreed without hesitation. For three months, I shed every trace of privilege. I worked from dawn to night, delivering orders across the city. My parents didn’t understand. My friends disapproved. Mrs. Grant watched me like a hawk, picking me apart every single day. "Three minutes late? That’s a $3,000 penalty. The wedding shall be delayed by a month!" "Wrong unit delivery, bad review? $8,000 penalty. You don’t get to see Olivia this week!" Even then, I never gave up. Until the final day. I received an urgent order with a massive tip. The note was in bold: "Lifesaving medication. Immediate delivery." I sped through the streets, pushing myself to the limit. Just as I was about to enter the residential compound, Mrs. Grant stepped in front of me, blocking my way, her face full of disdain. Her voice shot up sharply. "The wedding gift goes up to $200,000. Not a cent less." I looked at her look of absolute certainty and suddenly laughed. My finger slid across the screen. The recipient of that urgent order was her precious son, Christopher Grant. I slowly put away the unlimited card in my pocket, along with the check I had prepared for a million-dollar wedding gift. Originally, I had planned to reveal my identity that day to give her the surprise of a lifetime. It seemed there was no need.

"Holy crap, you are so boring!" He pushed her against the wall, placing his hands on either side of her and staring into her eyes in frustration. He is shirtless and has flat abs touching her body, which is giving her goosebumps. "I don't know how to kiss." She looked at the man, pouting her lips. He scoffed at her boring reply. "Teach me how to kiss." She mumbled, licking her lips, and grabbed his attention. He looked down at her and stroked his hair with his fingers, pulling her close by her waist. "Stand on my toes." He smirked, sending chills down her spine. She climbed over, placing both feet on his toes. "Look into my eyes." He grabbed her chin and make her look into his eyes. She looked into his green-pricing eyes, rolling her fingers on his trimmed beard. "Concentrate on my lips." He synced, licking his lips. Her heart skipped a beat as he pressed her thin lips between his thumbs. And she moaned in response, rolling her eyes at his lips. "Seal your lips on mine and chew it up like an ice cream." He explained the first step, bending his head to seal her lips. "Aaaachuuuuu!!" She sneezed loudly before he sealed her lips. "ANGELINA." He yelled at the top of his lungs. "I’m sorry, hubby." Angelina closed her eyes, covering them with both hands. Angelina is a twenty-year-old college student with lots of goals in life, but she doesn't have parents to give her pocket money and support her financially. But one day, she married a billionaire and then her tragic life turned into a romantic one. Now the question is - how will Angelina satisfy her husband and his desires when she has only experienced struggles in her past life?

"Ms. Smith, a complaint has been filed with HR. You have been accused of misusing your personal vehicle for unauthorized commercial activity." The administrative manager dropped a printed copy of the so-called joint complaint onto the desk, a faint, knowing smile on her lips. The company had decided to issue me a fine, placed a formal warning on my record, and revoked my performance bonus for this quarter. I stared at the handwriting on the complaint, then let out a short, incredulous laugh. I recognized it instantly. It was Selena Rogers. The same coworker who had been hitching rides with me to and from work every day for the past three years. It was all because of last night's storm. She had insisted I take a long detour to drive her to the mall so she could pick up her boyfriend, and I had said no. Then, in the break room, Selena's voice carried loud and clear. "Jennifer, I didn't have a choice. "We have to keep work and personal matters separate. The transportation stipend from the company isn't for you to make extra money." Around us, coworkers glanced over, whispering and pointing, as if they had completely forgotten how eager they once were to ask for a ride home. I took a slow breath. "Fine. I accept the company's decision." Then I pulled out my phone and made a call. "Mr. Wallace, I won't be renewing the lease on those two vans. "Yes. The ones that have been picking up and dropping off the admin and sales teams every day, free of charge." For three years, I had been the easygoing one, paying out of my own pocket every month to lease those vehicles so my coworkers could treat it as a perk. If that was now considered unauthorized business activity, then from this day on, everyone could figure out their own way to get to work.

In the seventh year of singing on the streets for a living, I finally save enough money for my boyfriend, Charlie Bond, to pay for our wedding and marry me. Late at night, a young woman suddenly walks up to me and requests a song just as I'm about to pack up. She says, "I'm in a bad mood. Just sing a couple of songs for me." When she notices my disabled leg, she transfers 5,000 dollars to me right away. She adds, "I'm sorry for bothering you when it's already so late. I'm just really upset. Please take pity on me and keep me company for a while." Looking at the payment notification, I nod. With this money, Charlie won't have to struggle so much when it comes to paying rent. He won't need to deliver food in the middle of rainstorms just to make ends meet. The young woman begins pouring her heart out to me. "My husband and I have been married for five years. Today, I found out that I'm pregnant. I wanted to share the good news with him, but then I found a diamond ring in his pocket! "No matter how much I question him, he refuses to say anything. I got so angry at him that I ran out of my home. Do you think he's cheating on me?" I hesitate and am just about to comfort her when her phone suddenly rings. A man's voice comes through the speaker. It sounds helpless yet affectionate. He says, "You're so silly. Tomorrow is Valentine's Day. The ring is a custom-made gift for you. I wanted it to be a surprise, but you found it before I could give it to you. Where are you? I'll come pick you up." The moment I hear that familiar voice, a chill runs down my spine. The name displayed on her phone is the exact same name as my boyfriend's—Charlie Bond.

In the third year of Ariel Slater's remarriage with Remi Callahan, she realizes that she's pregnant with his baby. As his wife, she does her utmost best to avoid getting into fights with him. Whenever Remi comes home late, Ariel no longer welcomes him home at the door. When Remi gets absolutely wasted at his business meetings, all Ariel does is command the household staff to prepare a hangover tonic for him. Remi is very busy with work, so it's rare for him to come home. Even so, Ariel doesn't use the landline in the family compound to call him. When she's eight months pregnant, Ariel discovers a tube of ointment in Remi's coat that's not hers. But she merely puts it back in his pocket without saying a word. One day, when Ariel visits the maternity hospital next to the family compound for a prenatal check-up, she comes across an incident that humiliates her to no end. Two nurses happen to walk out of a ward at that time. As they walk down the corridor, they chat among themselves. "Mr. Callahan cares about Ms. Reed a lot. The moment she gives birth to a son, he's quick to book her the best single-person ward in this hospital." "I heard that Ms. Reed is the widow of Mr. Callahan's dead mentor. He takes good care of Ms. Reed, that's for sure. Not only does he keep her company in the day, but he also refuses to go home at night. He really is a caring man." "But I heard that Mr. Callahan's wife is about to give birth. I wonder what will happen if she finds out about Mr. Callahan's antics…" Even though the nurses keep their voices low, Ariel still hears every word as clear as day. As she stares at Remi, who's speaking with his colleague, Ella Reed, while cradling her newborn, she feels her eyes reddening against her will. She decides to file for a divorce from him right there and then. This time, she will never remarry him, no matter what.

When I was seven years old, my younger brother went into anaphylactic shock after sneaking a handful of peanuts. Outside the emergency room, my mother slammed my head against the wall over and over, her face twisted with rage. "If you had been watching him like you were supposed to be, this never would have happened! You should be the one with a ruptured stomach, not him!" After that, whenever my brother so much as caught a cold, my mother forced me to eat spoiled leftovers as punishment. I once prepared an elaborate feast. She flipped the entire table and made me crawl on the floor to lick it clean. When I said I wanted to study culinary arts, she poured hot oil over my hands. My father wanted to send me to vocational school to learn a trade, but my mother clutched my brother to her chest and wailed. "She destroyed her brother's health! She owes him a lifetime of service!" When I was fifteen, my brother's gluttony cost my father an important business deal. I took the blame without even being asked, and the furious client forced me to drink more than half a gallon of hard liquor. By the time I was sent home with a bleeding stomach, my father had already scolded my brother. My mother took out her anger on me instead, slapping me so hard my ears rang and my vision went dark at the edges. "You useless thing! You should’ve choked to death at that table! I get sick just looking at you!" I coughed up black blood. From my pocket, I pulled out a piece of sour candy that had gone soft and sticky. It was the only treat my mother had ever given me with a smile, back before my brother's allergic reaction. I put the candy in my mouth and swallowed it down with the taste of stomach acid. The candy was so sour it made my throat burn. Whatever came next, I just hoped I would not have to be my family’s garbage disposal again.

When Dexter Welch, a security guard who works in the residential area, sees me driving my pink Toyota Corolla everywhere, he's very certain that I'm a sugar baby who's being backed by her own sugar daddy. On the first day, I see one word getting carved into the car hood. It says "bitch". I merely give the hood a wipedown without uttering a word. Later on, I swap out the current SD card of my dashcam to an SD card that has a 512 GB memory. On the second day, my car windows get smashed in. When I go over to the property management office to check the security footage, the front desk agent tells me that the security camera overseeing my car "happens" to be broken. Dexter leans against the desk with a grin on his face. "If that car of yours is ruined, then so be it. Tell your sugar daddy to buy you another one." I crouch down and take a picture of the damage. Then, I save it into a folder called "evidence" in my phone. On the third day, two of my tires have gone flat. When I bend down to pick up a spare tire, Dexter hugs me from behind all of a sudden. He murmurs into my ear, "What's so good about sleeping with an old codger? Why don't you date me instead? I'm young and strong—" That's when I grab a wrench and smash it right into his arm. As Dexter nurses his injured arm, he glares at me. "How dare you lay a finger on me! Go ahead and lodge a report, then! My uncle's the property manager here! What can you do about me, hmm?" I silently note down Dexter's work ID without saying anything. On the fourth day, I drive another pink car back to the apartment. As soon as Dexter notices the flash of pink in its usual parking slot, he smiles as he exits the guardhouse. Then, he pulls out a key from his pocket and scratches my car with all his strength. An older gentleman who happens to be walking his dog nearby freezes in his tracks. He sounds so startled that his voice actually cracks. "Have you gone nuts? Do you know the model of the car you've just scratched? That's a top-tier Rolls-Royce!"