Poems Or Short Stories Novels & Stories

Lila’s POV I never expected my life to change in a dark parking garage under a fancy hotel. My name is Lila. Twenty-six years old. I worked as a bartender at one of the busiest rooftop bars in downtown Los Angeles. The tips were good, but the hours were long and the men who hit on me were usually drunk and handsy. I kept my head down, did my job, and dreamed about saving enough to open my own small café someday. That night the bar hosted a private event for some big tech conference. The place was packed with rich guys in expensive suits. I poured drinks fast, smiled when I had to, and tried to ignore the way some of them stared at my tight black uniform top and short skirt.

BEFORE YOU READ Nobody is coming to save you. Themes: Forced Proximity, Snowed In, Size Difference, Breeding Kink. This story features a possessive, reclusive hero who hasn't seen a woman in years. Expect primal play, rough sex, and intense possessiveness. (***) Gabrielle

Some stories started with hate. This one ended with everything.

So time went by, until one day I went to a meeting of friends, we all got together to go to a literature expo, this was very special, because we had a book club, in which we met every week to read a book, depending on the theme we were touching. So we were very interested in this expo, it was going to last three days and it was from eight in the morning to two in the afternoon, so we had breakfast and lunch, after lunch we went out and the last day started at twelve o'clock, we had lunch and dinner. To be continued.

“I have a book I think you might enjoy." "What is it about?" I asked him curiously. "Most servants can't read. I usually read for them." "It's a book of short stories. Most are fairy tales- Half-fish people want to be full people. A princess trying to beat her pre-destined fate. Children who are abandoned in the woods try to find their way home. There are several stories within the book." "Sounds interesting," I replied, watching Bart rejoin us. I got up quickly to help him with the trays.

“It was the first time I saw dad cry, of course I remember every single word.” “I remember that day,” Martha said. “You came home that evening and read out a poem you had written for him. It was the first time you read out anything you had written. Before you would spend hours and hours in your room writing but you never allowed us to see what you were writing. You made your dad cry that day….” The memory itself was enough to bring tears to the two women. “Look mum!” Natasha pointed in the distance. “There’s dad’s car!”

“She’s the last person on my mind when I sleep and my first thought when I wake up. I miss her when I eat, study, sleep. I feel like crying loudly when I go into your bedroom and I see her empty space.” “Honey, but I’m trying my best to fulfill all your requirements. You know you’re my eldest daughter and I love you more than anyone” My dads eyes filled with tears as he spoke to me. “This huge mansion full of furniture and a 100 servants is still empty without mom. These fancy dresses and money can’t replace my mother.” I cried. “There’s no one to look after Anna and Zac. Anna is just 15 and Zac is 10. They need a mother. I totally agree that you’re trying your best and you love me the most

Rain lashed the campus streets like it was trying to drown the whole damn university that Thursday evening, turning sidewalks into rivers while I sprinted from Brew Haven toward the Literature building with my backpack banging against my spine, the white café uniform shirt soaked. completely through so it molded to my chest like a second skin, black lace bra and hardened nipples visible to anyone who cared to look because twenty-one years old and juggling barista shifts with night classes meant sacrifices like running late through storms without a jacket.

I could feel a glove covering them, and I immediately understood that I was dealing with a professional. “Do you have any last words, doll?” His voice was soft, but the meaning behind his speech was deadly. "Any last wishes?" Did I? I never thought that one day someone would ask me about my last words, otherwise I would’ve prepared. I would’ve said something powerful like “I’ll see you in hell,” or “I’m going to haunt you in the afterlife.” But all my brain could think of was the depressive thought that I would never experience life properly. I’d never live through a romance book kind of love. I’d never find my man, my soulmate. I’d never even have sex.

Chapter 2 “Okay, here’s the idea,” I continue, my throat dry so I grab my beer for a quick sip, the cool liquid doing nothing to calm the fire starting low in my belly. “We grab a jar or a bowl, whatever’s around, and everyone writes down dares on slips of paper. Dirty ones, the stuff we’d never admit out loud normally. Then we draw one at a time, and whoever pulls it has to do it. We set a timer if needed, but the point is to let go, see where it takes us.”