Post Malone Getting Flashed の小説・ストーリー

Mason threatened, pointing at him. “Do you want me to call Mom and Dad right now?” Manuel shot back, lifting his wrist to show his smartwatch as a bluff. Marcus’ eyes flicked to the watch; he knew it had a location feature. He grabbed Manuel’s wrist. “Take it off, or Mom’s gonna know exactly where you are.” They yanked the watch off and tossed it to the housekeeper, then the four of them set off in good spirits. The music festival was loud and lively. Loraine and Marcus moved with the band, singing and dancing, having the time of their lives.

It was five months down the line and I still felt the painful prick of betrayal on my skin, it made me stay awake at night, made me drown myself in alcohol whenever I get lonely, but ultimately; It made me want to kill Mirabelle. I haven't spoken to Dad yet about it but I'm sure he knew. After that night, Marcus and Mirabelle weren't hidden anymore, they flaunted their ill-gotten relationship in the media. “What deep thoughts do you have?” Lucy, my new friend from therapy sessions, walked into her sitting room. I was currently here for some N*****x and chill. “Just the same murderous thoughts.” I shrugged. “Have you tried to know where your father stands in this ?” Lucy asked, settling on a

They were plotting. As Anita disappeared into the restroom, the women exchanged sly, knowing glances. Their expressions betrayed their malicious intent. One by one, they stepped forward, following her inside. My wolf stirred within me, sensing the malice in their actions, and a low growl rumbled in my chest. I fast-forwarded the footage, my jaw tightening with every passing second.

I was like a puppy, eagerly wagging my tail at the sight of a fresh meal. "Will you marry me?" he asked, pulling out a tiny box with a glittering diamond ring that caught the club’s lights. "No, no, no," I muttered, staring at my phone screen, but my words were the exact opposite of what I had said in the video. "Yes, stranger, I’ll marry you," my intoxicated self slurred, and a cold chill ran down my spine. My eyes darted to my hand, and there it was—the same glittering diamond ring from the video on my index finger.

Instinctively, she took a step back, putting some distance between them. "I—I got it." Lucas smirked at her flustered reaction, the amusement in his eyes deepening. Reaching out, he ruffled her hair lightly. "Alright, I’ll stop teasing. Eat up." The golden afternoon sunlight filtered through the floor-to-ceiling windows, casting dappled shadows across the floor. Later that day, Lucas’ sleek black Maybach pulled up in front of Walton Corporation’s headquarters, the car’s air conditioning doing little to counter the lingering summer heat outside.

The morning after the gala broke over the city in a haze of golden light and chaos. The Blackwell mansion was unusually lively for such an early hour. Phones buzzed nonstop, the staff moved briskly through the hallways, and the housekeeper had turned on the TV in the sitting room, unable to resist the unfolding media frenzy. Every channel was playing the same thing — the video of Adrian Blackwell publicly exposing Damien Holt’s corruption at the Luminara Hotel. Elena stood by the kitchen island in her silk robe, coffee cup in hand, as the screen replayed the footage for the tenth time that morning.

He works me through it, letting me ride his fingers until I'm so sensitive I have to grab his wrist to make him stop. "Good," he murmurs, pressing a kiss to my damp temple. "That was so fucking hot." I'm still trembling when the velvet curtain rips back. The flashing strobe lights from the stairwell spill into the booth, harsh and blinding. I flinch, my heart slamming into my throat. Malakai is standing there. Vane is behind him, looking exhausted. Malakai's knuckles are fresh with blood, still dripping, and his white shirt is splattered with red. His chest is heaving, muscles straining against the fabric, and there's something wild in his eyes that makes my stomach drop.

No one could calculate the time for his mood swings when they came and went. "Screw it. How can I f*cking calm down! How did they get their hands on it when it was already eradicated from the public eye? Me and seduced by that fake little lass who had that thirsty gold digger look on her caked-up face? How worse do they think of my taste, huh!? I have class." "Shhh... Malcolm.. keep it down. Some people can make videos of your outburst and post it." He was hearing no words at this point. All he saw was red.

But as soon as I got hold on myself, I freed myself from his capture. "Can I get a glass of water?" I told him, looking directly into his eyes. He was confused at first, because he didn't expect this reaction from me. I guess he was expecting me to slap him or shout at him, but I couldn't help, I badly needed water. Anyhow he finally decided to give me what I have asked for. He went towards the table, picked up a glass of water from there and extended it for me to take. I quietly took it from him and brought it closer to my lips, when suddenly someone splashed water on Noah, and by someone I mean myself. Yes I threw the entire water on his face. What the hell does this man think of himself?