Pretty Little Thing Mga Nobela at Kwento

"Finish your breakfast." "There he is." The almost-smile vanished completely. I grinned into my orange juice. Progress. Tiny progress. But progress.

THIRD PERSON Pov The cabin was the quietest place the maid had been in months. She sat on the bed and looked around the room and felt the absence of footsteps in the corridor outside, the absence of Konstantin's voice somewhere in the house, the absence of the tension that came from living in a space where you were useful but not safe. The room was small. The furniture was plain. The cook knocked and came in with the tray. The smell of the soup reached her before the woman had fully set it down. It was warm, and savory. Chicken, rice, vegetables and juice, everything was set out neatly on the small table beside the bed.

“Did I just hear you moan my name, Simone?” I look at him, eyes heavy-lidded with desire. I’d just come undone thinking about him, of course I’d say his name. “Yes, Daddy…” I murmur, biting down hard on my lower lip as I let my knees fall apart, unashamed of the glistening moisture slicking my thighs. “Or should I say Father King? Or Professor King?” I let out a low breath, tracking the dark, dangerous shift in his eyes. “I prefer Daddy though, but I’ll call you whatever gets your hands on me.” ~~~~ Simone Grayson slept with a stranger one reckless night and discovered too late that he was someone off-limits. He turned out to be her professor and was supposedly owned by God.

It felt like something had been carved right out of her chest, leaving her hollow. Chloe had grown up around Lisa and Andy, and she'd absorbed years of the things they said about her father. It was only natural she'd come to see him with a child's inherited resentment. But now, she suddenly remembered something from before—after her birthday hearing had ended, Ted had shown up to make up for the birthday he'd missed. He'd worn a heavy strawberry-print bear costume and waited outside the Simpson house so they could go to the amusement park together. When she'd arrived, he'd pulled off the bear head, his hair plastered to his face with sweat, and wiped his dirty hands on his sleeve before he'd

“Little… Little princess…” “Call me Cutie Pie!” Aino said with a high and mighty tone. “There’s already a little princess in your household, that Minerva girl! She’s so ugly. When you say the words ‘little princess’ I’m reminded of an ugly girl like her, so I don’t want to be called Little Princess. Just call me Cutie Pie.”

The note attached makes my knees buckle ‘New life. New phone. No more hiding what belongs to us, little slut. Answer when we call.’ Oh god. Oh god. Next is a soft stuffed bunny, it looks innocent, but I know better than to fall for the deception, the bunny has a tiny collar that matches my necklace. Then the lingerie. Fuck. Red sheer crotchless panties, a bra that’s nothing but straps framing my tits, garters, and a babydoll so filthy it might as well be painted on.

The Shattered Afternoon “Mommy, I’m hungry…” Pretty’s small voice broke the silence of the vast Langford living room. She stood at the edge of the Persian rug, twisting her little fingers together, her dark curls falling into her eyes. Her sister, Beauty, sat on the floor, watching with wide eyes but saying nothing. Across the room, Chloe sat on the cream sofa, her legs crossed elegantly, a glass of wine balanced in her hand though it was barely noon. She didn’t even glance up from her phone.

Carly said, not smiling so much as looking confused. “Yeah, well, I was just tired of being so… you know… lame.” Beth said with a shrug. “My friends from Lockton stopped by. They’re totally awesome.” She pointed back at Dee Dee and Zoey who were chatting and not even paying the Barryville girls any attention at all. “They look like supermodels,” Amber, who was one of the nicer popular girls, said quietly. “And so do you.” “Oh, yeah? Thanks.” Beth made it sound like she already knew that and it wasn’t a big deal. “Well, I have a job to do.” She rolled her eyes. “See ya all downtown later.”

“It’s fine.” I’m still not satisfied. I feign a yawn and stretch my arms over my head, the cool air of the room teasing my exposed breasts. When I lower my arms, Shane is finally giving me his full attention. “You’re dressed like a slut, Lily. You leave the house looking like that and you’re not going to like what happens.” Desire thrills through my blood. “You don’t like it?” I turn around and lean against the counter, feeling my skirt ride up.

However, before leaving, I took the notebook with me. The next day, I hired a professional to help me open it. In that notebook, I finally uncovered the truth—and the identity of the person who had harmed me. It was Jerry. His real name was Tommy Wilkins. He also had a younger sister, Bernice Wilkins, who depended entirely on him. Bernice and Michael were practically childhood sweethearts. She had taken a job just to help cover his school fees. Michael was named campus heartthrob the moment he arrived. At the same time, he was a straight-A student. He appeared perfect in every way.