Read Romance Free の小説・ストーリー

It was as if, unlike any other room, this one was special. Elena approached the man and sat across his legs, putting one of her arms around his shoulders. "Gustave Flaubert" he replied. "French romance" the incredulity in the woman's tone was clear. She couldn't believe someone like Aaron was interested in romance. "All French works have a romantic content," he explained, shrugging. Elena smiled, and then Aaron was sure that smile could light up the whole city. The closeness between them was frightening for both of them, and they were afraid of what they would feel when they had to pull away.

I breathed, hanging my head low. "Your mate will love you even if you look like a mad woman. You are like a diamond covered in dirt. Remember how charming you were. Nothing changed. That beauty is still there, I swear!" Sienna, my wolf, soothed, and I felt like she sparked a light inside me. "Really?" I beamed. "Oh, yes, baby girl. Well, we might not even meet any mate out there, but the most important thing is to have a taste of freedom!" She squealed, and I laughed happily.

We spent that final minute and kissed each other, not caring about whoever will see us. Because a kiss blown is a kiss wasted. The only real kiss is a kiss that is tasted. ~ END ~

“I don’t know. Isn’t he your boyfriend?” “Xavier isn’t my boyfriend.” “Pardon me. About to be your boyfriend.” “Not that either.” “Seriously, Noah,” Rina chimed in, finally tucking her phone away. “We’ve been friends for three years now and you don’t know that Lucas is Mr. Commitment-Phobe.” “I’m not a commitment-phobe. I’m just not—” “Interested in relationships. Yeah. Heard that before.” I scowled at her. She was acting entirely too cocky for my liking.

Nick screamed, he looked spent and wasted. As he carefully dropped her on the tiled floor, he looked at her and couldn’t even speak a word. He wished he could at least say a word of appreciation or something good but felt too weak to move his lips. “That was crazy, you know?” Juliet said, “It is in fact my best fuck ever! You really got me.” While she was still a bit concerned about his reactions at the last class, she felt it was unimportant asking. With the crazy bond they just shared, Juliet was a hundred and one percent sure that things would change.

“You’d like to read my filth as well as experience it?” She nodded, her face like a dirty little angel. “Maybe you could do me a scene a day? A reward for my college attendance.” “Like a gold star? Good day at college, sweetheart, well done you. Here. Have an obscene chapter I wrote about you.” “Yeah. That would be amazing.” She was serious. She was genuinely serious. “I love reading your stuff,” she said. “And I love romance. I love it all. What a hybrid.”

Rena looked at Romeo and said, "But I'm not perfect. My wolf disappeared for no apparent reason. I'm not a real werewolf, Romeo." 'Yes, because you have risked everything for me!' screamed Romeo in his heart. "I don't care. I love you from first sight." Romeo is determined to bring Rena to the altar and propose to her quickly. It doesn't matter if Bennedict forbids it. "Werewolf, human, or demon, even I will still love you. You're my only woman, Honey." Romeo kissed the top of Rena's head. He was praying for a good relationship between the two of them.

Roman’s tone turns steadily cold as he adds, “Fen would more likely hunt him down now, and not in the romantic way.” My eyes light up as I remember, “My book! You saw that in one of my books didn’t you?” The Alpha of the Ironclaw pack reading a romance novel would be about as ludicrous as anything else to anyone else, but I’m his mate, his wife, he isn’t afraid to be silly around me, and as we burst out of the main doors Roman nods. I burst into the kind of spurting giggles that would have expelled water from my mouth if there was any and Roman grins cheekily, still speaking through the mate bond as he says, “I wanted to see if those men you read of have anything on me.”

“It sounds… like it should be yours, only yours. ‘Mon amour.’ My love.” I blushed, my heart pounding in my chest. “You know I don’t speak French.” He pressed a soft kiss to my forehead. “Then I will teach you… one kiss at a time.” I laughed, a trembling, delicate sound. He pulled me into his arms, holding me so close I could feel the strength of his desire, the depth of his longing that he had never released. His fingers drifted over my skin, tracing patterns I had never known I knew. Every caress was a poem. Every caress was a confession.