Red Devil Dress Novels & Stories

I do not share what I have branded. I felt a cold sweat break out across my neck. This wasn't a romance. This was an excavation. He wanted to strip away every layer of the girl I had been until there was nothing left but the "beast" he saw hidden underneath. I reached for the box Victoria had left. Inside, nestled in tissue paper, was a dress. It was silk, the color of a bruised plum, and entirely backless. There was no lace, no frills. It was a garment designed for easy access and total exposure. Beneath it lay a collar—a thin, elegant band of black leather with a discreet silver buckle.

“Wear what I left on your bed.” Then he was gone and I exhaled deeply. Going to the room, I found the dress. It was tossed in the floor unceremoniously making me groan. It was a deep red silk dress. A slit in the thigh and sleeveless with a dangerous low back. I stared at the dress on horror as if huge black spiders just crawled out of it. I can't.. I can't wear this! I held it up, frowning. “This is a trap.” But still... I wore it for Madden. The dress was stunning, yes—but a complete nightmare to zip up.

Endless vases house bouquets that threaten to burst from their holds, pollen tickling my nose as we walk by. Dev's eyes have never been wider. He doesn't come from wealth either, andwhile I find this confronting, he is truly enthralled. He's even chosen his most expensive outfit, made from fabrics I pillaged from my wealthy clients who didn't want them any longer. He's smoothed his hair back, and shaved his stubble clean off. He isn't messing around. He has come to make an impression. He made me the dress I wear. It's a beautiful shade of deep blue with silken skirts and long sleeves, as per my request. He honours my preference for modesty in the outfits he creates, which pleases me greatly.

Wolves collided with the shadows of those wings, thrown across the room as blood and instant death erupted. Vivica froze, eyes wide, her chest rising as she watched the devil himself descend upon them. The dark blue aura surrounding him pressed against her burning skin, sending a thrill along her heated skin, and desire, through her. All the rumors about him turned out to be true. He was the Devil. The real Devil. Finn stepped forward deliberately, each movement slow, lethal, deliberate. He stopped just in front of her, the room now deathly silent except for the beat of her pulsing heat.

Romeo's deep voice pulls at my attention, and I don't restrain my eyes from searching for him. The way my heart stirs excitedly as I behold his gorgeous face can't even be overemphasized, and soon enough, the boredom is long forgotten for another while. He is spotting dark blue pants paired with a white dress shirt. Two or three of his upper buttons are subtly popped open to give a little peek of the dragon tattoo that crawls up his chest and disappears behind his neck. His onyx hair is polished and styled into a perfect tousle, jaws in a sharp line, while his full lips shimmer under the gentle ray of the blue light from his iMac. It takes everything not to slither over the long table right

But this is an experience she doesn't want to be without. With trembling hands, she undoes button after button in her dress. She pulls it slowly over her shoulders and lets it fall into tall grass. She is standing in her underwear: a long slip dress over high knee socks and a slightly worn white cotton corset. The slip dress leaves nothing for the imagination as the thin silky fabric clings to her round breasts in the light breeze. Cain looks at her curvy body and his dark eyes glisten. She swallows and pulls the strings that hold the corset together, and letting it fall down on the grass. She can see how Cain starts twitching where he sits.

“Do you know what you are wearing?” I glanced down at my dress and said, “A dress?” He let out a small chuckle before replying, “Not just any dress.” He spun me around before continuing, “the dress is called The black Widow, designed by Marcello De Luca in 1965. The famous actress Vivienne Rosehart wore it in 1965, the night she walked into a gala full of men who wanted to ruin her… but instead she left with every single one of them begging at her feet.”

Chapter 6: The Kiss That Broke The Devil Lucian Devlin stood in the marble-tiled hallway, his silhouette commanding beneath the golden chandelier’s glow. He was carved from perfection, tall and devastating in a tailored black suit that clung to his broad shoulders and tapered waist like it had been stitched directly onto his body. Crisp white shirt, black tie, polished leather shoes. Immaculate. Effortless. Dangerous.

“Change quickly, and then sit down. I’ll get the supplies.” I took the dress from Bell’s hands, my fingers brushing against the smooth fabric. As I unfolded it, a sense of dread settled over me. The dress was a deep red, satin, and sleek, but it was far more revealing than anything I had ever worn. The neckline dipped low, exposing more cleavage than I was comfortable with, and the hemline was high, stopping just above my knee, leaving most of my thighs bare.

she asked, taking another dress from the wardrobe. Dylan looked the dress up and down and the dress was red with gold accents and long sleeves. "This one looks good… I like this dress." "Then come to dress up…" said Lizha, walking towards Dylan. Dylan turned away from the window and went to Lizha. Lizha opened the dress and handed the garment to Dylan. Dylan received the dress and was putting on the garment. "Years and Years of wearing dresses and you still don't know how to wear this properly..." Lizha replied, watching Dylan put the dress on anyway.