Novelas y relatos de Rent

"Thank you for your hospitality." "No need to be so formal. We are neighbors, which makes us like family. You and Eli will be staying in our private guest house in the backyard of the pack house. That way, you will have more privacy. As newly mated wolves, I understand how much privacy you two will need. Riley blushed again at that. She knew what the Luna was implying, and she was excited about what they could get up to. Maybe he would finally mark her. That's got her aroused at the thought.

“Who the fuck are you? How did you get in?” “I’ve been here longer than the lease.” He stood in one fluid motion. The air around him felt warmer, charged, like the moment before lightning. “Name’s Riven. This apartment is mine in ways your paperwork will never cover. You’re the first tenant in twelve years who can actually sustain me. The others were… insufficient.” “Get out.”

“Lower back. Crescent moon with vines. I have the reference.” His eyes flicked over the image, then back to me, amusement fading into something sharper. “Of course you do. Trying so hard to be one of the cool kids now that you’re at college, I'm guessing” He stood up, towering over me. “Fine. Come to the back. But if you cry or bitch even once, I stop and you pay full price anyway.” The private room was dim, sterile, and intimate. Black walls, strong lighting over the adjustable chair, the faint smell of antiseptic and ink. My heart hammered as I set my bag down.

The car didn’t move, neither did the shadow behind the wheel. I rested on the couch and scrolled through my phone, still searching for job openings. A notification from the landlord popped up on my screen that my rent was two months behind. Another alert followed from my insurance company that the insurance hadn't been paid, and my car would be repossessed in the course of the week. I got up to fetch some water to calm my nerves. When I turned on the tap, nothing came out. Brian walked in just then, his tool box clanking against the floor.

She nodded miserably, clutching her phone like it was a live grenade that might explode at any moment. I looked down at the items I'd picked up from the floor—the coupons and the rent receipt. I held up the receipt, examining it with interest, turning it over in my hands. "What's this?" I asked, though I could read it perfectly well. The font was large enough, the details clear. "Rent payment for unit 3B, 847 Independent Layout Street." Her face went from pale to absolutely white. Ghostly. "That's... that's private." "Not anymore." I took a photo of the receipt with my phone, making sure to capture the full address, the unit num

He believes me… or at least pretends to. “What’s it about? Can it wait until tomorrow? I have to leave urgently.” “I’m sorry, sir, but if you accept, the contract will be sent tonight for review, and tomorrow their representative will arrive.” Sam swallows hard. It’s an irresistible deal. “Tesla wants to increase its revenue and proposes the Tesla Rangers service: at-home assistance included with purchase, with a 70% profit share for you.” “Don’t worry, Sam. I’ll take her,” Mark interrupts, eyes shining as if a thousand stars had settled in his gaze.

Enjoy, darling. Yesterday, after the voicemail, I'd made one call that I had never expected to make. "Rhea Linden," Kimberly Vale had purred. "I wondered when I'd hear from you. You owe me for that seating chart." "I owe you nothing. But I'm curious whether Marlowe Ventures LLC owns any real estate." A silence, then a laugh. "Give me twenty minutes." It took fifteen. Six-bedroom colonial. Round Hill Road, Greenwich. Leased to Marlowe, thirty days, paid in advance, marketed as a "private wellness residence." Gate, nurse on staff, no visitors. Kimberly's last line: Wear sunglasses. And lie in Spanish.

It's from Monika. *How is your little peanut doing?* She texts. This little whore did not! ... (to be continued)

She left the condoms on the island and shuffled blindly into her bedroom, cursing lowly when she stubbed her toe against an table in the hallway. Once inside, she stripped and slid nude into her cold sheets, pulling her laptop from the bedside table and powering it up. She sighed contently as she typed in an all too familiar name into her search engine and waited for the results to pop up. Great, there were more news articles she thought absently She clicked on the top result and smiled when a chisled face filled her screen. It was a interview article on Kain Griffin, the co-owner of the most popular private security company in the state. The article was done by one Miss Wendy Richer for The

𝙰𝚌𝚎 𝙰𝚕𝚊𝚜𝚝𝚊𝚛 7 years old. The brown-haired boy stood there looking at the woman helping her kids choose the toys they wanted. Ace didn't get help from her, he's shy, anxious that she's going to return the ten dollars teddy bear that he brought. His soft small hand clenched the ear of the brown teddy bear, he pouted and with a shaking body, he approached his mother.