Request On Bended Knee Novels & Stories

His eyes filled with anger and desperation, he didn't even look like he's sorry at all. "Just love me again, please." I planted a smirk on my face and tilt my head like a dog, surveying his expression. "Hades, it's not your style. Don't go around bending your knees in front of me while begging me to love you again," I said and stood up straight. How do you call this, was it that cliche romance I read that a man was on his knees while proposing a ring to his woman? I glanced at him and chuckled playfully. It's different, he's not proposing a ring...more like proposing his desperation to own what he wants claim.

I nod. "Fuck..." He cursed under his breath. "Teach me how to" He seems taken by my plead. "Are you sure you want to do this?" I nod. "Damn...." He muttered as he put off the showers. God my core is reacting to this thought. "Alright baby. You will have to go on your knees." I nod. I go down on my knees. My heart is pounding. His thing is in front of my face. I look up at him.

“Don’t you dare. I need them to win our fights.” It was time. The words I’d carried for months, worn smooth by how sure I was, came to my lips. “That’s why I need to ask you something. Again. The right way.” His playful look faded. He understood. I didn’t get down on one knee. That’s for asking a question. We were equals, standing together at the edge of everything we’d built. But I bowed my head. It was a sign of my deepest respect and love, from one wild heart to another.

"You think she'll forgive you just because you're on your knees? Take you back? Not a chance. Same as me — kneeling to ask her to be with me wouldn't guarantee a yes either. Using it as a guilt trip? Pathetic." Then he turned to me and started bowing his head to the floor in rapid succession, wheedling shamelessly between each one: "Please — be with me — I like you so much I can't stand it — I'm on my knees, I'm bowing, just say yes—" His forehead hit the floor again and again with solid thunks, utterly unbothered by the death glare from the former Alpha of Ashford Pack beside him. Cain could only watch. The two stab wounds in his back made it impossible to bend. All he could do was kneel th

I stilled, hearing those words. Was he proposing to me? My hands covered my mouth as I gasped in shock. He went on his knees and brought that red velvet box to my view. "I have never bent my knees for anyone, Kathrine Raynott, because mafia men only bend their knees on one occasion. It's when they visit the cemetery to meet their idols or parents to pay respect to them. But I'm bending my knees in front of you because I want you to know that as long as I am alive I will treat you with the respect and love that you deserve." I couldn't control the shivers rising in my body.

"Then you need to prove your sincerity to me." He looked at me, his eyes swimming with a complex, devastated emotion. "Kneel," he said. But it wasn't a command from a master to a servant. It was a request, laced with a bitter, agonizing vulnerability. "If you are willing to kneel... I'll believe that you truly want to continue this." I looked at him—really looked at him. And slowly, carefully, I began to bend my knees toward the floor. I could feel his eyes on me, burning with an intensity that made my skin flush hot. But at the very last moment, when my knees were mere inches from the hardwood, I stopped entirely.

I said, “you kneel because you choose to, not because your body remembers the posture.” He nodded. “I will not kneel to him.” “To anyone you don’t choose,” I said. “Even me.” He hesitated. “Even you?” “Especially me,” I said. “Or mercy becomes another leash.” He looked at me as if I had moved the moon closer to his face. “I will try,” he said. “That’s all I’ll ever ask,” I said. “And if you fail, try again more honest.” He let out a breath. It sounded like relief being taught to walk.

I knelt. The floor grated under my knees; the wood was cool through my robe. I bowed my head until my forehead kissed the planked floor and kept it there. The posture was total surrender—no pride, no posture left to hide behind—because this was not a bargaining of titles or lands. This was something small and brutal: the asking of a favor that might cost me everything.

, he added and came near me. “That day, I knelt in front of you for apologizing, and tonight…” saying this, he got on one knee for me. “I’m here on my one knee to ask you that please give me a chance so that I can spend my whole life to make to realize that I’m indeed sorry.”, he finished. I would be lying if I said that I didn’t stop breathing for a few minutes. ‘I’m bitch, and his words don’t affect me.’ ‘I’m bitch, and his words don’t affect me.’

Mabel assumed I was scared because I wasn't responding. She pulled a thick stack of dark green bills from her purse with a smug smile. "This is ten thousand dollars. Take a good look. Ten grand. That's probably a few months' worth of your salary. "All you have to do is get down on your knees, bark like a dog, and say you're my pet. This money will be yours. But if you refuse? Well… you might need it for your medical bills."