Scarlet Desire Mga Nobela at Kwento

Whenever someone brought me one of her belongings, and I smelled her sweet honey scent, he would howl forlornly over his lost mate, and my chest would ache like someone had their foot on sternum. Whatever, he would get over it. We would get over it. But that didn’t mean I was going to sit back and let Sarah fuck around with other men. What gave her the balls to think she could just move on with her life? “He put his hands on me!” Scarlet screeched. “He held me by the neck!” I rubbed my temples. Scarlet was undoubtedly the most beautiful woman in the pack, but her theatrics were tiresome, and when she complained it made my head throb. I looked at her neck. She looked fine to me.

“Who told you that?” Rose’s eyes flashed, dark and stormy. She took a step closer, voice shaking with anger. “Isn’t that the type of things you like? But you’ve never done any of it with me.” Her hands clenched at her sides. “What—you think I’m too innocent? You think I can’t fulfill those desires?” “What the fuck, Rose—no.” I stepped forward, reaching for her, but she jerked back like my hands were fire. She shook her head hard, curls bouncing. “Scarlett told me everything.” She made air quotes with her fingers, voice dripping with sarcasm. “‘Dark desires.’ She said you need a real woman for them. But apparently I can’t handle it.”

I voiced out as I closed my eyes and let the fantasy take over me. “I have always wanted to bend her over for months and to claim that young body right here on this very couch.” My imagination goes wild while I grab her by the waist as she stands in front of me, pulling her down onto my lap. “You are so sexy Anna.” I groan just thinking of her. Her skirt rides up exposing her smooth thighs and the lacey edge of her panties. “Professor,” Anna whispers, but there’s no fear in her voice— only hunger. I don’t waste time with words while my fingers hook into her panties and yank them down.

SCAR'S POV. Red. Then it's black. Who am I? Who am I? What am I? Kill. Kill her. No....stop it stop talking to me. Moonlight? Where are you? It's like loosing control. The darkness slowly evolving. No... stop. Stop it. Who are you Scarlet...? Control. Everything. Control. Scarlet is Scarlet. (Authors mid-note: it's kinda confusing I know. Bit that's the whole deal. To be confused ;) )

He agreed. ******************************************************** After scarlet has successfully deleted all the files, she went to the living room turned on Dennis,: MEdia player, Ed Sherman was playing, tho scarlet don't like this song, She sang along dancing like it was her last day on earth. "Fuck I miss music!!!" She screamed already immersed in the song. The door burst open without scarlet knowing until the music suddenly went off. She turned to see an Angry Lady cladded in a purple gown with extreme makeup, Sonia.

I didn't want her to feel bad when she found out I couldn't get hard for her. " I have work; I just came to see you," I said, and her face dropped. I kissed her and left. I had nothing to do, so I returned to the apartment. Scarlett lay on the couch, wrapped in a blanket with a bottle of vodka on the side of the bed. From the way she was snoring, I could tell she was drunk. She was gradually unleashing herself. I adjusted her on the couch, so she doesn't fall off. I took the empty bottle and trashed it, then wore her socks so she doesn't freeze to death. I felt desire when I touched her skin and wanted to take her, but the thought that she had been with multiple men put me off, and I fought

And so, I made my way to the seer’s quarters, hoping she might give me something, anything, to hold on to. It was late, well past midnight, but my desperation outweighed any consideration for the hour. I approached Elsa’s room, feeling the weight of my hope and dread. Just as I reached her door, a sudden sensation rippled through me—an unmistakable tingle on the side of my neck where Scarlett’s mark was etched into my skin. The mark burned softly, a faint, yearning tug, like the whisper of a long-lost love. A surge of desire washed over me, powerful and sweet, but just as I tried to grasp it, the connection faded, as though something had cut it off.

I always took what I wanted, and I wanted this. Her. Even if I despised admitting it. I brushed my lips over her bare skin, inhaling her scent. Blood. Fear. Desire. All of it tangled together, a cocktail mixed just for me. How sweet. How tempting. It drove me to the edge of something dangerous—something I refused to name. Love? No. Judas Romanovski never love. This was control. Power. I didn’t love her. I craved the way her body trembled under me. The way she melted into my touch, even when she should be running in terror.

Too bad for them, I actually did spit fire. "Fine, but I think you should scrap Everhart from your mind. Find another target." Desiree's voice cut through my musings, jarring me back to the opulent ballroom. "What! I can't do that!" She stared at me, mouth agape, eyes wide. The look, strangely enough, reminded me of the hamster my father accidentally squeezed to death. And I use the term accidentally loosely. I jolted, shaking my head to dispel the unwelcome memory. I sighed, meeting Desiree's dramatic gaze. She always had a flair for the theatrical, but she wouldn't say no unless it was a genuinely bad idea. "Why? Give me one good reason, and I won't contact him."

With slow, deliberate steps, she approached, each step slow and sensual, her naked form a vision in the firelight despite her blood-stained bandages. Winter’s expression darkened, a tight frown etching his scarred face, though his gray eyes betrayed a mesmerized hunger tracing her curves. His chiseled torso tensed, arousal stirring despite Astrid’s cautious growl, a low warning rumbling in his chest, caution tempering desire. Without a word, Scarlett’s fingers brushed his open robe, sliding it from his broad shoulders, letting it fall to the floor. Her hands moved to his pants, easing them down until they stood bare, the air thick with heat.