Scarred Spicy Chapters Novels & Stories

Stay tuned for our grand reopening! My stomach dropped. My jaw tightened until it hurt. I wasn’t sad; it wasn’t that simple. I was craving. Spicy wasn’t just a distraction anymore; she was escape, release, and fire. She was everything Sabrina wouldn’t give me, but everything I wanted at the same time. Without her, I felt restless, cornered, raw. “Scott, hand me the whisky,” I said, stretching out my hand. “What whisky?” His voice was too innocent.

But I'd hoped he’d see the scars that lie across my skin and repulse him. I felt the soft tips of his fingers run down my scars at first.. Then he moved his fingers down my side to the side of my bottom, then my thigh. Everywhere he touched felt like it was being ignited like little fires. Though I also felt disgusted by him, scared, angry, and hatred. Those were enough to make anything remotely good turn sour really quick.

I would go with dignity, if only in the hope it would make it easier for Scar to bear. “No!” Scarlett roared, leaping towards us, her glowing hands outstretched. “I love you,” I whispered shakily, and then I waited for the final lance of pain to come. It never did. My agony throbbed and pulsed, wretched but constant. I felt dizzy and sick. But there was no burning tear of teeth into flesh. Instead, there was a gust of wind so intense it seemed to sweep inside me, joining the blood in my very veins and swirling down to my soul. It stitched and healed, bringing life back to my lifeless limbs. Where there had been only death, life was returned.

I will answer. If any of you are waiting for romance and leap , so sorry to disappoint you. . No leap no romance till 100 chapters. When Apurva Sanghvi will be properly introduced then it will start . so after 100 chapters you will find romantic scenes , true love and friendship , business ethics and family survival, war between pride and justice . Thanking you Author HEER.

This way you wouldn’t have to put up with me… Yes. You should just lie down and accept that you’re going to get torn to pieces by those monsters, how fitting of an end it is. I mean your family did cut into you and throw you away like you were the dirt on the bottom of their shoes, they wanted you to be bait. They wanted you dead. In their defence I would have done the exact same. That’s exactly what that scar means it’s why you should give up. You were meant to die when they used you. My eyes sting as tears and sweat enter them, I should give up. It would be better for everyone if I just stopped trying. Is that what I should do? Give up? Like a coward?

A smile appeared on her face as she slowly picked it up again. Bestiee❤: Still up? Her smiling face immediately changed. She dropped her phone, promising herself not to pick it again. She sighed, opening her textbook. Chapter 22.

My hair was being pulled by his hand as he groaned loudly. ***** My eyes hurt. I felt like a heavy weight lay on my eyes and I was not even sure what it is. I slowly peeled my eyes open and closed them immediately as the sunlight nearly blinded them. I reopened my eyes and arched my eyebrows as I try to remember where I was. The last thing I could remember was drinking a glass of scotch in the club. I sprung up from the bed and my eyes widened as I stared at the man beside me. I was terrified as I peered at the bare back that was facing me. I got out of bed nervously, crossed the bed, and stopped in front of him so I could see his face. I gasped and fell to the ground after noticing the scar

I heal. Between ceremonies, my body repairs itself. The marks fade, the bruises yellow, the cuts close. But something always remains a thin scar here, a more sensitive area there, a pain that reappears when I move a certain way. My body becomes a book where my story is written, night after night. And I love him.

A man on the boat reached out his hand to help me up. His face was hidden in shadow, but I could see a scar running down his cheek. I watched the flames and bid farewell to my former self. From this moment on, there was no more Serena Ferrari. From now on, I would become my own queen.

The bite of the slap was still burning in their marrow — Samuel Blackwood slapping his own son in our presence. It had not been rage alone that silenced them. It was the knowledge of what they had witnessed: a chink in the armor of the man they followed. A chink that smelled of weakness. --- “Never thought I’d see it,” he muttered, Scarface, his scar pulling taut as he spat onto the concrete, but His voice was low, and in the cavernous space, even whispers traveled. “The boss bled. Like a whipped dog.” A few of the men were surprised. One, a tattooed, slouching smuggling thug, growled, "Watch your mouth."