Short Novel Story Novels & Stories

Omar looked at her face The moon was glimmered its luminous on her face while her nose pin shines through it, Her white teeth biting her bottom lip while her hair was softly flowing with breeze Omar didn't realize when he started leaning towards her, feelings his closeness to her, Hana fisted his shirt, her heart jumping in hr chest. "Hana!" When their lips was inches apart, Omar called her, to ask for permission. Hana hold onto his arm tightly, not having strength to open her eyes or nod her head. Two budding flowers in lawn faced each other as moon hide itself behind clouds to spread darkness. The End

We'd chat longer this time, exchange contacts, maybe share a story or two over steaming mugs. I reach my door and fumble with the keys for a moment. Inside, my apartment is a welcome haven of calm. Just the muffled city sounds drifting through the open window. I kick off my shoes by the door, feeling the cool tile under my feet, and head straight to the kitchen to brew some tea. Chamomile tonight, with a dash of honey to soothe my racing thoughts. As it steeps, I pull the note from my pocket and read it again, dwelling on each word. I set it on a small wooden table beside the rose, which is starting to wilt just a touch at the edges but still holds its vibrant red charm. I brush the petals l

There was still hope! I held my breath, hoping the silence would help her notice the phone ringing above me. Sure enough, Mom walked straight to the refrigerator this time. A sliver of light slipped in from outside. She squatted in front of the fridge and peered inside suspiciously. Above my head, the phone chirped and sang, "Hush, little baby, don't say a word, Mama's going to buy you a mockingbird. And if that mockingbird don't sing, Mama's going to buy you a diamond ring."

I would then watch some milf p**n and get off before I went to bed. Opening my eyes, I cleared my mind and re-read the first half of the story. I then started to type. The first few sentences were forced, but as time went on, I caught on and my fingers started to blur across the keyboard. As always when I wrote I became immersed in the story and got more into than I had thought I would. When I typed the words "The End" I sat back and after rubbing my tired eyes was surprised to see it was ten fifteen.

Especially Jake and Tyler. They were the closest to my brother. They were also the ones who gave me wet dreams. I noticed the way their gazes lingered on my legs whenever I wore shorts, the way they intentionally brushed past me whenever we passed each other in the kitchen. The tension was electric and I didn't know what to do with all that without seeming desperate. So like the normal person I was, I found solace in watching p**n. It was my guilty pleasure that no one knew about. And I didn't intend to let anyone know that I got myself off by watching other people getting fucked.

Chapter 1 Vanessa’s POV. I woke up to that empty side of the bed again, sheets cold as fuck where David should’ve been. Another goddamn work trip, gone before the sun even thought about rising. The house felt too quiet and too big, like it was pressing in on me from every wall. I threw on a simple tank top that rubbed against my bare tits and soft cotton shorts that clung to my ass, no bra, nipples already stiff from the morning chill.

Nor am I certain the story I want to tell warrants a full-length novel. Bearing all that in mind, I've decided to continue Rhett and Brynlee's story here in the form of a novella, which will start serializing tomorrow. For those of you still here and waiting patiently, thank you so much! Words can never express how grateful I am for each and every one of you! See you back here tomorrow! Cara

You're welcome in advance. It was just texting. No voice. No video. The method her words settled in his chest, it felt like presence. Later in the day as he was icing his knee, he picked up the book again and noticed a scribbled note in the margin. “Some stories aren’t about escape. They’re about returning as someone new.” He didn’t know if she wrote it or if the author did. But either way, it hit. He looked at the untouched tea up until it went cold.

We lay there in the dark, the city lights flickering in the distance. "I love you guys," she whispered, her voice barely a thread. "We love you, Gabriella," Arden said. "Always," Brent added. I just pulled her closer, claiming her lips fiercely, my heart beating in time with hers. The war was over. The game was won. And the prize was the only thing that ever mattered. Her. She would be ours forever. Ours to break, to fuck, to tame, to ruin. Our pretty princess and our submissive little slut. Our sweet Gabriella. THE END

You’re here to work. Inside the lighthouse the air smelled like coffee and woodsmoke and salt. He showed her the guest room — small, clean, a narrow bed with a window facing the open water. A shelf of books above it. She noticed that. Real books. Varied. Not what she expected from a man who’d chosen this kind of solitude. He told her the basic rules. Short sentences. No wasted words. She asked questions anyway, recorder ready in her hand. “Not yet,” he said when she lifted it.