Simone Elise Books Novels & Stories

“Bianca! Bianca! Pick this phone up now.” Elise almost yelled in frustration as she chewed on her sandwich filled with avocado, lettuce, chicken and tomato. Carl had gone out to attend to business, leaving her and the maid in charge,……….. in the huge house. Elise had taken a shower changed into a purple kimono and silk and fur sandals. Then the maid fixed her a plate of sandwiches and coconut milk infused with cinnamon. She decided to call Bianca and send the text to Bianca. But she had not picked up her phone.

Simon slightly raised his voice. Ellen looked alarmed if there wasn’t anyone observing the scene, then she slowly approached the ex-spouses. “Simon…?” she smiled angrily, reminding him that there were people around. Simon took a deep breath, then looked at me, like I was his solution to regain composure. “Simon,” Margaret called him once more, “I… I read your book… it’s a good story… so visual…” she sounded falsely remorseful, and desperate to get his attention. Simon gritted his teeth, and shut his eyes close for a second. Then he gave his ex-wife a freezing cold gaze.

she added. Maxwell’s mouth twitched. Not quite a smile. “Trust is a dangerous currency in this family.” “I’m aware,” she said quietly. For a long moment, no one spoke. Then Maxwell leaned forward, his voice low. “Tell me about your mother, Elise. Catherine Anderson.” I felt Elise go still beside me. “She was murdered when I was five,” she said. “The case was never solved.” Maxwell’s expression didn’t change. But something flickered in his eyes...something old and pained.

“We proved what he did. But not everyone who enabled him.” “No,” Elise said. “But we cracked the structure. And now we have enough to go after the rest.” Sophia turned to her. “Do you ever feel like it’s never-ending?” “All the time.” Elise sipped her tea. “But that’s not a reason to stop.” Sophia looked out across the lawn, where Katherine’s toys lay scattered. A plastic tiara. A miniature doctor’s kit. “What now?” she asked quietly. Elise shrugged. “You could write a book. Take a vacation. Disappear off the grid.”

Just as Zachary was about to strike, she slipped out of the car swiftly so he could not catch her. Zachary wanted to say something to her, but she did not hear. Anyway, she agreed to let him do whatever he wanted after two more days. Serenity smiled and went into the bookstore. Elisa and Jasmine were both in the store. One was holding a novel and reading it, and the other was fiddling with Serenity’s half-weaved craft. They looked at her at the same time when they saw her come in with a smile. Elisa spoke first. “Jasmine, have you noticed that Seren is getting prettier and prettier? Her smile is getting sweeter as well. It’s as bright as the morning sun.”

I looked down to see that Simone was crouching over me, ready to take me into her mouth. "I've been waiting for you," she hummed in a sexy voice. "It's about time you woke up." Then I felt her warm lips wrap around my c*ck and my eyes closed again. I wasn't tired at all, but I couldn't control the feelings that were building. She pulled me into her mouth as deeply as she could, using her hands to do the rest.

Alison's POV The tires crunched against the gravel as we drove out of the Valley of Skulls, the dark landscape shrinking into the rearview mirror. The silence between Simone and me was heavy, like the weight of an unspoken confession. My fingers gripped the steering wheel tighter than necessary, knuckles turning white. I exhaled sharply, breaking the quiet. “I can’t get her words out of my head.” Simone shifted in her seat, her brows knitting together. “Mother Eliza?” she asked, her voice soft yet wary, like she wasn’t sure she wanted to hear the answer.

Alexander instinctively reached for her arm. The stranger drew back their hood, only to reveal a familiar face: the barista from Café de Minuit, Elise, whose quiet kindness had brightened Isabelle’s first days in Valmont. “Elise?” Isabelle whispered. Elise’s dark eyes met hers. “Forgive the secrecy,” she said, voice low. “But I found something in the café yesterday,something that belongs to you.” She held out a slender sketchbook bound in deep rose leather. The cover bore Isabelle’s initials.

Elise had made it so by defiantly walking back into his life again. “Mincing isn’t so bad,” he heard her saying through a crack in the door. “I had a little game I used to play whenever Monsieur Eratat—he was my meanest, foulest instructor at La Cuisine—set me to it. I’d pretend I was his barber, and I’d imagine mincing up his stupid little mustache to within a hair’s breadth of his fat nose. Of course I had to do tiny, perfect little slices to prolong Monsieur Eratat’s torture.” Elise’s silvery laughter twined with masculine chuckles. “Even Monsieur Eratat had to admit to the class that no one had a finer mince than me,” Elise added, a smile in her voice. “I would never imagine that about y

He kept stumbling over his words, mentally cursing himself for getting nervous. “Oh, really!... Let me help you, then.” Before Dylan’s very eyes, his mate discarded her clothes, leaving her nude. There was no form of shame or embarrassment in her eyes, making him open his mouth in awe. Her breasts were firm and round with pointed nipples he couldn’t wait to suck and nibble. He was amazed at how flat her stomach was, like that of models in magazines, who barely ate, which wasn’t the case for his mate. Her slim waist perfectly complimented her large hips and thighs. Dylan tried to control the trembling in his legs as he struggled with his horny wolf from pouncing on Isabel and mating her on th