روايات وقصص ضمن Skimming Through A Book

It is the book that Rael asked me to read and I forgot to come back to it before knowing that I have been very keen and busy the last few weeks of my life. I could not help but to check on the opened pages and saw first fee verses. ** I creases my forehead when the part literally caught my attention. I check for the time on my phone and it’s still eight-three so I still have lots of minutes to spare just by reading the next part of this chapter. I check if how many pages I have to go through and saw that it’s just a one and half page so I decided to slumped back on my chair to continue checking and reading the next part.

I'd been reading it a lot lately, desperate to find answers. I flipped through the pages, noticing something odd for the first time. A page was missing. Ripped out, to be exact. I blinked hard, bringing the inside spine of the book closer so I could properly inspect. I hadn't been seeing things. The paper left on the page was uneven, an indication that someone had torn a page out. Why would someone do that? I scanned the surrounding pages, trying to make sense of the missing section. It seemed to be a crucial part of the book, detailing werewolf lore, ancient rituals and witch potions.

Why not? I set the book aside for a moment, propping it open on the armrest so I could glance at the steamy paragraphs. My fingers slipped under the waistband, finding my smooth, shaved mound. I was soaking already, just from reading. I circled my clit slowly, the nub swollen and sensitive under my touch. A soft gasp escaped my lips. “Mmm,” I murmured to myself, eyes fluttering shut as I imagined the stranger’s rough hands on me instead.

Why not? I set the book aside for a moment, propping it open on the armrest so I could glance at the steamy paragraphs. My fingers slipped under the waistband, finding my smooth, shaved mound. I was soaking already, just from reading. I circled my clit slowly, the nub swollen and sensitive under my touch. A soft gasp escaped my lips. “Mmm,” I murmured to myself, eyes fluttering shut as I imagined the stranger’s rough hands on me instead.

Her head snapped at me and she stood up from her place. I turned my gaze to the book in my hands and skimmed through the pages she was reading. I made eye contact with her and she turned nervous under my gaze. She ran towards me to snatch the book but I held it high making it out of her reach. She started jumping on her toes to reach the book. Such a shorty she is! She don't even reach to my shoulder properly. "He glided his tongue from her neck to the valley of her breasts." I started reading loudly making her red completely.

They wandered through the aisles, running their fingers along spines that held countless worlds within their pages. Emily's eyes sparkled with excitement as she plucked a weathered book from the shelf. "Liam, look at this," she exclaimed, her voice filled with wonder. "It's a collection of love letters from different eras. Each page holds the raw emotions of someone's heart."

The librarian, a wise old man with spectacles perched on his nose, had greeted them warmly and invited them to explore the dusty shelves filled with ancient tomes. As Scarlett's fingers grazed the spines of the books, a particular leather-bound volume caught her eye. Its title, "The Prophecy of the Shifting Stars," called to her with an inexplicable pull. She plucked it from the shelf and dusted off its cover, revealing faded golden letters etched into the leather. Curiosity burned within Scarlett. She opened the book and began to read aloud, her voice barely above a whisper. The words flowed like poetry from her lips, resonating deeply within her soul.

Logan walked towards it and raised one corner of the wrapper, peeking underneath and causing a lot of dust to blow around. He dropped the wrapper and walked to the window behind the desk, opening the blinds that covered it and letting in a bit of sunlight. Then he turned from the windows and faced the first book shelf that he saw. He brought out all the books on the shelf and poured them on the floor, then sat on the ground beside them. He opened the first book and quickly skimmed through it. When he didn't see anything he went to the second; on and on he went until he had flipped through all the books on the floor and he hadn't found any useful information.

I panic, shooting up and bonking foreheads with him. “Ouch.” I wince, rubbing my head once he’s pulled away and given me space to sit up. “Is your head made of iron?” “Arguably.” He responds, sitting right next to me. “What are you doing?” He asks, staring at the sea of books scattered around the mess I’ve accumulated over the past few hours. Shit, he can’t find out that I’m looking for something. “I’m just going through the books for fun. It’s something I do when I see books, you know. I go book-crazy — weird, isn’t it?” I babble the first random excuse that makes its way into my head.

My legs carry me inside, passing the shelves lined with books, stalking around the table, my fingers trailing over the smooth surface as I walk. My fingers paused on the worn edge of a familiar book with a crescent moon carved at the front, the one with no name. Picking it up, fall into the chair. I roll backward then turn around, with one hand, I push back the curtain, popped a foot under me, and I get comfortable, and start reading. The book is a short one, I finish it in an hour and a half, and I remain staring at the book afterward.