Slow Burn Stories Novels & Stories

"Let me tell you, it is better to get killed on the spot than being just thirty minutes in their custody and getting tortured. They won't kill you easily. They will torture you until they get what they want from you." Arjun thought for a moment before continuing,"I once heard they burned a man alive. I don't know why. They pulled his all teeth and nails before pouring wax all over his body and tortured so many times before setting him on fire. And his―" "Okay that's enough. I think you are exaggerating." He shivered at the thought. "I'm not―" Arjun tried to protest. "Whatever. Stay on the topic."

For this reason, I decided to move all then into strange short stories, that is already a storybook of different themes. The w******l policy does not allow me to remove or delete those books, so they will remain there but as a "paused" book. You can find only the introduction of those books on w******l and no else more. But there you can find some covers I made for those stories and that I can not upload here. The stories of a single chapter will continue to be published, of course. Each volume of Strange short stories will have 3 medium-sized stories and about 10 short stories.

Why are they still above me? Worst was the fact that he could feel the steady burn trailing a path down his chest, leaving a cold trail of burns that would be covered in scarred tissue before a third day. He could attribute being the weakest of the three to being held back by the pain. But regardless of how practiced a liar he was, this lie was one he couldn’t fall for; on more than one occasion he’d burned colder and faster than this. This pain slowed him, but not enough to make a significant difference.

"Without an ending, the stories just... keep going! There will be no rest! No closure! The universe will become a run on sentence!" "Good," Elara said. "Let it run on." She pulled a lighter from her duster pocket…..the one Vane had given her back in the High Court. She flicked the flame. "Elara, wait," Vane said, grabbing her wrist. "If you burn this, your story with me... it never reaches a conclusion. We'll be in this 'Volatile Middle' forever. The tension, the fighting, the hunger... it never settles into peace."

The family gathered under the blood moon, the smell of scorched earth in the air, and the memory of an almost-tragedy burned into their bones. Three days later, Thelma sat by the fireplace, a shawl over her shoulders, and Saint in her lap. She opened her leather-bound book. “Tonight, I will tell you the story of the girl who burned and became legend.” Saint looked up. “Is it about you?” She smiled. “It always was.”

She thought. She grabbed a mug from the counter and poured herself some coffee. “You know, normal people start their mornings with breakfast, or even scrolling through their phones. Not…typing their life away before the sun even rises.” “I’m not… normal people,” he said. “Yeah” she muttered, “I kinda noticed.” She sat down across from him, opening her laptop. The blank document stared back at her…mocking her. “So…what’s the plan? We’re writing a book about two people who hate each other but end up falling in love, right?”

"I say you’re ambitious, Blackwood. Let’s see what’s in the rations." We sat there in the fading light, a rejected mate, a secret daughter, and a King with no crown, just breathing. For the first time in five years, the "Slow Burn" wasn't a fire that was consuming me. It was a hearth, keeping the cold at bay. And for tonight, that was enough.

"So full… keep going slow like this. Let me feel all of you." He chuckles low, a rumble in his chest that vibrates through me, but he complies, his thrusts unhurried, building the heat gradually like a slow burn. I can feel the veins on his cock dragging inside me with each slide, the way my walls hug him tightly, slick and warm with my arousal. Sweat builds between us, making our skin slip and stick in places, and I arch my back to take him deeper, my heels digging into the back of his thighs to urge him on. His hands explore my body, tracing my sides, cupping my breasts, thumbs circling my nipples until they're stiff peaks begging for more attention.