Snobs Novels & Stories

The kind that means they're watching. Stay calm, Sable whispers inside me. Don't give her what she wants. I don't. I straighten up, meet Britney's eyes for just a second, then turn back to my locker. My hands shake as I reach for my chemistry textbook. I hate that they shake. I hate that she can see it. "What's wrong?" Britney leans against the locker next to mine. Her perfume is too strong. It makes my nose itch. "Cat got your tongue? Oh wait—you don't have a wolf, so I guess nothing's got your tongue."

49 I sucked his schlong real good Annabel was already prepared, she was wearing a very short blue crazy jean skirt and a one hand fancy black top that shows her flat tommy. With her simple but luxurious fancy sandals that has diamonds on it. She had long ago left home, and was now heading to the address that was sent to her. She got to the place and walked in. Whoever she walked pass must turn and admire her beauty because of how beautiful she was. Most Expecially, her figure and curve was perfect for her kind of beauty. She was just admired by many.

“The first letter read: ‘I, Prince Habeb, the Prince of Suramy demand from you, Banabella, whose name I discovered in my dreams. I beg you in the name of your own god, grant me my wish, and avoid being uprooted from the face of the earth.” The second parchment read: “Because you have hidden Banabella in an unidentifiable place, with the intent of deceiving me, I’ll tread upon your bodies and make your kingdom bare like ordinary earth. Till I see Banabella, the people of Muzagah shall not be privileged to take in air into their nostrils before the sun sets tomorrow. Prince Habeb speaks!’

“Mr. Grant. We were just coming to meet you. I hope we’re not late.” Oh, heck. That's Mr. Grant! And I’d just blurted something out about rich guys being snobs. Cringe moment. I squeezed my eyes shut and took subtle deep breaths, feeling overcome with nausea. Even his voice sounds perfect. This guy threw cash around like it was pocket change, but it was always for the benefit of others. He was not what I would call a snob at all.

“A spy. The Russian’s idea of a Trojan horse wearing perfume and a pretty bow.” “She hates bows.” The words tumbled past my lips before I could catch them and I watched Matteo's eyebrows raise. “And you know that how?” Curiosity laced his voice. “Is there something you're not telling me? Something I'm missing here.?” I didn't answer him. Instead, I crossed my room in a couple of strides, heading for my already opened bottle of scotch. “Not at all.” I poured myself a drink, despite the hour. “If your theory does turn out to be true, then it's better she stays close. Easier to control something in your bed than at your gates, don't you think?”

he chuckles, his words causing me to freeze and slowly turn to face him. Shooting a soul penetrating glare his way, I grimaced as it seemed to have no effect on him, "maybe next year, Sebastian, Embry won't be joining us at Christmas dinner this year" I gloat. "Really, well try telling mom and dad that" he mocks as I just about stop myself from throwing this plate at him.

I could tell he was still talking but his words were nothing but background noise to me. His eyes. His smile. The stray unruly strands that always escaped his bun no matter how neatly he tried to make it. I can’t help the near silent giggle at the thought of his helmet hair. The faint smell of tobacco on his clothes. I’ve always hated the smell of anything cigarette related but he smells so good despite the fact. His aftershave I believe is the reason for that. His Six-foot One stature. His smartly and professional looking outfits he randomly puts together, even when he's wearing his motorbike jacket and boots or just slacks and his cardigans in the mornings. His voice. God, that man’s voice

"I appreciate the compliment. I don't need anything else, you can return to your post." Sabine held his gaze a beat longer than the moment required, then let it go, settling back into her seat with the easy composure of someone recalibrating a plan rather than someone embarrassed by a misread. "Understood," she said, lighter now, professional again. "You'll have to forgive me. It's a long night, and I don't often work with clients who are quite so singular about who they love."

I suck in a breath through my nose, immediately regretting it as that same thick smell fills my lungs again, heavy and sharp, mixed with sweat and sex and something else underneath that makes my stomach turn. Shit. I take a step forward anyway… I don’t have a choice, and my shoulder bumps into someone before I can even see clearly. “Watch it,” the guy snaps, but his voice changes the moment his eyes land on my face. He looks young, probably around my age, dressed too clean to be one of the guests and too relaxed to be staff. His gaze drags over me slowly, then drops to my hands, to the tray, then back up again. “You don’t look okay,” he says, lowering his voice.

/* AS THE NAME SAYS. IT’S TABOO. IT’S FF BUT I WON’T MIND IF ANYONE FINDS IT ODD. DONT HATE ME. I WOULD RESPECT YOUR CRITICISM. BUT PLEASE DONT JUDGE ME OR COMMENT HARSH. PLEASE SKIP THIS CHAPTER IF YOU DONT LIKE IT */ ***** "Fletcher, are you going somewhere". Emery asked watching him coming downstairs. He was dress up in black jeans and black shirt and jacket. He was wearing his jewelry, rings, ear studs and chains. After a long time.