Stolen Touches Novels & Stories

"Seeing you in clothes like this, I admit the prospect of attacking you is tempting, Tabitha, but I've never seduced a woman with paint on her nose." Tabitha looked down at her unseemly T-shirt, then gasped at how her thin shirt clung to her chest. Tabitha grumbled inwardly. She ventured to look at Keith Jackson, but the tall man bent down to pick up the wet rag Tabitha had used to wipe away the dripping paint. Fascinated, like a hypnotized person, Tabitha saw the man approaching her and reached out to lift her chin. Keith lifted Tabitha's head so he could see the paint stain on Tabitha's nose he was about to wipe.

I asked, moving my fingers inside and out of both holes at the same time. "I do," she moaned, sounding so fucking hot. I kept moving my fingers, and seeing her squirm because of my touch made me so fucking hard. But I knew Aaro would take care of me after I was done with her; she was just as much of a giver as she was a taker. And fuck, could she take whatever I give her like a good girl. "Storm!" Aaro screamed out when she came and I removed my fingers and got up. I licked her spine right up to her mark. She tasted so fucking good.

He lost his mate that's why he looks so lonely and here she is rubbing the reality in his face. She slowly raised her dainty hand clasped in gloves, from her lap and slowly placed it on his hand which was on the table. As soon as he felt his touch he felt an odd spark coming from her touch. He felt the serene calmness in his demeanour and his all anger vanished away.

Peter A jolt of shock and disbelief surged through me as I processed Vasil's words. Stolen? When? How? "Stolen?" I repeated, my voice edged with frustration and desperation. "What do you know about the theft?" Vasil sighed heavily, his expression revealing his own disappointment. "It was taken just a few days ago... Right around the time you went into a coma. The theft was executed with an alarming level of sophistication. The museum's security was bypassed entirely. They're working on recovering the surveillance footage."

he says, reaching for her lap again. She isn't about to lose her virginity to this drunk and not-so-good-looking man. His breath reeked the smell of drinks mixed with a stench of cigarettes, a smell she despises the most. She couldn't lie to herself anymore, she might not get on with this new lifestyle. "Don't touch me!" she says sternly, pushing his hands away from her. He forcefully grabs her by the arm and pulls her closer to himself, she tries to break free and is also staring at the group of people that we're dancing in the club to reach for Olivia but her sight is also getting blurry,

My words seemed to be getting to him because his expression flickered… anger, then something else. Remorse, maybe. But I wasn’t done. “You do not get to act like some jealous boyfriend because last I checked, you weren’t my boyfriend. You’re just someone who stole me from my fiancee… and you don’t own me.” He swallowed, the sharp edges of his fury now dulled under the weight of my words.He reached for me, fingers grazing my wrist, but I jerked away before he could get a proper grip. I was steady, and had spoken my mind. And I knew the moment he touched me, I would let almost everything that had happened tonight slip from my brain.

Not being able to hold him, kiss him, or hear his laughter was affecting her more than she wanted to admit. Distracted while cooking, she accidentally sliced her finger with the knife. As she tried to stop the blood, the food burned in the process. Everything felt off without Phillip around. Wrapping her finger in a napkin, she pressed it tightly to stop the bleeding. Just as she attempted to salvage what was left of her meal, her phone chimed with a message. It was from Collins: Hey, I have a plan to get Loveth back. I’ll call you later. I have an errand to run.

I tilted my head back against his shoulder, letting his lips graze the sensitive spot just below my ear. “I let him think he did.” His hands slid up my bare waist, possessive, claiming. “You let him touch you.” “Only my hand,” I whispered, turning in his arms to face him. “And only long enough for the cameras to catch it.” Theo’s eyes were black in the dim light, jealousy still simmering beneath the surface. He lifted my left hand, thumb brushing over the diamond like he wanted to crush it. “This comes off. Now.”

He couldn't move a single inch. "Let me go, you piece of trash!" Trevor screamed, his voice cracking as he clawed at my wrist. He was painting, sweat dripping down his temple. He turned so red, a tomato's got nothing on him. "You stole her! You stole my life, and you stole my girl!"

The evidence of my own betrayal clung to the blue lace in his hand. My face burned, a deep, scalding heat impossible to hide as I watched him fold the damp fabric into his palm and slip it into his pocket like a trophy. As if he hadn't just stolen the breath from my lungs, as if he hadn't just taken proof of exactly what his touch had done to me. Then he released my leg. My foot touched the floor again, unsteady, the sudden freedom almost as shocking as the loss of the lace. Before I could put distance between us, his hand returned to my throat, not crushing, but claiming.