Sweetly Stitched Novels & Stories

Eyes locked on mine. Dark. Possessive. He stripped off his shirt in one smooth motion. Then his pants. His cock sprang free—heavy, thick, already leaking. He crawled over me again. Spread my thighs wider. Lined himself up. “Look at me,” he ordered. I did. Our eyes locked. He pushed inside—slow this time. Inch by inch. Filling me completely. I gasped. He groaned—low, broken. “So fucking perfect,” he whispered.

Shaking, I wiped the remaining tears from my cheeks and then curled up on the bed. Styx Syruis: Why are you not answering my call? Styx Syruis: Are you okay? I smile a little before typing. Zyxhiaxy Eleanor: you're clingy, aren't you? He quickly replied when he saw my chat. Styx Syruis: I am not. I laughed softly. Even in chat, he's cute. Zyxhiaxy Eleanor: do you miss me now? HHAHAHAHA miss you, too."

Amanda cries. "Belinda planned it, so you cannot get a new dress. Do not worry, my dear. I have a plan. Let's go to Susan. She's one of the best seamsters in town. I am sure she can help us. Let's go and see her immediately. I do not care how much it costs, but I will pay to fix the dress. Because I think you look beautiful in blue and will be the most beautiful woman at the ball. You will catch Chase's eye because you are much more attractive than Belinda. Belinda is not worthy of a man like Chase. Jake can have her if you want. If he is in love with her, give him to her. Now, drive to Susan's house so we can get this dress fixed," Christine says. They drive to Susan's house, and Susan agre

In front of her hung a black off-shoulder dress. It wasn't overly flashy. It cinched at the waist, and the fabric flowed gracefully with a subtle sheen. The sheer outer layer was studded with tiny diamonds. Under the lights, it sparkled like a star-strewn sky. It was so dazzling that it was impossible to look away.

Sabrina woke up and felt a little better after yesterday's outburst. Her eyes were a still a little puffy and sore. She stode up to go have a quick shower. She submerged herself in the water. The steam surrounded her and while the water gave her relief. She stayed submerged for a while then got up to face the world. She quickly got dressed and did her hair. She was wearing a black dress with a red rose in her hair. It was simple but sophisticated.

Gillian could not believe his eyes, he just watched what was happening. “Let us go inside”, Mr. Hilary announced while the Alpha was still looking around and observing all the activities. “Okay”, he responded gently still amazed at what he was seeing. They got inside the warehouse first and he saw textiles of different type and colour arranged neatly according to their types; some were knitted, others were weaved and some were crocheted textiles. The old alpha was perplexed, he opened his mouth slightly at the awe of what he was seeing.

Thank you all for always supporting “Sweet Treachery”. I couldn’t have asked for better fans. I love you all!!! I rush to the window to catch a glimpse Of how life used to be wonderful How there were no worries and I was at ease I had my family’s love in full But all I see is the tears of the moon In the form of dew And the life which I once knew Is now a poor shadow of itself PenaciousShewa

Meanwhile, my thoughts are distracted, plotting all the necessary steps for my sweet, bloody return. End

"Yes". She replied with the perfect word and every self restraint I had left was swept away immediately. "Take it off". I demanded, referring to her jeans, she understood immediately and reached for the button but I stopped her. I suddenly had the urge to do it myself, so I place a finger around the waist band of the jeans and lightly stroke her skin and the slight shiver I got in return made me smile. She's so responsive, just how I remember. I stop my mild tease, and pop the button, then making my way to her zip and all these I'm doing very slowly.

My slippered step falters beneath the weight of it, the marble floor suddenly feeling treacherous beneath the thin soles. My shawl shifts slightly off one shoulder, revealing a glimpse of my silver curls, and my fingers reflexively clutch at the edge of it tighter. The silk is cool and smooth, but I find the familiar rough stitching of trees and animals along the seam and hold fast—needing that scrape of thread beneath my fingertips like a tether to something real. Something mine. The embroidery is slightly raised, each stitch a small bump I can trace with my thumb, grounding me in tactile certainty.