The Grind Is Real Novels & Stories

and he started grinding his lower half slowly against her and Aurora didn't know when she started grinding her ass against his throbbing harden c**k. Spoilt Willow

Loud enough for the front rows. Whispers exploded. A cousin dropped her bouquet. Jose's face went hot. He stormed down the aisle, shoes crushing petals. "You piece of shit. You always do this. Always have to drag everything into the mud the second I get something clean." Rainer smiled with his teeth. "Clean? You buried an empty box, Jose. She made sure of it." Security hauled him toward the doors. Rainer kept talking even as they dragged him out. "Ask her about the pills. Ask her why the grave dirt looked fresh last week."

Some of the creamy spinach soup had splattered onto the couch, wilted spinach clinging to the armrest in a slimy mess. A pang of regret hit me. This was the last meal I'd ever make for Jayden. Even tossing it would've been better than this. Now, it was smeared all over the floor, making the whole place feel gross. But Jayden wasn't done venting his anger. He grabbed the mahogany chair and slammed it into the wall. The concrete had only been applied that day, and the impact tore a chunk out. A pale hand stuck out from the crumbling wall. One look from Jayden, and he'd see my corpse stuffed inside.

“Dude, are you going to save her?” Steele asked, looking at us. “Nope. She got herself into that mess, she can get herself out of it.” Maddox was enjoying the show. However, the song changed to Grind on Me by Pretty Ricky. Jo completely shoved Cade out of the way and pulled me against her. Vivian, Brett, Willow, and a handful of other people gathered around to dance. I could feel Maddox’s eyes on my ass as I made sure to move right on the beat. Slowly and pushing it out.

"You're a cripple now, so let's see how you're going to fight me now." Suddenly, his hand tilted, and the entire glass of scalding hot milk poured over my arm. A sharp, burning pain exploded through my nerves as I grunted in pain, and my crutch slipped from my grip. I lost balance and crashed heavily to the floor. A searing agony ripped through my leg, and cold sweat from pain soaked my back. But what broke me more was the music box that tumbled from my arms and clattered onto the floor with a crisp crack.

Theodore stumbled backward, nearly collapsing in shock. Their expressions cycled rapidly from lifeless vacancy to wide-eyed incredulity, then to unbridled ecstasy, and finally to an overwhelming, fiery intensity that threatened to consume me whole. My sunglasses slid down, revealing the face that had haunted their dreams night after night. My lips curved into a seductive, knowing smile. "It's been a while, my former paymasters. I like this bracelet. You wouldn't fight me for it, would you?"

His hands wouldn't stop shaking. By the time dusk bled through the windows, turning the fog outside into something bruised and purple, Marcus couldn't stand the silence anymore. He needed people. Real people. Living, breathing humans who existed in mirrors and had pulses and didn't speak in riddles about integration, authenticity and remembering who you really are.

THE GRIND {Playlist Suggestion: "Work Song" by Hozier / "Gasoline" by Halsey} ~CHELSEA POV~ My feet were bleeding. Okay, maybe not actually bleeding, but it definitely felt like my toes had been put through a meat grinder. I had been in these stupid, mandatory black heels for eight hours straight, walking the concrete floors of The Mirage, dodging grabby hands, checking empty glasses, and fake-smiling until the muscles in my face twitched.

When I'm brought back to the Gould family, Matthew Gould, the adopted son who's taken my place all these years, doesn't even bother putting on an act. The first thing he does is punch me square in the face. "So what if you're the real son? Mom and Dad already told me all the family assets will be mine, and that you're not getting a dime!" I don't take it lying down. I hit him back even harder, then drag him straight to Mom and Dad, his face swollen almost beyond recognition. "Is what he said true?" I demand. Mom and Dad look panicked, putting on placating smiles as they scramble to explain. "Of course not! You're both our sons. We'd never treat either of you differently." I raise an eye

Slur it bold, too drunk for filters. She grins wickedly, grabs hand. "Thought you'd never ask, groom boy." Floor's packed, bodies grind. "Fúck it, let's keep partying," slurs one buddy. She backs ass into me, soft, round perfection rubbing bulge. Lap dance turns filthy: hips roll slowly, teasing my shaft through pants. "Feel that? You're packing," purrs over music, grinding harder.