Romans & histoires The Perfect Sister Book

Like she's a stranger to him and not the fiance he had for years. “The one and only, miss perfection herself.” I smile, swallowing down every bit of jealousy the thoughts of him and her alone all those times trigger me. “You know, you two would have made such a lovely couple, youre annoyingly perfect is absolutely perfect, aside from that mistake she made. My sister has trained herself to be your suitable lover since six years ago. She's a perfectionist and—” “You think I'm perfect?” he coos, his eyes softening with his words.

"To the kingdoms. To the established order. To everything our parents have worked to build." "I'm your sister," I countered. "That has to count for something." She laughed, a bitter sound that echoed strangely in the clearing. "Sister. Right. The sister who was supposed to be the failure, the disappointment who could barely shift properly. And now look at you…manifesting powers that could get the whole world to turn against you, in a minute. Do you have any idea how that feels? Knowing I spent my whole life being perfect, being exactly what they wanted, and you still end up being... this?"

She pointed. She peeked and smiled. “My sister, Poppy.” “She’s pretty!” Samantha beamed, and they both grinned. My forehead furrowed hearing that Tara had another child. Anger is rising and creeping in every vein of my body. “You and your mommy are like two peas in a pod,” She said. “Do you know you sleep like mommy, too?” Samantha grinned, making Bree giggle again. “But tell me, did mommy get married?” My eyebrows puckered, waiting for Bree’s answer, although I knew the answer already.

Mother will kill you for being imperfect, today! While Sephora couldn't hear her, she followed her sister's gaze to her wings and raised them, and adjusted her posture, "It's not like I'm the perfect sister anyway. Not that you would understand. You are the favorite." Seraphina reached over to take her black and intricate breastplate off of a bust that wore it when she did not. The raven twins knew each other too well. Even without meeting each other's eyes, they usually had a keen sense when something was wrong with each other.

Hands folded in my lap, unsure if I was supposed to agree or argue. Her tone softened as she continued. “She was always so… too good to be true,” she said bitterly with a bit of resentment. “Always flaunting that perfection, as if I should bow to it. But a perfect face doesn’t make a perfect wife. And certainly not a perfect ally.” “I didn’t know my sister to be that,” I admitted quietly, “But it sounds like she wasn’t what you wanted for Edmondo. Err.. I mean, the Don.” She studied me for a moment. Her eyes narrowed. Then, to my surprise, she smiled faintly. “No, she wasn’t. But you… you’re different. You’re not trying to impress anyone. That’s refreshing.”

My sister is nearly a thing of perfection. Her perfect tight body is toned from Pilates and yoga. Her warm brown eyes and hair are welcoming with kindness. The full red lips tempt you with desire. Pulling my fingers out, I bury my tongue in her pussy, pushing it into her soaked hole. One hand on her hip to steady as she jolts, and the other slides along her stomach and under her bra, cupping her breast. I devour her, licking and sucking between her clit and entrance, gulping down her taste and hoping to drown in her juices. “Oh god- what! Nghhh.” She screams, pushing back into my face for more. “Please, please. Don’t stop. You never—“ I suck hard on her clit, not wanting her to complete what

What more I needed to know, he didn't accept it directly. But he was the father of that unborn child. A one-night stand only. It broke my heart. Honestly, it shattered the image of Perfect Darius in my mind. How did I forget most of the men are like that only. “But...,” But who the hell am I to comment on him? Is my life perfect? No, I guess not. But one thing is for sure; nobody is perfect. ********** I came home thinking of how my life was more like a web. My phone buzzed and there I saw, my sister called me.

I wasn't the kind of person who could just toss someone's possessions carelessly, not even my sister's, not even after what she'd done. "Some poor charity shop worker is going to have a heart attack when they open these boxes," Maya joked, holding up a barely-there piece of lingerie. I laughed, though it felt strange to be touching my sister's intimate things. "I'm sure they've seen worse." "Doubt it." She dangled a lacy scrap of fabric. We continued working, making steady progress through the massive closet. When I reached the back corner shelf, my fingers brushed against something solid tucked behind a stack of cashmere sweaters. I pulled it out, surprised to find a leather-bound book.

Just my sister, smaller than the version of her I kept in my memory, sitting in my room in the early morning light with her eyes red at the edges. "Close the door," she said. I did. She did not speak immediately. I did not push her. I moved to the chair by the window and sat, and we stayed like that for a moment, two sisters in a room that had never fully belonged to either of us. "You were gone seven years," Vivian said finally. Her voice was quiet. Not accusing. Something worse than that. "I know." "Do you know what they told me?" She looked at her hands. "They told me I had to be perfect. That I had to be everything a future Luna was supposed to be. Because you had already made things dif

"Heidi, the night I left Mannorworth, I was in a daze and got into an accident. I lost both my legs. I read your picture book every day. Congratulations on your wedding. Everything I put you through—it all came back to me." I finished reading, then tapped delete and block. I felt no hatred nor any sense of vindication—for I had long moved on. … Clifton sat by the window in the care home, his phone screen frozen on the "message sent" page. The nurse placed his medication on the table. "Mr. Cooper, it's time to take your medicine." But he didn't move. The picture book on his lap was open to the last page. The little girl, holding her magnolia wood paintbrush, had walked out of the shadow. Spri