Under The Skin Novels & Stories

Someone could easily listen to their conversation from miles away. “I don’t know, some of these sellers could be so dog-headed. I mean I am a woman and most are men” “Everyone has a price, Jessie. Besides with a little bit of dirt, you can always get someone to do what you want “ “Dirt”. She said, sounding very inquisitive. “Yeah, dirt. Nobody wants dirt on their clothes, nobody wants the skeleton in their cupboard to be revealed.” She didn’t say anything, just kept on sipping her smoothie, smacking her lips with each gulp.

Samantha stood in the middle of the forest, her body trembling as she gazed down at her hands. They were no longer human hands. Instead, they were covered in thick, dark fur, and ended in sharp claws. Her clothes had shredded apart, and she was naked except for a pair of shorts that barely held up against her newly formed muscular legs. The moon was full, and its glow seemed to intensify the changes she was going through. Samantha had never thought she would become a werewolf, but life had a way of surprising her.

He trailed her gaze and gulped when he realized what she was looking at. She walked up to the wall and touched a circular hole on the wall. Like something penetrated it. "What happened? " She asked. "It's just a drill. " He lied and she knew. When she first saw it, she knew immediately it was a bullet that caused it and since he doesn't want to talk, then he's hiding something. If he went to learn self defense, they wouldn't give him licence to a gun. So her assumption was in two ways. It's either he was attacked, and he doesn't want me to know. Or that he's a wanted criminal and is living undercover.

I only meant to give her a peck as an appreciation for her wit but I found I couldn't stop at one. Somehow my hand found its way under her sweatshirt, to the delicate skin of her stomach. It glided across to her back but the skin there wasn't as smooth as I've come to associate with her. It was jagged and uneven and seemed to spread out the higher I went. I wanted to continue exploring this odd new feature but she stiffened and extricated herself from the kiss and the enclosure of my arms. I opened my mouth but she beat me to it. “Don't ask. Please, just don't,” she said as she adjusted the sweatshirt self-consciously.

She doesn't know that my body has been honed into a slender, razor-sharp weapon. I reach into my discarded, mud-caked survival kit and pull out a bone-handled skinning needle. With rapid, flawless movements, I slice the side seams of the silver tunic, restructuring the shoulders and tightening the lower back panel until the metallic fabric clings to my torso like a second skin. The silver weave catches the torchlight, emphasizing the lean, powerful contours of my chest and the clean line of my collarbones, sharp as hunting blades.

I wasn't about to abandon it now. The stranger tilted his head slightly, a subtle, dangerous shift that made my breath hitch. He was studying me, cataloging my reactions, and I could tell he saw right through the performance. He reached down, his long, leather-gloved fingers smoothly catching the edge of my chin. His grip wasn't painful, but it was unyielding, forcing my head back so I had no choice but to look directly into the shadows of his mask. The leather was cool against my skin, a stark contrast to the heat flooding my cheeks.

“The first question is how were you able to keep the bouncing pace at a stretch. I mean, with every bounce you did on that dick, your pussy fully swallowed the dick and you were also following the same beat.” I blushed hard and I laughed out too, trying to curate the right words. “I mean…” “And girl, did I forget to mention how shiny and how moisturised your ass skin was? The ripple effect from the bounces were phenomenal too.” Sharon said and made a clock it sign with her fingers. “Okay so for my soft and bouncy skin, I use olive oil because it gives my skin this thready effect that I love it so much and It also makes my skin glow.”

"Show the street exactly who owns the title to this skin." Elias obeyed with a frantic, submissive urgency, his pristine executive persona vanishing completely under the weight of his infatuation. He scrambled over the leather driver’s seat, his palms flat against the cold glass of the windshield, his back arching into a deep, vulnerable curve that pushed his hips up and out. The dark purple bruises from the Sullivan Street basement were still clearly visible on his inner thighs—the permanent brand of his corruption.

My stomach lurched, and my skin crawled. They were thin and sickly, almost furless like naked mole-rats. What bugged me the most was their wrinkly, flushed skin, slick with mucus and dark veins branching beneath. “Moon Goddess, w-why do they l-look so abominable?” I stuttered, nearly losing my stomach at the sight of the monstrous wolf. Then I remembered that Selene was powerless. We were on our own.

Levi’s POV I turned sharply to the back of the hall, trying to put a face to the voice that had just objected to my wedding ceremony. Scanning the room, my eyes locked on a particular target. Monica. Of course. I had a feeling she would make an appearance. Dramatic as always, she was dressed in a skin-tight black floor length number, with an accompanying black shawl draped over her head.