Unknown Lover Bl Novels & Stories

The thought struck him, Nala would gladly go with him if he called her, the only problem was she hadn't returned any of his calls and that meant she wasn't ready to speak to him yet. He left home with his usual pocket money left by his father and started his journey on foot. After walking for a few minutes almost at the school, he could see a lady with her head held down, swinging her hands and walking slowly. Her blonde hair was not styled and it suddenly dawned on him, that was Tasha. He was surprised she was still here. Swallowing his pride, he crossed over and approached her. "Hey, you are still around?" Tasha raised her head slowly, with her eyebags swollen like someone who lacked a goo

Staring to the wall clock in the corridor she saw it was already passed midnight and already 1am yet Loveth was in cloud nine and disturbing their eardrums. She wondered whom was the man in Loveth's room was or was she dreaming?. Not able to believed the dream, Nova rubbed her eyes to be sure and she slowly walked to Loveth's room door to peep carefully not to pushed the room door open as she didn't knew if Loveth locked it from within. Nova approached the door and peep carefully and she saw Loveth on top of the man not like Loveth was forced and Loveth was the one riding the man and moving on top of him.

Joe couldn't bother her anymore, with the pictures he had taken of her that afternoon in the company parking lot, she was sure he wouldn't bother her anymore. “Tonight you're going to shine, Morgana, so smile!” Beaming with joy, she went in search of her friend. A red wine-colored Pathfinder van was parked out front. She stopped in her tracks. “Here,” Lorena rolled down the glass of the back window. “Wooa,” said Morgana, “I didn't expect this”. “Meet my friend, Albert,” Lorena's eyes showed excitement. “Hey, nice to meet you,” she extended her hand, but something about the man didn't like it.

“There is a line of applicants in the lobby. That’s where she should go.” I got jolted when I heard a domineering voice. Who was that? Suddenly, the swivel chair turned to face us, and my eyes widened in surprise to see who had suddenly talked earlier. He was the guy I had a one-night stand two weeks ago! “Uncle,” I heard Mico call him. “Uncle?!” Did I just hear it right? He said, ‘Uncle?’ Damn! I never thought I had a one-night stand with his uncle!

More jewels and gowns than I could count. Every night he needed me, I’d put on whatever lacy thing he picked out. We’d have sex. Five years. 999 times. There were moments—his sweat dripping on my forehead, his soft breaths inside me, the way he’d look at me—when I let myself dream he loved me. Then the video dropped. Him. On the street. Kissing another woman. I knew the truth. He was my keeper, not my lover. Everyone laughed. They couldn't wait to see me lose my mind, begging him to keep me.

Anna asked which one he wanted. He did not reply. Throughout the morning, notifications kept popping up. Every message was read. None were answered. Until the last one. The tone shifted. No longer ribs or tenderloin. It was a photo of two sets of lingerie. One black. One white. Sexy versus innocent. The phone vibrated. "Lover: Which one do you think looks better on me?"

Uncertainty gnaws at my gut as I scroll through my inbox until I find a new message request from a rather unknown number. My heart thumps. This must be it. But who is this person? My brows draw together in curiosity as I finally open the message. What I see makes my heart freeze with disbelief. UNKNOWN: Hello, amor. Missed me? What? My heart pounds with bewilderment because I know there's only one person who calls me by that pet name — amor. How the hell did Carl get my number?!

“[Unknown]: Hope you liked your gift, Xabrina? Btw, you looked good drowning in the pond of your own blood. Expect more gifts to come, this is only just the beginning.” I gazed at my phone intently, the blood draining away from my face just as a very abstract memory from that night flitted across my mind. I wasn't the only one who was in that alley that night after the car zoomed away. Someone else was there and the person approached me just as I was losing consciousness from the loss of blood. I tried ransacking through my memory for the tiniest bit of information on who it was but all I got was the memory of a man's loafers as the person squatted to my level.

Mark, though eager to ask questions, exercised patience. “Liam.” “What?” Julie gasped, wiping her tears. “What about Liam?” “I’m… I’m sorry… I…” “Was it him? Did he do this to you?” “I followed him last night. He told me that… I’m sorry, Julie.” Elizah sobbed uncontrollably, unable to look at her sister as she covered her face with both hands. Mark Robertson furrowed his brows in confusion . “Who’s Liam?” Julie took a step back. “My fiancé.”

But when we parted from the estate, as Adrian's hand filled mine in the car back seat, something horrifying occurred to me. I could not tell where the performance began and where life itself started. And this, more than Damian's threatening, was the most perilous feature of all. That evening, after I'd stripped in my bedroom, my phone buzzed. A text message from a number I did not know. Unknown: You don't know the real truth about Adrian, do you? I left breathless. Before I even had time to respond, a second text followed. Unknown: Be careful, Valentine. He is not whom you think he is.