Unscramble Touched Novels & Stories

I said carefully. “There’s a first time for everything,” he winked. “I trust you, Miss Brooks.” And then, gently—like a whisper over the rim of his wineglass—he added, “Don’t feel guilty. Just focus on living a happier life. You’ve already spent enough of it surviving.” Something stirred inside me. Something quiet and aching. For a long time, I thought the only person who could make me feel seen like that was Elliot. But now, it was Mr. Ivory who had reached into the cracks of me and said: You deserve better.

She didn’t flinch. Instead, she reached out. Adrian tensed as her fingers brushed over the scarred skin. Her touch was soft. Gentle. Warm. “You’re healing,” she whispered. His throat tightened. “Am I?” She nodded. “Yes. And not just on the outside.” For the first time in a long time, Adrian wanted to believe her. The day passed in a blur. Neither of them spoke about the moment they had shared outside, but the weight of it lingered between them.

He smirks, tracing his thumb along my lips. I shudder when his smooth palm makes contact with my thigh, sliding up. "W….what are you doing?" My lips tremble as the question slips out. The way my skin burns at his touch is strange and the burning sensation that feels within me causes more confusion. Why am I vulnerable to his touch? "I can smell the rejection all over you." He sniffs as he kisses my nape and a moan leaves my mouth before I can control it. The heat intensifies and my wolf's thuds are relentless.

He said his voice brushing my ears. Raising my head to look at his face. I whispered. "Really?" "Yes. You handled it well." He said his hand brushing through my hair. I unconsciously leaned into his touch. A touch I'd grown comfortable in. And for the first time in a long while, I felt… not exactly safe, but not alone either.

He played with my hair, twirling my curls around his tattooed fingers. I took a deep breath, involuntarily picturing the scene of him pressing my face into the glass table and fucking me from behind. The thought was intrusive. And too vivid for comfort. I did want that. “Brave will be touching you here,”he murmured, letting the back of his fingers graze my collar bones. “And here” he moved over my exposed cleavage,touching the skin softly and I let him, because he was hot. “Knowing that all these men are watching”. He nodded his head to the left,into the group of men he wasn’t even looking at.

Heat. Not warmth—heat. It crawled under my skin like fire made flesh. My whole body buzzed, the air thick with the scent of sweat and sex. The scent filled the room around me like smoke from a candle. Amber light draped the room, soft and gold like sin wrapped in velvet.

The can tipped, spilling trash all over me. Alora came over, her nose wrinkled in disgust. She slipped on a glove and grabbed my face, her nails digging in and leaving a trail of blood. Then, out of nowhere, the street was filled with the sound of cars slamming on their brakes. Eric hurried down the stairs, his eyes quickly taking in the mess before he rushed to Alora's side. He gently touched her shoulder, his voice dripping with concern. "Alora, what's going on? Who did this to you?"

“Luckily for you, those are the exact words I wanted to hear” (Ben. You’re back? What are you looking for here?) “Ben. Ahh, you dun come back? Wetin you dey find here?”. He asked in Nigerian pidgin, revealing two broken teeth at the front row of his brown teeth stained from tobacco and weed. Terror seized my heart at the sight of him. He was a terrifying bulky man with ugly tattoos all over his arms and knife scars arrayed on the left side of his face.

“Amelia, you need to understand. These people are going to be mad at you. I don’t want you to get hurt. Please, you need to tell us if anyone comes” I nodded my head, “Ok, I’m sorry. I will tell you” He smiled, “Thank you, So what are we having for lunch?” “Pumpkin soup, but I cut my finger” I lifted my finger up towards his face to show him. “Hmm, alright. Guess I’m cutting the rest of the pumpkin then!” I chuckled and handed him the knife. He started to cut the pumpkin and I sorted out the pot. I began to put the already cut pieces into the water as it boiled. He wrapped his arms around me while I slowly stirred the pot.

Hector teasingly whispers, before he moves away and let me take off his shirt. As soon it’s off of him, I throw his shirt somewhere, and quickly hug him. I kissed his neck and stroke his tattoo using my finger. He bites my shoulders when I did that and cupped my sex. I trembled and hugged him tighter; he began to stroke the very middle of my wetness with his finger. I felt weakly and just lean all my weight against him, hugged him, and wrap my arms around his shoulders, catching my breath and feeling his touches.