Wanting Book Novels & Stories

“What matters is what happens if these pictures get out. At your own wedding? That would be… tragic.” A surge of panic tightened in Clara’s chest. “What do you want?” A slow, predatory grin crept across Mark’s face. “You.” Ben stepped forward, his grin predatory, his eyes gleaming with cruel amusement. “What do you mean, me?” Clara repeated, her voice trembling. Ben chuckled darkly, closing the distance between them. “We want your pussy, Clara. Simple as that.” Another man, Parker, licked his lips and added, “Yeah, we want a taste of that slutty hole of yours. You remember how much you loved taking cocks, don’t you?”

I headed to the door. "I need to go Wenziel." he looked at me like… as if I was in sudden sadness. @DEATH WISH Thank you for supporting my Novel! You may also read my complete Novel, (hmmm... while waiting for an update) Title: TAMING THE DANGEROUS CEO THE DEVILISH BILLIONAIRE FATED TO MARRY THE DEVIL ALPHA KING CHECKMATE Thank you so much! Want to hear your review! THANKS A LOT!

The idea that the wanting is mine and not Peculiar's, not some transplant glitch, but mine just sits in my stomach like something swallowed wrong. Because wanting is what got me hurt before. Wanting Ryan is what made me give away my first heart. I handed it over at twenty, literally let them cut it out of my chest, because I wanted him so badly I couldn't imagine my life without him in it and look where wanting got me.

As it stands, right now I am neither. “I would make you an honorary pack member, I should have don’t it years ago but I never really crossed my mind.” “I see, but still, it wouldn’t make any sense for your pack to help me.” “I would be involved so that means that they would fight.” “But I don’t want that. I don’t want someone to fight for me just because they are told to.” I reply. I feel that way about everything, but making others fight for me while I run away just does not sit right with me. I would much rather face this alpha head on.

But who am I kidding, there is no such word as easy in the mafia. By the end of their meeting, I already had wicked ideas coming together in my head waiting to be unleashed. I can't wait for the action. Damsel in distress about to be their distress.

"who are you and what do you want?!" Amber commanded even though though fear could clearly be heard in her voice. She tried to look tough even though she was a wreck deep inside her. "Oh you are a tough one hmm, I love tough ones especially when I crack them. Don't you just love that?" The second man spoke looking at her from head to toe then looking at the third man like seeking for approval from him. "Yes I love that very much, and this one will be very fun am sure" he responded while licking his lips and walking towards her, he squatted to her lever then started brushing his finger against her face like rubbing dew from a leaf.

I want her pregnant with my child. I want her anger. I want her laughter. I want her smiles. I want her tears. I want her selflessness. I want her kindness. I want her generosity. I want her body. I want her mind. I want her soul. I want her heart. I want. Want. Want.

More importantly, why didn't I see it yesterday I came to collect herbs for my potions? Looking around to make sure no one's insight, I collected as much Ude as I will need for the rest of the season *if you wonder why I want to take it all at the same time? I will tell you something no one knows about me, but they suspect all the same. I have a wishing power. Likewise, I don't know what to call that, really; it's the only explanation of what unfolds around me. I get what I wish for or long for, except love and acceptance from the villagers; you can say my gift or curse only works on things, not humans.

SEX STARVED HOUSEWIFE & HER STEPSON _____________________ Sabrina My thighs moved against each other, rubbing my sensitive clit and a moan almost slipped past my lips. I was so damn horny. Probably shouldn't have read that spicy book my best friend, Sloane, recommended last week but I was bored. And the sex scenes had been filthy, dirty—god, I wanted that for myself. It’s been months since Graham touched me and over three years since I've last had pleasurable sex.

Alone in the dark with a body that still wants. Not him. Not specifically. The woman I was when I was wanted. The version of myself that existed inside his attention – confident, electric, the girl who wore his name across her shoulders and walked into rooms like she’d earned the space. I want HER back. I press my hand flat against my stomach. Below the ribs. Where the wanting lives. Not desire for someone – desire for proof. Proof that the body still works. That the machinery of feeling hasn’t been dismantled by weeks of silence and cruelty and a word – detour – that lives in my chest like shrapnel.