When He Reads To Me Book Novels & Stories

"But tonight I don't want to pretend. Don't want to be who everyone expects me to be." "Then who do you want to be?" "I don't know. Maybe just... myself. If I even know who that is anymore." I sat beside him. "Tell me something real. Something you've never told anyone." He was quiet for a moment. "My mother used to read to me every night. Even when I got older. Eleven, twelve years old. She'd come to my room and read. Said it was our time. Just us." "What did she read?" "Everything. Adventure stories. Mysteries. Poetry sometimes." His voice softened.

We played with his toys for a few hours. "Venessa, Will you read me a story?" He asked me with his eyes full of hope. I smiled and nodded. He ran out and came back with a book in his hand. He climbed the bed and laid beside me, putting his head on my hand. I started to read the book.

he says, “and I’ve met you.” “You’ve read Black Beauty!?” “I have a kid!” he laughs, spreading out his hand. “And I was one, once! I’ve read all kids of children’s books. Probably more than you.” “Fat chance,” I murmur, snuggling closer to him and sipping tea as he tightens his arm around me. “Okay, then, what do you like?” “Honestly,” he says, his voice low and considering. “I don’t really know. I haven’t thought about it.”

I asked, then he picked up a book. ”By reading books. Who knows you might just find them interesting," He said before letting out a smile.

I ask, looking over at him sitting next to me. He looks down at the book in my hands for a moment, before giving me a nod. "Sure." He says. "I want you to read." I smile over at him, holding the book out for him to take. He gives me a small smirk, before taking the book. I move over closer to him as he began to read out loud. I lean over, resting my head down on his shoulder, looking at the pages as he turns them. I listen to the sound of his smooth voice as he read to me. My eyes glide over the words on the pages, following the sound of his voice. His voice has the perfect tone to it. Not too deep and not too light, sounding like a sweet lullaby to my ears.

I tell him, and he nods, biting his bottom lip, looking remorseful. "I know. I'm clearly not thinking straight, I'm sorry." He whispers brushing my hair out of my face as we lay on my bed facing one another. I sigh, licking my lips, "It's fine; it's done now." "Will you do something for me?" He asks his thumb, massaging my wrist. I nod, and his eyes search my face for a long moment before he speaks. "Will you read to me?" I look at him, surprised but nod. "Sure, what would you like me to read to you?"

Get ready to immerse yourself in these erotic scenes that'll cause you to forget about your physical surroundings and make you look for your partner. I'll constantly be updating, so make sure you add this book to your library; except you're ready to miss out on these awesome erotic vignettes. Cheers to all my unique and prospective readers. Your like, comment and follow means a thousand lot to me, you can't imagine. Read the vignettes and tell me the one you find the most interesting. Feel free to read it as many times as you want- all till you find pleasure.

I opened it to the page where I’d left off and I started reading aloud. Not loudly. Just above a whisper. Enough to fill the space between the chair and the bed without competing with the machines. I read because reading aloud is what I did when Harrison was small and couldn’t sleep. In the council flat, in the single bed, with his feet pressed against my shins and his breathing the loudest sound in that room. I read him everything—newspaper articles, cereal boxes, the ingredients on shampoo bottles when I’d run out of library books. He’d fall asleep to my voice.

“¿Cómo estás? (How are you?)” “Bien, mamá (fine, mama),” he answered. “I hope you didn’t give Grandpa much trouble.” He shook his head and said, “No, mamá.” He replied, and I kissed his forehead again. “Go shower; we will wait for you.” I did as told and returned twelve minutes later, and after saying grace, we ate. “What shall I read you now?” I asked and skimmed through the books on the shelf. I already tucked Ocean into bed, and all that was left was reading him the book of his choosing.

he growls. “I’m going to read a book for you, and you have no other choice than to listen.” A frustrated sound leaves his lips. “What have I done to deserve this...” “The book ended with a dramatic cliffhanger,” I respond in a bright tone. “I’m sure you’ll love it.” He groans, and I open the book. I won’t give up on him. And, since he can’t escape, I’m going to be reading for him every single day. Maybe this will help him heal?