Whisk Sunset Paradise Novels & Stories

Not long after I left Dawson Corporation, Shane Dawson sent me an address and a photo of our wedding venue: a Spanish castle named Castillo de Sol. The picture showed the castle’s facade consisting of ivory limestone walls and a blazing golden dome, luxury carved into every line. Right in the center of the shot stood Tania Collins, her curls tumbling over her shoulders, a crimson gown hugging her figure. My fingers hovered over her radiant smile for two long seconds. The absurdity sank in like ice.

Marco's POV: "Isn't it… beautiful? Watching the sunset like this…" she whispered weakly, her voice shaking as if every word weighed heavily on her fragile body. Tears streamed endlessly down my face—silent, unstoppable. We were sitting on the sand, her head resting gently on my shoulder, and my arm wrapped securely around her waist. Together, we quietly watched the sun slowly disappear beyond the horizon. This was it. Her final wish… to see the sunset one last time.

Gibbous Flat White for Levine, Short Macchiato Lune for Huxley, Cappuccino Pink Moon for Krysyle, Mocha New Moon for Michane, Red Blood Salted Caramel for me, and Crescent Americano for Clint. “The usual coffee?” Clint asked, popping out of the blue. I smiled at him and answered, “Yeah, it’d be a cold night for us. So I made these.” “Mari, remember 2 movies tonight. But if you can’t manage, it’s okay to close the cafe by 8 pm. We have to go now.” I said and left the cafe with Clint. He’s been driving for a while now and it’s already lunch. We went to a drive-thru and decided to park and eat for a little while and he started driving again.

The president smiled widely for his men, in his head, he was taking an inventory check for the most suitable option the ship had to offer. 'I will paint the witch's body into unbecomingness tonight.' **** Paradise was an island that constantly enjoyed the sun, even when it was winter, there were many days when the sky wore a very clear blue. It was still a very green place to live in even with the absence of rain, the nymphs of earth and water were more than enough for the prosperity of the plants and animals, but this was not the case today. Dark clouds covered the island from all directions, the women in the village closed their doors and stayed inside while the nymphs shed tears that refl

I'm pulled from my reverie by the sounds of flirtatious laughter. I don't bother looking. I keep my normal stony-faced demeanor and focus on the way the ripples in my whiskey match the waves in the distance. The waves that reflect the pastel pink and orange sky. Unsteady, just like my mindset. I'm still on the fence about what my next steps are. I tap the glass on the table, the warm Caribbean breeze flowing around me. The sunset is beautiful, better than anything I've seen from home. The clear teal and turquoise water is tinted by the colors of the sun, making it inviting, even now.

Go through the motions, brush teeth, wash face since we're skipping the shower today. A quick glance in the mirror, and Whitney was headed downstairs with a pitter-patter sensation in her chest. A spicy, Southwestern smell had completely taken over the Bogard's kitchen as Nina cooked and simultaneously boogied her heart out to a Spanish playlist booming from Dalton's Pandora account. The backless red and white polka dot sundress she was wearing gave off some serious pin-up girl vibes, and Whitney was living for it. She made a mental note to invite her out shopping once everything had a chance to calm down for a while.

The romance wove through the eroticism. "I love you, Vincent. This place, us, it's everything." He stopped, cupping her face. "You're the part of my world that I can’t let go, kitten. I'd conquer stars for you." They kissed again, slower, tongues exploring, his cock pressing insistently against her thigh. As twilight deepened, they made their way to the Sunset Bar, an open-air haven perched on the cliff, lanterns glowing like fireflies. The bar hummed with soft music, they claimed a secluded table overlooking the crashing waves. Drinks arrived, crisp and chilled, followed by a leisurely dinner, platters of island flavors shared intimately.

We went straight to a VIP couch on the 2nd floor and settled down in the most corner part which is dimmer. "Chivas Regal? Louis? Whiskey or Bourbon?" Astrielle asked, seconds after we settled on our seats. Carline waves her forefinger. "Uhm, no hard drinks for me, Astrielle." "Maybe Sangria?" I suggest. "Mojito to me," replied, Carline. "Alright! Mojito and Sangria, then?" Astrielle said and went down. When she came back , she's holding a bottle of Whiskey and our orders was served by a waitress.

A subtle feeling of dismay threatened to smother the hope humming in her chest at the realisation that her weekly outdoor allowance had been used up. “Come here.” Parisa nearly started upright. Forgoing the idea of masking indifference at her reply, she began climbing off the bench whilst wrestling futilely with the shoal wrapped about her limbs like vines. “Really?” Yarrow shrugged, “Sun should be settin’ by now anyway.” And it was— the evening light now lingered along the rooftop in soft hues of tangerine and blushing pink, warm as sun-hot stones pressed against her skin. “Fore you come on up slap on some that sunscreen o’er there.”

The whole of Paris was spread before her again, only this time it seemed that it was just for Clare and not for a thousand other tourists jostling her at a rail at the Eiffel tower. The sight was all too commonplace to Jean. He was busying himself putting things away, tidying up while Clare took in the magnificent view. What a fantastic place this would be to paint in, she thought to herself. There was at least as much inspiration in the colour of this sunset over the city as she had found in the everchanging sea at St Ives. Clare breathed it in, trying to burn on her memory forever the picture of the sky turning pink over Paris in the autumn, before the sun disappeared for the night behind