Whispering Vine Novels & Stories

"Good girl, now, call me daddy!" He whispers; his voice sexy as . "Daddy!" I voiced out, but it came out as a whispering threat. "Louder!" He commands. "Daddy!" I yelled softly, feeling the deliciousness of how sins are made. He my forehead and then reaches over to the bedside table for a foil packet. "Stay still, don't move," He orders as he releases my hair. He rips the foil while I'm breathing hard, my blood singing in my veins. The anticipation is exhilarating. He leans down, his weight on me again, and he grabs my hair holding my head immobile. I cannot move. He enticingly traps me, and he's poised and ready to take me once more. "We're going to go real, slow this time, Brie," he breathes. And slowly, he knocks on my sinful entrance of mahogany as he slowly pushes inside of me in ease into me until his length is fully buried in me. He was stretching, filling, relentless. I groan loudly. It feels deeper this time, delectable. I complained again, and he deliberately circles his hips and pulls back, pauses a beat, and then eases his way back in. - Let's talk about the most powerful young bachelor, A business mogul of his time, Jonathan Christopher, De Leon. Combined, JACE DE LEON. After a failed attempt from high school, the courageous plus timid girl left him with a very challenging heart target hunt. A couple of years passed, his hunger for her supplemented after prowling her like what feels like forever, he yearns for her which leads to racing hormones and drifting dark desires of his very own Infatuations. How will the relationship between a powerful casanova and an elegant part-timer be restricted?

it's started because of my addiction but it turned into love making. Yes, a love making. the way we touch each other, the way we look at each other, the way we feel each other. it's shows how much we are in love. it's was my wish but it's turn out into desire to become each other. today we not only make love but also touch each other's soul. He claims me gently with love and respect. after a long love making he lay beside me and took her in his arms. we both were still lost in each other and after some time I slept peacefully in each his arms. . Next day I decided to confess my feeling with him but everything changed. I am madly in love with him, a while before I decided to confess what I fell for him… I love him so much that I can die for him. And you know what I am dying not for him.. but because of him. He is pointing his gun toward me. At the center of my forehead. I am in shock. Everything has changed a couple of time. The person with whom I wanted to spend my whole life, wants to kill me. I am speechless, I don't know what to say , I am staring at him with teary eyes asking him why he did this to me.. To which he replies.. "I HATE YOU" . I don't know how to react. As soon as I respond a bullet strikes me. I fell on the ground whispering my last words "I LOVE YOU SID" . But wait.. This is not ending.. It's just the beginning of our story. A love story of hate..

"Good boys don't wear briefs," the man murmured in a low, seductive tone, causing Ivan's blood to heat up. An involuntary soft moan escaped Ivan's lips as he fought to catch his breath. Upon returning home from the office, he had purposely discarded his briefs, knowing the effect it had on his mysterious lover. The man always preferred him naked, and Ivan complied willingly. Whispering softly, Ivan repeated the words of his dream invader: "Good boys do not wear briefs." His voice was barely audible. The man pulled Ivan's buttocks firmly against his hips, causing a surge of sensations to rush through Ivan's body. "Good boys must be spanked," the man declared, inhaling Ivan's sweet scent, before planting his lips on the exposed soft skin. Ivan trembled and closed his eyes as the man playfully bit and kissed his neck, his hands teasingly exploring his torso, eventually reaching his sensitive, hardened nipples. After weeks of longing and erotic torture, there was one thing Ivan yearned for: Why couldn't his dream progress to the moment when the man actually penetrated him? The point where he claimed Ivan as his own. For at least, Ivan believed that he would truly comprehend what it felt like to be intertwined with him even in his dreams. To have himself be intimately connected with him. However, Ivan was aware that enduring the torture from this man, in his dreams, was the price he must pay for what he did ten years ago. Everything he feared, everything he regretted was coming back to slap him in the face tonight. By 6 p.m. he would be coming face to face with his dream invader at the college ten years reunion party, Shawn Maddox, in flesh.

Every chapter gives you something new, secret affairs, risky relationships, and characters who crave hard and love harder. Think Mafia, Landlord, Alpha, every dirty fantasies you can think of. Professor and student. Neighbor crush. Master and submissive. If you’re 18+ and ready for filthy, wild, messy passion then this ride is for you. - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - 'Confess more while I absolve you.' His fingers plunged into her pussy, still slick from earlier, pumping roughly. Isabella gasped, gripping the kneeler. 'I... I rode his cock, bouncing until he spanked me. Oh God, your fingers... deeper.' Miguel added a third, stretching her, thumb on her clit. He leaned in, whispering, 'Did he make you cum as hard as I did?' She nodded, moaning. 'But not like this. Not in God's house.' He withdrew his fingers, slick with her arousal, and smeared them on his cock before pressing the head to her entrance. 'Kneel properly, face the screen.' She did, ass out toward him. He thrust in, burying himself to the hilt in one go. The booth shook slightly with the force. 'Continue your confession,' he ordered, pulling back and slamming in again. 'Javier... he fingered my ass while fucking me,' she panted, pushing back onto his cock. Miguel growled, jealous fire fueling his thrusts. He grabbed her hips, pounding harder, the wet sounds obscene in the sacred space. 'You're a slut for cock, aren't you? My slut.' His hand snaked around, rubbing her clit in fast circles. 'Yes, Father! Fuck your slut while I confess.' She reached back, spreading her cheeks, inviting him deeper. He spat on her asshole, working a finger in alongside his pistoning cock.

~read the rewrite ‘Celestial Bodies: of Runts and Lycans’ up on my profile~ Xavier sighed and tried to move in front of me without scaring me into backing away from him. "It's okay little one," he said as came closer to me. I felt so tiny in his presence, especially in wolf form. He knelt down and tried to move closer but I whimpered and backed up more into the tree. He sighed again before trying again and I tired to put all my fears away as he once again reached out his hand. I put my head down, hoping that if I couldn't see him, I wouldn't be scared. As I felt his hand on my back and felt tingles explode, I jumped but then relaxed as I got used to it. I calmed down more as he picked up my small frame and held me close before whispering into my ear, "What has happened to you little one?" *~*~*~* Celeste has always been running. When she was little a group of rouges killed most of her pack and the remaining wolves ran, including her. Over the years they have slowly split off until it is only her and her mother running. When the rouges once again find them her mother spared her own life to keep her beloved runt safe. She ran, but eventually she could no longer run for her tiny body hadn't had the energy. Now she has been found by a new pack, The Paramount pack, and she is surprised when she finds her mate. Because how can she, an innocent little runt, have a mate such as Xavier, one of the strongest alphas in the country?

Bianca is dying. Acute myeloid leukemia, stage three. The family doctor told me on the phone—bone marrow transplant, only option, perfect match. Identical twins share ninety-nine percent compatibility. I crushed the diagnosis report. My name was at the top: Gemma Blackwell. But the doctor trembled, whispering apologies. A clerical error. The sick twin was Bianca. The cure was me. I had to get home. Rain lashed the taxi windows. I rehearsed the scene: Father setting down his cigar, Mother gasping, me explaining the mix-up. The report has my name, but the blood work is Bianca's. I can fix this before it's too late. My phone lit up. Family group chat. Father's message was short: [Gemma is terminal. Bianca forbidden from donation. Family decision.] My blood turned to ice. They had seen the misdelivered file. They thought I was the one dying—and they had voted to let me rot. When I pushed open the door and saw Father, I felt it— the temperature drop, the world freezing around me. Tears burned my eyes. I couldn't stop them. "Father," I said, my voice barely steady. "I have a question for you." He looked up from his cigar, annoyed. "If it were Bianca dying," I whispered. "Would you have made me give her my marrow?" The room went silent. He set down the cigar. A long pause. "No," he said finally. "Of course. We have resources. We would find another donor. We would never ask you to take that risk." I smiled a little. Just a small, sad smile. "Good," I said softly. "That's exactly what you said. Don't regret this."

> “Stay still, Little Thorn… I want to taste you slowly.” His voice was velvet and ruin. His mouth, a weapon. And I—fool that I was—leaned closer. Before death wore a suit and called itself a lover, I used to believe in beauty. Before the blood. Before the runes. Before I painted the image that killed my parents—I believed my art could save me. Now I know better. I was just weeks from graduating when the painting came to me like a fever. I didn’t choose it. I didn’t plan it. My hands moved, possessed, dragging symbols I’d never seen and a face I’d never forgotten—his. Eyes red as wine. A crown pierced with thorns. And a girl in the center… me. Offering herself. I signed it with a mark I didn’t recognize. I sold it to a stranger. And days later, my parents were dead—no wounds, no reason, just... gone. The police said stress. I say fate. Now I’m being hunted by a world I didn’t know existed. Vampires with ancient courts and older grudges. Symbols that whisper in my blood. And Lucien D’Aragon—the vampire who says I summoned him with my brushstroke. That I belong to him. He says I’m his prophecy. His ruin. His Little Thorn. But I’m not just prey. Something is waking in me. Something hungry. Something I was never meant to survive. If I give in, I lose everything. If I fight, I might finally learn the truth. About my art. About my bloodline. About what really happened that night. And why he keeps whispering that I was painted for ruin... but made for him.

When I opened my eyes, I found myself supposedly transmigrated to some ancient era. Every morning, before light touched the sky, someone would yank me out of bed to haul trash, chop wood, and do whatever filthiest job needed doing. Somehow, I'd become the lowest-ranked servant in the entire estate. The estate lord's son would climb onto my back and ride me around the courtyard like some pet he was proud to show off. Anyone in the household could hit me, kick me, or shove me aside, and not a single soul would speak up. Five years passed like that, so awful that I almost lost my mind, as if I were living in hell. Then one day, a group of servants cornered me. They didn't bother hiding their intention. The moment I saw their faces, I knew I was in trouble. Fists flew, boots landed, and everything blurred. Just before I passed out, I heard them whispering, "We're going to kill him if we keep this up." "Come on. This place only looks like some old noble estate. It's not an actual one. If he dies here, we're the ones who'll get dragged to court!" "Relax. Ms. Shaw will handle it. The idiot pissed off her childhood sweetheart. Getting tricked into this place is exactly what he deserves." Fear swallowed everything, and the world went dark. When I woke again, the lady of the house had conveniently "returned from visiting her family." The lord threw a grand celebration with tables full of food, wine flowing, and musicians playing like nothing had happened. I carried dishes into the banquet hall and lifted my head. Her face was the same as my wife's, Melissa Shaw. I set the final dish down, stepped closer, and in a voice only she could hear, asked, "Ma'am… are you enjoying your little game?"

Standing against the corner of the wall, her entire drenched body was shivering, both in fear and cold. Her arms were tightly wrapped around herself. Her head was downcast. "Didn't I warn you not to step out of this house without my permission?" A shiver ran down her spine, hearing that intensely rugged voice questioning her. She didn't answer, not only just because she was a mute but also because she didn't know what to answer that person before her. Her shivering turned vigorous when she heard those heavy footsteps coming closer to her. That tall sinewy figure towered her. "You know what will I do to you if I have to repeat my fucking self again," She slowly took her head upward, hearing his threat. Her teary golden brown eyes met with his icy blue ones. His words immediately reminded her what he had done to her last night. Anger and hatred brimmed up in her watery eyes, and she didn't even need to use her words to tell him that. Her tears told him the intensity of her hatred towards him after what he had done to her last night. His jaw clenched. His nefarious gaze hooded. Grabbing her fragile neck with his brawny palm, he pushed her against the wall more and hovered her. "You consider me as a monster, don't you?" Hearing him whispering those words in her ear, her heart froze in terror, realising the worst things he was capable of doing to her. He gripped her neck tightly, causing a tear to slip down from her eyes. He leaned closer to her face, causing their noses to rub against each other. "Then tonight I will really become one for you and will torment this innocence of yours, Kaya Haiden……."

"I knew; I married you on condition!" He hugged her behind, wrapping his hands around her waist. "BUT YOU ARE SOMETHING." He turned her back and pressed her against the mirror, placing his hands on either of her sides and caging her in his arms. "I AM ADDICTED TO YOU!" He looked down at her lips before pressing her lower lip between his fingers. A pleasurable moan escaped from her mouth and she closed her eyes, while making him groan "I thought I'd never love anyone again in my life, but you changed me." He lifted her head, taking her chin in his calloused hand. She shivered in response, and her heart started pounding into her ears. His eyes are darkened with a mixture of feelings. She can't help but notice him. He is 190 cm tall with broad shoulders and a muscular body and his flat abs are touching her body, which is giving her goosebumps. The lean angle of his cheekbones and his strong jaw looked like they could have been sculpted by an artist. She is placing her hand on his chiseled chest, feeling his abs and the warmth of his body spreading through her body as he is standing between her legs. "Your scent makes me crazy!" He bent down, whispering in her ear while biting her earlobe before her cheeks in his hands. It's been a couple of months since they got married, even though she feels shy under him—her fingers are tracing down on his biceps. He grabbed her hair, taking her lips into a chaste kiss. Jenny was a babysitter of the twins of Williams, but one day her boss proposed to her for the marriage to became the mother of his kids. How will she fulfill her husband's desires and journey with twins?