Romans & histoires Wicked Heels

Carefully threading near the hole, she had forgotten how she had worn heels today and slipped on the wet soil, almost causing her to fall on her bottom. Leon caught her before she fell, holding her waist tightly with one hand that caused her breaths to shudder. She could imagine how easy it would be for him to pin her down and crush her waist. His arm was powerful enough to squeeze the life out of her. Although she would want to not provoke him, she noticed how often he had lied. He might not be related to Rachel’s death but Belle wasn’t naive not to notice his hidden agenda with the contract he had made with her.

“It is wicked.” He kissed the throbbing spot on her neck and felt her shiver. “Why would something so natural be wicked? You think it is wicked because the church wants women to only know their husbands. That doesn’t mean what we are doing is wrong. This is what we were made for. As long as we are both enjoying it, why is it wrong? Let’s enjoy creating some wicked memories to keep secret together.”

I look at the neat black hair between her legs , she gives me a seductive smile hooking her leg around my waist. " I need you so badly Azriel." she moans seductively in my ear. A growl erupts from my chest as I push her on the floor. " Don’t you dare ever touch me you filth." I growl glaring at her. Marica is a nymph who has power of beauty to wrap any men around her finger , she is the exact definition of beauty but from inside it's all dark and filthy. " Azriel." she yells standing up. " Cover yourself up Marica because your seducing spells dont work on me." I roll my eyes.

DIFFERENT AND DIFFICULT DREAMS Kimberlee wore the heels but couldn't get up. “C’mon doll, you can do it.” Kiki encouraged and she tried one more time but couldn't. “I don't think this is for me, these heels are too high.” Kim sadly sighed but Ana walked to her. “Don’t be deceived honey, heels are meant to be possessed, they are not made for you. So make it yours.” Kiki swayed his hips with the snap of his fingers.

All of a sudden, he dropped her before walking backward. Shantala, on the other hand, tried to get back on her feet but had to struggle a bit because of the weight of her dress. "You just didn't do that," she muttered loud enough for Hyperion to hear. "I just did, though." Upon standing on both feet, she shot him a glare before taking off her white heels that were also decorated with water droplet-shaped crystals. This time, it was her turn to grin towards the man who came to realize what she was about to do. The moment Hyperion turned on his heels was also the time Shantala threw her shoes but she missed twice, giving her no choice but to run after him.

She was wearing a sleeveless shirt along with black loose trousers, with scratch marks on her arms and some bruises that hadn't healed or faded yet from the latest training sessions. Rebecca's hair fell back on her sleek waist. She moved her fingers in her hair to move them out from her eyes. She crossed the corridor and walked towards the stairs. Rebecca's wolf wanted to kill the person who disturbed her peaceful state of mind. She was walking barefoot, and the tiles of the floor were cold. Rebecca wrapped her arms around her body, rubbing the cold skin of her arms to get some heat. She should wear a sweater.

It was exactly what I needed. I slipped it on, the velvet cool and soft against my skin. I tied the waist belt, cinching it in. It hugged my curves in a way that made me feel feminine rather than "frumpy." I paired it with turquoise velvet stilettos - shoes with a heel so sharp they could be classed as a concealed weapon. I hadn't worn heels like this since before Harry was born. As I stepped into them, I felt my posture shift, my spine lengthening.

Detective Elena Cruz didn’t rush. People who rushed usually wanted something. Cruz preferred to let people wonder what she already knew. The lobby of Blackwood Tower gleamed with the sterile perfection of billionaire ambition—white marble floors, chrome fixtures, quiet security guards pretending not to watch everyone who walked through the doors. She paused just inside the entrance and looked up. Forty-two floors. A monument to power. Also, she suspected, a monument to secrets. “Detective Cruz?” A young assistant hurried toward her, slightly out of breath.

Kate’s face hardened, but he just smirked, unfazed. “Does Claire know you’re here? What are you really doing in this place?” she snapped. He only shrugged, grinding lazily with her to the beat. “This place is for people who need alcohol and sweat just to survive another day without going insane,” he said quietly. “And tonight? That’s me.” His eyes slid down her body, lingering shamelessly on her breasts peeking from her top, then lower, to her skirt. He smirked. “Damn, babe. Gorgeous tits.”

And I wanted to do this for him over and over again. “I don’t wear heels to be taller,” I murmured, brushing my hand across the hard plane of his chest. “I wear them because they strengthen my body's look. They make me stand straighter. Walk with confidence.” His eyes swept over me, and I felt the burn of it everywhere. Heat crawled up my skin as if his gaze alone could set me on fire. And maybe I wouldn’t mind burning if it was because of him. “And since you’re taller than me anyway, I don’t see the problem.” I tilted my head up at him, lips curling into a teasing smile. “It just means something else.”