Wicked Whisper Novels & Stories

"There are voices of people that linger when their lives are unjustly taken from this earth," Crystal said. "Voices of blood, and people who can't get justice for themselves. These voices belong to the souls of the dead, and the innocent. They can haunt you, torment you, and even try to kill you if they are strong enough. They are like air. They can't be seen. They can't be touched. They can be felt, but mostly through one's hearing. They glide in the air. The strong wind can stop them, and so can fire. Nature doesn't necessarily stop them, but anything too loud for you to hear them can temporarily stop them. And that is why they are called whispers.

he whispers, his voice oily and dark. He releases me, looking satisfied by the fear in my eyes. Then, he strokes a thumb over my parched lips. He pushes his finger into my mouth, forcing it past my teeth. I wish I could bite him. I wish I could chew his finger down to the bone. But I am terrified of the retort. I know what happens when I trigger him. So, I am obedient. I open my mouth and allow him to do as he wishes, my very bones trembling from the agony of the humiliation.

"Please, someone, help me. I can't see. It's so dark." Amon's shadows pushed into the room first, illuminating it. The Whisper materialized in the center; it was a vaguely humanoid shape made of compressed sound waves. When it saw us, the woman's voice distorted into something cracky. "Help. Me. Please." Then it lunged. Amon caught it with his shadows, but the creature was slippery and hard to hold. I moved in from the side, and my knife found its core. It was a frequency generator. The blade struck true. The Whisper's form destabilized, sound waves scattering in all directions before it dissolved completely.

she cried, rushing toward her. But Sandra remained rigid, her body frozen as if trapped in an invisible grip. The whispers that once brushed softly against her ears now erupted into agonizing screams, each one slicing through her skull. Her eyes dropped to her hand. She saw the blood smeared across her skin, the crimson burning itself into her vision. The walls seemed to tilt, the world spinning in a grotesque blur. Faces twisted, voices fractured into a chorus of shouts and sobs, all bleeding into one another until everything drowned in red.

Reggie winked at her before turning his eyes to the room. She couldn't sit still. This felt so intimate and hot and it made her embarrassingly horny. A few minutes later, Reggie turned back to her. He studied her for a long moment, thumb tracing her jaw. Then he kissed her slowly, claiming her right there in the shadows of the booth. His tongue slid against hers, tasting of whiskey and possession. When he pulled back, his voice was rough. “Stay with me. No panicking,” he whispered against her lips. “Let me show you the rest.”

He whispered, wickedly. “ W-What?? “ I breathed, shakily. “ That, You want me to lick your pussy.” He whispered and I gasped at the filthy language. “ Y-You.. I… Not that I was being acquaintanced with such a filthy word for the first time , because I've read it a lot of times, but because coming out of his mouth, it was so hot that I felt my clit throbbing even wilder. “ I don't have much time princess. I have to go back to the office. Just say what you want me to do and I'll happily oblige.” He flashed me a smile, a wicked one.

Sierra's POV Wolves & Whispers is everything I hate—red neon lights pulsing like a heartbeat, bass-heavy music pounding against my skull, and the thick scent of cigars and alcohol choking the air out of my lungs. Different scents of Wolves mingling in the air. Strippers dressed in fishnet, straddling men and twisting around a pole on the platform. If it was yesternight, I'd have storm out of this place immediately, but not anymore.

I whispered, my voice some sort of plea as he began to pump faster. "Come, piccolina, come for me," he whispered , leaning closer to me to kiss my breasts. And I came, my pussy tightening around his fingers, his name a scream in my mouth. He covered my mouth with a kiss to trap most of the noise. I lay there in bed, staring at the ceiling and basking in the after math of my orgasm.

it murmured, ethereal laughter echoing against the stone, almost hypnotic as it reveled in the power of twisted narratives. It lingered near Amelia, whispering sinister secrets that unspooled like tendrils around her. “Ah, the princess,” it purred, voice smooth as silk. “You hold the key to breaking more than just a werewolf curse.” Its tone was laced with hunger, a longing that curled through the shadows wrapping around her, squeezing until she gasped. She could hear the whispers clawing through the air—echoes of regrets and fears that wrapped themselves around her throat, constricting her voice. “You will never be enough,” a haunting voice hissed, echoing through the mist like smoke curlin

One devastatingly sorrowful howl. It sounded like whoever made the noise was mortally wounded, heartbroken even. I hoped beyond hope that it wasn't a sign of Pip's demise and was almost relieved when I heard another second howl, the sound completely different from the first. It went on like that, another and another joining until there were so many I could no longer distinguish between them. The sound sent chills down my spine and filled my heart with sorrow. I knew what it meant. I could feel their pain in the wind. One of them was dead, and they were mourning the loss. I didn't know what to think. All I could do was pray that I could sense Pip, but there was still nothing. The nothingness