Wicked Willows Novels & Stories

Gianna gazed down at her wrist, looking at the small tattoo she got in her teenage years. It was a dandelion, some of the seeds scattered as if blown by the wind, forming a small musical note. Nothing about the drawing was unique, as surely, a lot of women already had the same tattoo as hers now. She had been thinking about erasing it many times over but decided not to. The black ink looked good in her milky skin, but she would rather it stayed hidden.

Caden agreed without hesitation, “Okay, Master Wade! In that case, I’ll rush over and have a look now.” Charlie hummed slightly in response, “I’ll be waiting for your update.” *** The car driven by Sonia arrived at Willow Manor more than twenty minutes later. The house was called Willow Manor because the entire manor was located on the edge of a lake halfway up the mountain that was full of dense weeping willows. It was said to be called Willow Manor, and it was estimated that there were more than twenty to thirty thousand weeping willow trees inside and outside the vicinity of the manor.

I felt as though I had entered a dreamworld, where the boundaries of reality blurred and the magic was palpable. Before me was a vast lake, its shimmering waters stretching far and wide. In the lake's heart, a gentle mound rose, cradling the most magnificent willow tree I had ever laid eyes on. Its branches, robust and graceful, stretched out in every direction, spanning at least 50 feet. The leaves and colorful flowers that adorned these branches danced in the breeze, creating a mesmerizing spectacle.

Willow said as she turned toward her healing room, her long skirts spinning with her. “Like I could leave my leg outside, and it isn’t a horrible nurse job. I got it to stop bleeding on my own this time.” Stacy laughed at the thought that she was being treated like a child. Willow was older, but you didn’t dare call her old. She was a willow of a woman, slim from shoulders to feet. Her mocha skin spoke of her heritage, and her wild black hair spoke of her father’s side of the family. Not many would have guessed that she was all black, though. Most would have said she was half white. The truth was, she was born to a Voodoo Priestess who happened to be in love with a nobleman. One who happened

The sensations were overwhelming, his every move brushing against her most sensitive core. “I’m close…” she whispered, her face flushed with heat. “Yes, baby… let go for me,” he urged, his lips pressed against her neck. Her body convulsed as release tore through her, a deep cry escaping her lips. She trembled, overwhelmed by the sheer force of it. Her surrender pulled Niu over the edge as well. He buried his face against her shoulder, groaning as he lost himself completely in her. They clung to each other, shaking, forgetting everything else—the wedding, the world outside the door, even the vows he had spoken just hours earlier.

Each of the stunt figure that tried to attack could not get to me because the necklace flattened them. Soon there was no one left and not even Willow has shown her face. I was tackled to the ground and I turned to see Willow with a sword in her hand. The moment she raised the sword, I gently pulled out the wolf bane and drive it into her legs. Willow screamed in pain and she begins to convulse till she fell to the floor. I watched as she begins to slowly turn into ashes. In that moment, it registered in my head. The best way to have killed Willow was through the use of wolfsbane

If only she was not a foolish girl before, she could not be reading this shitty diary by that time. Still, she continued reading, "We will be attending the engagement party of Helios Ranford and Tricia Vexmore. They are holding it in the most prestigious hotel here in the city and one of the branches of the Heartland Hotel." Shantala was more than confused because she had no recollection of such a memory. She never saw Helios. And looking at the dress, she was not at all familiar with it and she was so sure of herself that she never wore something like that ever before. She, then, doubted that the last entry was not written by her so she checked the entry before that one to see if her penman

It felt possessive. "You're trembling," he noted, his voice rough. "I'm c-cold," I lied. "You're not cold," he countered, his thumb tracing the strap of my nightgown. "You're scared. Of a little noise." "A little noise killed Whiskers," I whimpered, turning my face into his neck. The stubble there grazed my cheek. "Whiskers was a cat," Damian said, his grip tightening. "You're a woman, Skylar. You're stronger than you think."

Right now there wasn’t a trace of a blush on her cheeks as she lifted my cock in her mouth, swirling her tongue around my head, then sucking in her cheeks as she draws me in all the way. I’ve had women blow me before, but Willow’s ability just knocked them all out of the water. The things she was doing with her mouth had me rimming the edge, just for her to stop and start again. She did this a few times before she opened her eyes to peer at me and I knew this was my cue to blow - and when I did; I grasped her head and emptied myself deep down her throat. Did she swallow? Of course, she fucking did, and she looked proud of it too. Licking her lips, she gets back on top of me, straddling my tw

She questioned as she knew something was odd. “Those are flowers called Azzekeith. A witch’s favorite flower. It’s known to be one of the flower you’d found if you ever have the chance to go to Heaven,” he started his explanation. “Demons loves what they couldn’t have. Those flowers are one of it. But don’t mistaken it as something pretty. It’s a quick poison to kill.” “Then that child is in danger!” Belle gasped, quickly turning back wanting to stop the child from touching the flower for any longer but Leon had stopped her. “Why?” She whispered.