Words To Nights In White Satin Novels & Stories

Ink on her waist, Old school like renaissance art, Brown. Strokes on sheets; Tina turner was never sang so sweet Naked in bed, Petals, candles and perfumes that addled with your head Chestnut afro, splayed across your spine, An angel slept beside you. Foolhardy you, fell asleep, too. Forgetting, angels are the breeze, Coming and going as they please—Amanda.

Not hatred. Only loneliness. "I've waited longer than stars have existed." "I've watched every version of you." "I watched you become a king." "A prisoner." "A Keeper." "An Author." "And every single time..." "...you forgot me." The words struck Adrian harder than any weapon. Forgot... Again. Always forgetting. The room began shaking. The walls dissolved into endless darkness. Outside... countless stars blinked out together. One after another. As though someone was erasing the night itself. The White Book suddenly appeared beside Adrian.

She was sobbing uncontrollably. Joshua rapidly approached her, and she couldn't stop him this time. He gently wrapped his arms around her. "Is this how you see me? A bitch? A slut? A low-class woman? Damn you, Joshua." She sobs as Joshua hugs her firmly and apologizes repeatedly. "It's your fault. Y-you don't pay attention to me anymore. Y-you don't care about me. You don't want me anymore," Danica sobbed. "Damn you, Joshua Dela Cruz, damn you!"

Like the night before, she’s wearing a plain white t-shirt to sleep. Her hair is strewn wildly around her shoulders, her eyes puffy, and her mouth swollen with sleep. “Declan?’ She mumbles sleepily. Stepping close, I lean down and kiss her lips. Her arms wrap around me as I usher her into the room. Releasing her lips, I whisper gently. “I didn’t come here for this, but you’re so beautiful. I can’t stop thinking about you.” Santana’s eyes smolder as she gazes into mine. A soft groan escapes my lips when she leans close and mutters. “It doesn’t have to go beyond tonight. Let’s just make tonight ours and go back to being familiar strangers in the morning.”

I've heard of girls making thousands of dollars in just a night with a politician or celebrity in a private room I've also heard that Wet Nights was a place where pain turns into currency and every single move you make to a client can even earn a Ferrari from them. I've heard that ladies who work at Wet Nights are freaking wealthy now. Wet Nights is currently the talk of the town and now, standing before me is the club’s main enforcer and dealmaker—they call him by the name, Bishop. This is a dream come true for me…meeting Bishop has been one of my greatest prayers. Bishop collected a bundle of cash from one of his men, tossed it gently onto my lap, “This should silence you.” Bishop mumbled