Your Smile Is A Trap Novels & Stories

Christ – POV Enough of the small talk. My jaw was already starting to ache from holding this fake-ass smile. It wasn’t just the words—they were too measured, too diplomatic, like we were all pretending this was a casual visit instead of what it really was: a trap with wine glasses. “Enough pleasantries,” I said with a grin that showed just enough teeth to make it friendly and threatening at the same time. Rising to my feet, I smoothed my jacket. “Let’s eat.”

I couldn't get the image of her face out of my head, especially the way she had stared at me just before she climaxed. Aiden, thank you.... her voice echoed in my thoughts. I had never seen anything more beautiful or sensuous in my life than when she threw her head back in pleasure. I'd die a happy man if I could keep seeing her come to me over and over. Or maybe I'll get a chance to see her smile for me......once. I shook my head in an attempt to banish that thought, but the way she was smiling while talking to Mike, the way she always did with others. She appeared so relaxed and almost happy. I could never get her to smile like that; all I could get her to do was be afraid or pout. I poure

“Not just talking. You were smiling.” I paused for half a second. Damn Marcus and his semi functioning memory. Tariq dropped his fork like it was breaking news. “Smiling? Like actually smiling? Not the polite one or the fake public one, but the real kind?” “I smile all the time,” I muttered. “False,” Rafeal said. “You smirk, you glower, you look vaguely constipated sometimes, but smiling? That’s rare, my guy.” Tariq barked a laugh. “So who was she?”

I don't have friends - I am not sure if that is something that I should be proud of. Well, it's not like I don't try to approach my classmates or try to interact. It’s just that I have a weird smile. No, it's not the type of smile that involves weird and rotten teeth - I have perfectly white and straight teeth. You see, my smile is fatal and dangerous. Just one look at these weapons and even the ferocious growl of a mountain lion would seem harmless. If this were a comic, I would call this attack: The Killer Smile.

A smile smeared on my face. Boom!

Now my own mom want's me to have a one night stand with a total stranger, I just hate this woman. ****** Is it 402 or 403 fuck my battery is flat how will I know the lodge she sent, well let me go for 403 it sounds familiar, I opened the room staggeredly, nervous and shivered the room is damn dark. A hand held me from behind. "Good day sir" I said shaking. "what do you want?" I could smell the heavy alcohol. I'm short on words. " sir I love you " I said reluctantly. " get lost" fuck how am I gonna do this.

I can't even do anything, at least not with the feeling of being used. "What is up with you, Nala?" he asks. I faked a smile as I respond. "Nothing, Don I am fine," "You can't fool me. I know when your smile isn't real and I don't think I've seen you give me a real smile in a long time," he says like he is actually hurt. "I am fine," I reply, hoping he would just leave me the hell alone. "You can tell me what is bothering you." Really? How do I say I don’t even know what exactly the problem is or that I feel you are using me as a child.

"You should be grateful. You would've been dead long ago if my face hadn't been ruined so suddenly." I looked at the madness in her eyes and listened to her speak of Adrian as if he were some flawless prize. I nearly started giggling. 'Perfect? Is she seriously calling him perfect? A violent drunk of a man who breaks me down day by day before waking up with his lips dripping with insincere apologies? Fine. If that is the perfection she wants, then she can have him.' Sienna glanced aside. Chester Middleton, who had been waiting nearby, stepped forward and placed the anesthesia mask over my mouth and nose.

“What-” “Shh, look at the camera and smile.” I promise you will never smile like that again. Trust me

Like watching in front of some N*****x thriller but I'm not in front of the TV—I'm the dumb protagonist doing all the wrong things and people are screaming at the TV. I hear myself saying before I can stop it: "What's the catch?" His smile seeps onto his face slow, reptilian. Not joy. No. Amusement, maybe. That kind of pleasure you feel when someone walks into a trap you've set with precise precision. "No catch," he growls. "You stay married. You smile. You play the part of a devoted wife. In return, you receive—well. Let's just say… a fortune." His fingers lace together as he reclines, still watching me like I'm a prey he’s already devoured.