Unforgettable.

Unforgettable.

  • WpView
    Reads 61
  • WpVote
    Votes 2
  • WpPart
    Parts 2
WpMetadataReadOngoing5m
WpMetadataNoticeLast published Wed, Mar 24, 2021
Davina Grey Cullen is princess of Scotland. She was just like any other 18 year old girl. Loved reading especially romance. She always wondered when she was going to have a romance story of her own, she has never experienced anything like it let alone really kiss a boy. Her life has become uneventful as she got older and her parents hid more from her. But soon everything changed for her when she finally met prince Tatum Dalton. Polar opposites from each other but that's why they worked. He was dark and mysterious. Handsome to say the least. She thought this was it she wouldn't have to meet another man in her life, but what she didn't realize at all is that she didn't know anything about his life at all. She didn't even really know anything about her own life. Everything took a turn and she was faced with things she has only read in books. Loss and heartbreak. Rage and tears. Domination. Yet through everything in the end all she wanted was him. He was her forever always. He was unforgettable. *Mature content* Love you all<3
All Rights Reserved
#112
hook-ups
WpChevronRight
Join the largest storytelling communityGet personalized story recommendations, save your favourites to your library, and comment and vote to grow your community.
Illustration

You may also like

  • The King's Captive
  • Beneath
  • Behind The Walls
  • The Noble Rebel Vampire (The Immortal Series Book 2)
  • Butler Charming
  • SO WRONG ITS RIGHT
  • All I Need ✔️
  • When Blood Rises
  • Deal With The Devil

My hand lifts without permission, hovering just short of the canvas. Not touching-God, even I know better-but close enough that it feels like heat radiates from the paint. "...Antonio?" Diego's voice is wary. I don't answer. I can't. I'm staring at her the way men stare at omens. "Diego," I whisper, "who is she?" Diego steps beside me, eyes widening. He whistles low. "She's... wow. She's-" "I know." "Antonio," he says, putting a hand on my shoulder, "you look deranged." "I feel deranged." He laughs, then cuts himself off when he sees I'm not joking. My pulse is hammering. I don't even know this girl's name, and yet something in me is clawing forward, hungry, fierce, desperate. I don't believe in fate. I don't believe in destiny or signs or prophecies or whatever nonsense my tutors preached when I was a boy. But looking at her- I almost do. "She's the Princess of Prussia," Diego finally says, reading the tiny plaque at the bottom. "Victoria." Victoria. The name hits like a strike to the chest.

More details
WpActionLinkContent Guidelines