A night with Midnight
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MaduroEm andamento<5 mins
Última atualização qui, abr 4, 2024
The clinking of ice against glass was the only sound in the dimly lit bar, a melody woven between hushed conversations and the occasional burst of laughter. Isabella perched on the worn leather stool, a ruby cocktail swirling in her hand untouched. Her reflection in the mirrored wall showed a woman at odds - the tailored black dress screamed control, yet her eyes held a flicker of nervous anticipation.
Across the room, a figure caught her eye. He wasn't conventionally handsome, but there was an air of quiet confidence about him, accentuated by the way he held himself. Their gazes locked for a brief moment, a spark leaping in the air before he inclined his head in a subtle acknowledgement.
Isabella felt a warmth rise in her cheeks. Taking a fortifying sip of her drink, she straightened in her seat, then rose with a determined air. Her heart hammered a frantic rhythm against her ribs as she navigated the crowded bar, her heels clicking a staccato counterpoint to the music.
He leaned back in his chair, one corner of his mouth lifting in a faint smile. "Can I buy you a drink?"
"Actually," Isabella said, surprising herself with her bluntness, "I was hoping you could offer me a different kind of service."
His smile widened, a flicker of something akin to amusement dancing in his eyes. "And what kind of service would that be?"
Isabella met his gaze, her voice a husky whisper. "The kind that comes with a good night's sleep."
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He swiped my sweat-soaked hair off my neck, resting his lips against my ear. His fiery breaths blew across my earlobe. My body shuddered once again, craving more of him. "You're not the first woman to think she could seduce me into bed because of who I am, what I write. And you won't be the last." He gave a small chuckle, pulling down my dress, so it covered me. "But," he said in a low growl, "so far...... you're my favorite." Breaths poured from my lips at those words. My heart fluttered inside my pounding chest. His favorite, my brain stuck to his words like glue. Clinging to the small hope we'd continue this somewhere else, more than once. We stayed in that position for a moment before his body heat disappeared from my back. He lit a cigarette in front of me, the flash of the lighter illuminating his flushed, sweat-soaked face. I leaned against the brick wall, finding comfort in the coolness against my heated skin. His eyes met mine again. I didn't think I could move from the spot, but he forced me to when he held up a red, lacy thong in between his fingers. My red lacy thong. Fucking panty thief! ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Their worlds collided in a heated, passion-filled hook-up behind a bar, bringing their broken pieces together. And now? Mercy finds herself as C.J. Cole's intern. The very Mr. Cole who wrote the most romantic, erotic books she had ever laid eyes on. How could she manage to keep her panties on around him? Or control herself? Hint: she won't. Mature warning.Concluída
REVERiE - the man with whiskey
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Xavier
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Changed By The Past (Good Novel)
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Short Story of A Duke and His new Husband. The air was thick with the scent of wine, candle wax, and the perfume of the aristocracy, but all I could smell was him. Sebastian's hand was around my wrist before I could take another step, his grip firm-unyielding. My breath hitched as he pulled me away from the grand ballroom, away from the swirling dancers and idle gossip, into the shadows of a secluded alcove. The wall was cold against my back, but his body was burning as he caged me in, his hands braced on either side of me. His eyes-dark, hungry-devoured me as though he were a beast barely holding himself back. "Do you have any idea what you've done to me tonight?" he murmured, voice low and edged with something dangerous. His fingers trailed along my jaw, tilting my chin up until there was no escaping the intensity of his gaze. "Parading around that ballroom, smiling so sweetly, looking so untouchable, when I am the only man who should be allowed to look at you that way?" My breath came shallow, my heart hammering against my ribs. "Sebastian-" "I want to ruin you," he growled, his lips brushing against the shell of my ear, his voice sinking deeper into something dark and possessive. "Right here, against this wall. I want to mark you, claim you, so that no man would ever dare look at you again without knowing who you belong to." A shiver ran through me. My knees felt weak, and he must have sensed it because his hands were on my waist in an instant, gripping me tightly, as if daring me to run. As if he knew I wouldn't. "You are mine, Felix," he whispered against my throat, the promise threading through my skin like fire. "And I will remind you of it before this night is over."Concluída
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"The way you behave...behave around me, with me it's highly inappropriate. I don't want you think I'll be your little assistant that you fuck on top of your desk or in the break room, if that's your intention I think it's best if you fire me or atleast send me back to work for Mr Caine," I told him after a couple seconds of silence I turned to face him to be greeted with a hard look on his face. "Amelia....I'm sorry if you thought that was my intention, I can see where you would get that idea.. and I apologize for my lack of communication, in what I want," "So what do you want?" I asked my voice sounding strange I cleared my throat, he reached forward taking my ice-cream placing it on the bench his hand moving to my chin making sure I held eye contact. "You..I want you Amelia," he answered his voice soft but held a level of firmness. I sat there looking at him, his eyes filled with emotions and unspoken words that had me melting under his gaze. "What do you mean y-" "Please don't make me repeat myself, I find it quite annoying," he replied his other hand moving from my knee to thigh the grip firm. "Well you're my boss telling me that you...want me, I think I'm going to need some clarification Xavier," I said frustrated and he swallowed hard, his Adams apple moving and I wish I could know what he was thinking. Before another thought can pass through my mind, his lips are on mine Shakespeare The course of true love never did run smooth
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