Mr. Huxley
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He's a cold-hearted, Casanova, whose looking to capture the beauty of life through the lens of his camera. WOMEN. He's practically a magnet for them, Which excites him. But who wouldn't be attracted to a tall, dark and handsome man, with words as smooth as chocolate and eyes so seductive. He's got any woman swooning over him, that is until chocolate doesn't taste so sweet and his hands feel like he's molding you into whatever he wants you to be.
To the world she's a prissy young lady who just so happened to be the daughter of a famous model. Media says she's too good to walk the earth in her Tommy Hilfiger heels. But when she's not ducking from camera's or cat walking on the runway, she's seeking adventure and small thrills that the world has to offer. But only behind the back of her mother. In her own little world there's no flashing cameras, uncomfortable interviews, just life and small joys.
He loves to hold on a lot and she's learning to let go
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Lusting After Lucifer (18+) β
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"That's strange," I said thoughtfully. His brow lifted. "What is?" "I always imagined that if fiction ever stepped out of a book, it'd smell like paper. Or ink. Or something like that." I studied him with exaggerated disappointment. "But you smell human. I feel misled." His lips curved - slow, deliberate. Dangerous. "Oh, love," he murmured. "I may not smell like ink..." His steps slowed. "But I assure you," he continued, leaning closer - not enough to touch, just enough to make my pulse stutter - "I taste like it." Heat rushed to my cheeks, the blush spreading like wildfire as I stared at him, utterly shocked. "If you doubt me," he said softly, eyes dropping to my mouth, "there's a very simple way to confirm." Content Warning This story contains themes and scenes that may be disturbing to some readers, including sexual content, violence and abuse, self-harm, grief and loss, PTSD and trauma, and graphic descriptions of murder and gore. The narrative is raw, unflinching, and meant to challenge and provoke. Please read with awareness. And of course... there's β¨ magic β¨ too. STARTED WRITING: MAY 24, 2024 FINISHED WRITING: OCTOBER 12, 2024
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