Story cover for Lover. by sweetfanficomine
Lover.
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    Parts 5
  • WpHistory
    Time 1h 14m
  • WpView
    Reads 1,006
  • WpVote
    Votes 25
  • WpPart
    Parts 5
  • WpHistory
    Time 1h 14m
Ongoing, First published Jan 07, 2017
Mature
One woman, Mary, and one man named Myles.
  A story of a romance between a rockstar and a girl he meets on a summer evening.
  Myles begins to fancy Mary when he steals a glance of her at the bar they always find themselves in, but the busy rockstar life that Myles is leading doesn't allow him to spend more than the summer with her, and so he thinks of her and relives the memories until he meets her again, a year after their summer meeting.
  For Mary, it's not much different. She finds out some information about where he is and writes a letter to him. A letter in which she begs for help because she's struggling hard with addiction, or the way she calls it "Self-medication to suicide".
  And when they meet again, he finds that, after all the time that passed, she's changed, but he still sees the Mary that he loves. He writes a letter to her and she flies over to him, they decide they want to stay together and Myles takes her on tour with him and in order to help her, hires a sober person to be her supervisor so that he can always know she's okay. 
  And with that, their relationship of unknown highs and uncharted lows begins...
  (Sometimes irregular updates)
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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.