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Marizza Y Mia

Mia n'est pas une fauteuse de troubles !

La famille Miller avait dans ses rangs une fauteuse de troubles. Son nom était Amelia Miller. Sa mère était morte en couches lorsqu'elle est née. Sa belle-mère est tombée d'un escalier alors qu'elle était enceinte et est morte. Le père d'Amelia la punissait en la faisant mettre face au mur dans le grenier. Le grenier était sombre et humide, sans la moindre lumière du soleil. Personne ne lui apportait à manger, et Amelia pensait qu'elle pourrait bien y mourir. Peu avant sa mort, elle composa un numéro que sa mère lui avait donné avant de passer. Après avoir raccroché, des bruits de grondement résonnèrent autour d'elle. La résidence de la famille Miller était encerclée par un groupe de gardes du corps habillés en noir. Huit hommes sortirent de leurs voitures, chacun dégageant une aura différente. Ils se dirigèrent directement vers le grenier. L'homme qui les menait mit un genou à terre et tint Amelia, inconsciente, dans ses bras. Il avait une expression solennelle sur le visage. « La famille Miller doit faire faillite. » Après avoir dormi toute la nuit, Amelia se réveilla pour découvrir que son père avait fait faillite. Les membres de sa famille étaient tous sans-abri. Pendant ce temps, elle... Elle avait huit oncles et un grand-père aimant qui l'adoraient profondément. Le père d'Amelia regrettait ce qu'il avait fait, et il refusait d'accepter son destin. Et alors si Amelia menait maintenant une bonne vie ? Elle restait la fauteuse de troubles qui avait causé la mort de sa mère et la faillite de son père ! Il ignorait qu'après le retour d'Amelia chez son oncle, leur chance ne semblait que s'améliorer. Même sa grand-mère clouée au lit pouvait désormais sortir de son lit et danser sur la place ! Enfin, un homme à l'allure divine prétendit être son père. Il la dorlotait au point que le monde entier l'enviait.
Nunu · 73.5K Views

TËSSÃ ãñd DARÆY

I closed my eyes, shutting out his face, trying to steady myself. But I could feel it—his surprise. The way his lips stilled for a fleeting moment before moving with mine told me he didn't expect this. Not from me. "Well done Tessa. You've outdone yourself" I thought, a quiet victory blooming inside me. And then, as if understanding my message he responded. His lips softened, calling to mine, pulling me in closer. The kiss deepened, growing more passionate, more consuming, as though he'd decided to match the boldness I'd thrown his way. This was real. Too real. I gave myself a warning, a fleeting whisper in the chaos of my mind: this shit is about to get real, girl. But it was too late. The ferocious rush of adrenaline coursing through me had already taken over. Butterflies danced in my stomach, fluttering wildly like they'd been let loose from a cage. I thought butterflies only happened when too people were inlove. So why—why is my body dancing to his tune ? His touch was quick, smooth and practiced. He knew exactly how to hold me, how to make my body respond. I was caught between surprise and satisfaction, entirely swept away. Of course, he knew what he was doing. I didn't expect someone like him to be inexperienced. He carried himself like a man who'd walk this path before. If he wanted to, I had no doubt he could have taken me here and now. The thought sent thrill down my spine,but also a jolt of clarity. I wasn't ready. I couldn't loose my virginity to someone I barely knew —whose name I didn't even know. Still he made me feel so much at once. Too much. I was floating, soaring high above the world while somehow still feeling grounded. I was up in the clouds—cloud six at most, but my body wasn't my own anymore. I couldn't feel it. Couldn't control it. It was as though I traded my sanity for this fleeting, intoxicating moment. I could no longer breathe. Every time I tried to take a breathe, he'd pull me right back into the moment and I'd loose myself all over again. It was overwhelming, intoxicating. What was wrong with him? Why wasn't he stopping? It was as if he wanted more—needed more. Like he was determined to dive deeper into the kiss. To explore every uncharted corner of it. Deeper? " Is there even a way to go deeper than this ? I thought to myself, my mind spinning. He'd gone through every kind of kiss I could imagine —soft, fiery, teasing, demanding. I didn't think there was anything left for him to try. But he didn't stop. I tried to push him away, my hands trembling against his chest. But before I could, he caught my wrist, his grip firm yet gentle, pulling me back into his hold. I couldn't escape. And truthfully? I didn't want to. I liked what I was feeling. No—i loved it. It was raw, Electric, addictive. My body craved it, craved him and I didn't want it to end. I wanted more. More until I couldn't feel anything else. Untill my body didn't know where it began and where it ended. Then like a splash of cold water, the sound of voices broke through my haze. " Hey, don't you think it's enough" I froze, reality crashing in. I had completely forgotten about them —our friends. I'd forgotten about everything: where I was, what I was doing, the fact that we were standing out here in broad daylight. The world around me felt like nothing more than a tool for this moment, as if the sunlight itself was feeding into the darkness we'd created together. It had been just us—only us. And now it was over.
Black_Diamond626 · 5.9K Views

Entre Sombras y Poder

Beatriz, la duquesa de una de las casas más poderosas del reino, vive atrapada en un matrimonio sin amor con Winston, el temido Duque de York. Su esposo, conocido por su crueldad y su capacidad para matar sin titubear, es respetado y temido por todos, incluido el rey. El matrimonio entre ellos fue un acuerdo político, un intercambio de poder entre familias, sin espacio para el amor o el consentimiento de Beatriz. Desde su boda, su vida ha sido una prisión dorada, marcada por la distancia emocional y el constante desprecio. Winston no oculta sus infidelidades, y su relación con Clara, una sirvienta arrogante y descarada, se convierte en una humillación constante para Beatriz. Clara disfruta del favor del duque, se sienta en su regazo, lo acaricia y ríe con él frente a los ojos de Beatriz, sin importarle lo que esta piense. Mientras Winston se regodea en su desprecio, Beatriz observa en silencio, con la furia ardiendo en su interior. Esa noche, durante la cena, Winston lleva su desprecio a un nuevo nivel. En un gran comedor iluminado por candelabros dorados y rodeado de lujos, hace que Clara se siente en su regazo mientras continúa la velada sin ningún pudor. Los sirvientes, testigos del espectáculo de humillación, no se atreven a levantar la mirada. Beatriz, sentada al otro extremo de la mesa, mantiene una apariencia serena, pero su interior hierve con rabia contenida, como un volcán a punto de explotar. Beatriz ha soportado esta farsa durante demasiado tiempo. Aunque Winston la ve como una esposa sumisa y débil, su calma esconde una mente afilada y un espíritu indomable. Mientras Winston se regocija en su crueldad, Beatriz comienza a trazar en silencio un plan. Sabe que la paciencia puede ser una poderosa arma, y aunque todos temen al duque, Winston subestima a la mujer que lleva años ignorando. Pronto, Beatriz aprenderá a jugar su propio juego de poder. La cena, aparentemente rutinaria, podría marcar el principio de un cambio. Esta noche, Beatriz decidirá si sigue siendo un peón en el tablero de Winston, o si finalmente toma el control y se convierte en la jugadora maestra en el gran juego del poder.
Shelvy_Aguiar · 532 Views
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