Since the pandemic, I’ve discovered my addiction for buying yarn and crocheting. I love it so much now that I can safely call it an addiction 😉 This took me less than a week to make.
Elise Bennett opened the door silently, her hazel eyes darting cautiously from side to side. She let out a deep sigh of relief when she saw that the room was empty. The last thing she wanted was to be greeted by a nasty surprise even though she knew she was powerful enough to take on anyone who tried to mess with her. Her heart was thudding so hard she thought it was going to jump out of her chest any second.
She edged her way into the room, still cautious and her fingers tightened around the vial of blood she had in her pocket almost possessively. It was so dark; she could barely see a thing.
There were beings who would do anything to have her blood, because her blood wasn’t like any normal human blood. It was made up of molecules that could harm or heal depending on who came into contact with it but then she wasn’t exactly normal. And she never had been.
Her eyes adjusted to the darkness and she scanned the room, alert for signs of any hidden danger. The room wasn’t that big and she couldn’t see much apart from a large sofa and a crooked old table that looked like it had seen better days, but it didn’t mean that the room was completely empty. She couldn’t help but feel tired. Dodging vampires and shapeshifters all day had sapped all the energy she had and she needed to find a way to replenish herself and fast. The last thing she needed to do was faint and put herself in even more danger.
She wasn’t afraid of death. Not really. In fact, no one would dare to kill her because her blood would be literally useless to anyone if she was dead but that wouldn’t stop her enemies torturing her, just for the hell of it if she was ever unlucky enough to fall in the hands of the enemy.
And that was when she saw him, lying on the floor motionless in a pool of blood and she felt her stomach tighten. His face was so pale, it seemed almost as white as snow in comparison to the thick, jet black hair that waved away from his gorgeous, angular face.
Panic flooded through her as she ran over to him, falling at her knees by his side as her brown eyes ran over him feverishly looking for any sign of life. It was then that she noticed the large pool of blood, the wooden stake sticking out of his chest and the fact that his lips were turning blue.
He was dying.
Sweat beaded her forehead as she stared down at him and she lifted a shaky hand to wipe it away. Instinct told her to just leave him there. He didn’t deserve to live after all the horrific things he had done, all the innocent blood he had shed without batting an eyelid. Damon Salvatore didn’t give a shit about anyone else but himself and he had never pretended otherwise.
For a split second she considered just leaving him there to rot. It would serve him right and it would be a great way to get revenge for the lives of her ancestors that he had so ruthlessly taken.
As she stared down at him, her small jaw tightened. In an ideal world, it would be so easy for her to walk away and never look back
But this was far from being an ideal world.
Like her older sister Bonnie Bennet, Elise was a powerful witch. And witches and vampires were supposed to be enemies. For centuries they had hated each other she didn’t even want to think about how many of her ancestors had been cruelly wiped out by vampires, yet here she was about to save the life of one of the most powerful, most hateful, most dangerous vampires of all time.
Damon Salvatore. Damon Salvatore. Damon Salvatore.
Just the name alone was enough to send shivers down her spine. He was her weakness and she didn’t want to deny it to herself any longer. She felt like a traitor. She was a traitor, a traitor to herself and a traitor to her ancestors but she couldn’t lie to herself. Not anymore. She had lied for too long, watching him with other women while she had to pretend not to give a shit. She hated him with every fibre of her being but she also loved him and she could not leave him there to die even though he had just tried to kill Bonnie a few days previously.
She stared at the stake. If she pulled it out, he would bleed to death, but she had to do something.
“Gramps” she whispered brokenly “I need your help to heal him. Please help me. I can’t do this by myself”
There was no response.
She tried again.
“Gramps, I know you hate him. I know he’s a monster, but I can’t just let him die. I can’t!” Tears ran down her cheeks and dropped onto his face “Please help me”
Still no response.
For the first time in her life Elise felt helpless. She sat there sobbing silently not knowing what to do. He was at deaths door, but she couldn’t blame her Gramps for not wanting to help her. Damon had literally murdered half of her coven over the past hundred years.
As she sat there rocking back and forth, her eyes tightly shut, Elise’s mind was working furiously. If she couldn’t get Gramps to help her then she would have no choice but to tap into the dark arts.
This is one of my romance novels which is available to read on wattpad 😉
For more of my books check out my site
I gripped his shoulders hard, my head snapping back, eyes rolling as the familiar waves and waves of pleasure washed over me. Pleasure so intense, that I wanted to drown in it.
“Cam!” I panted breathlessly as my orgasm hit me like a sledgehammer. “Oh Cammmmmm!”
I continued to grind my hips against his as he thrust inside me almost frenziedly. I knew he was about to explode any second and I wanted him to feel the same mind-blowing ecstasy that I had. I knew he was close by the grunts and hoarse moans, the way his face was contorted, and his lips hung slackly. He couldn’t control it another second. Suddenly his whole body stiffened, and he grunted loudly shuddering on top of me letting out a deep groan as he came, shooting his thick, hot cum into my welcoming pussy. I smiled and was about to snuggle up to him when he rolled off me, sat up and started pulling on his clothes.
The old familiar pain twisted at my insides. I knew he was going home to his wife and I hated it. I pouted as I watched him pull on his jeans. God he was gorgeous I thought as I stared at him hungrily. Six foot three with a solid build, dark and fit. Not necessarily handsome but he was sexy as hell with a big dick and experienced tongue both of which he knew how to use. Skilfully. He was twelve years older than me, but he definitely didn’t look thirty-six.
I sat up pulling the sheets around my naked body my nostrils flaring. Part of me wished that I wasn’t on the pill. If I got pregnant maybe he wouldn’t always be in such a hurry to rush home to wifey.
“Do you have go right now Cam?” I didn’t care if he heard the whine in my voice “It’s like I spend less and less time with you each time we hook up”
He shrugged into his jacket without even looking at me “I’ve got commitments. You know that babe”
I grimaced. I hated it when he said that. I longed to have him all to myself, but I knew that wasn’t possible. Not right now anyway. Not with his wifey still in the picture.
The fact is that I’m in love with a married man and fucking him every chance I get. His name is Cameron Daley and It’s the best sex I’ve ever had, and I have no intention of stopping. He buys me gifts and pays my bills. I would be a fool if I ever allowed him to slip away. Of course, I would prefer it if he left his wife for me but he’s promised me that when the kids get older he will leave but right now it just wasn’t gonna be possible.
Cameron had told me they weren’t sleeping together, that they didn’t even share the same room, that it was a marriage of convenience because they had 3 kids together and a bunch of assets so divorce would be expensive. And I believed him. Why would he come to me if he was still sleeping with wifey? If she was keeping him happy at home, he would never have come to me in the first place. According to him she had always refused to suck his dick and just wanted to have sex in the missionary position of occasionally from behind which drove Cam crazy as he loved to experiment sexually. Wifey could never please him the way I could. Like me, he was a freak and kinky as hell. He had told me that she was had gone off sex after the birth of their second child and that she was frigid and didn’t want him anywhere near her that she never listened to him anymore and only had time for the children which made him feel like shit. Plus he was a man with a high sex drive and he needed someone who would give him good, regular sex.
That’s where I came in.
I know everyone thinks I’m stupid and that I’m wasting my time with a man who they think could never be mine, but they just don’t understand. Okay I accept that he doesn’t love me the way I love him, but he takes good care of me and gives me the most mind-blowing sex I’ve ever had and that’s enough for me. He pays my rent, he pays my bills, he gives me gifts and he’s bought me a car.
And before you say anything, no I’m not a gold digger cos his money isn’t the only reason why I’m with him. Okay it’s nice to have a man who lavishes you with gifts so I guess you could call him my sugar daddy but there’s a lot more to it than that. I think I must be the luckiest girl alive to have a man like him in my life. My name is Briony Summers, but everyone calls me Bree. I work as a receptionist in a hairdressing salon and the pay isn’t great, but I do love my job because there’s never a dull moment. I could jack in my job tomorrow and live off the money Cam gives me, but I would probably be bored out of my skull just sitting at home being a kept woman and probably end up getting into some kind of trouble. The devil finds work for idle minds and all that. Anyway, as I said before I’m not a gold digger so it’s not just about the money.
I watched him put on his shoes and get up.
“I hope you haven’t forgotten my birthday baby” I reminded him. “I wanna spend some time with you on that day”
He shrugged into his jacket which had been thrown on the floor two hours previously before our frenzied, passionate love making and gave me one of those sexy grins that made me go weak at the knees.
“Wild horses couldn’t keep me away from you on your birthday baby” He bent down and gave me a lingering kiss that melted my insides to mush. In that moment, I would have forgiven him anything.
He reached into his pocket, pulled out his wallet and handed me a thick wad of £20 bills.
“Buy yourself something nice”
I beamed. Like most women I loved shopping and spending money. Nothing could put a smile on my face more than a bit of retail therapy. Apart from sex of course.
“Thank you baby”
He kissed me again “I’ll try and ring you later. Keep it warm for me sexy” And with a wink he was gone, and I was grinning like a lovesick idiot.
I shoved the money in my dresser drawer without bothering to count it. There was more than enough in there to for me to buy that hot pink Michael Kors dress I’d had my eye on for weeks and maybe the shoes to match.
I pushed back the covers and dragged myself reluctantly out of bed. I was supposed to be meeting my best friend Jonelle in an hour for lunch and she hated it when I was late, which I often was because it usually took me ages to get ready. Naked I padded into the bathroom admiring all the plush mod cons and switched on the shower. I knew I was lucky. I had a gorgeous little flat fully furnished with all the latest mod cons paid for by Cam. It had been furnished just the way I wanted it. Cameron was always generous to me and if I wanted something, he would give it to no matter the cost. I loved him even more for that.
I pulled up my long hair, shoved on a shower cap then stepped under the hot spraying water. I hummed as I lathered myself. For the first time in my life I was happy. And I was going to do whatever it took to hold on to that happiness.
I hadn’t always had a happy life. In fact, my childhood had been rubbish. My parents had split up when I was six and my mother had turned to alcohol and drugs, so my father had been given custody of me and I had gone to live with him. My father had been happy to have me there, he lived in a big house and was a successful businessman so there was plenty of space. I had my own room and everything and I would probably have been very happy if my father hadn’t remarried again. Heck, I would have been happy if my father had remarried a decent woman but my stepmother had been hard faced, money hungry bitch who had wrapped my smitten father around her little finger then gone on to have two daughters in quick succession who she favoured and treated a lot better than me. I don’t even know what my father saw in her. She was an ugly cow. I was convinced that she hated me from the start. There was no other explanation for her treatment of me. Oh, she would treat me fine in front of my father but as soon as he was gone, or his back was turned she would revert back to her true nature. An evil dragon. I had to do all the chores around the house to her exacting standards or I didn’t get any food. I was forced to wait on her and her little brats and generally treated like a slave. She would take my father’s credit card, go on massive shopping sprees and return with all sorts of goodies for herself and her brats but I would get nothing. My stepsisters quickly learned their mothers ways and made my life a living hell telling their mother that I hit them or broke one of their toys and because my side was never heard I always ended up getting severely punished. It got worse as I got older. They would go into my room and snoop through my stuff then go and report back to their mother who would punish me as she saw fit. There was no point telling my father anything as he never took my side and thought the sun shone out of my stepmothers’ arse. I hated them all. I wasn’t allowed to have friends over or visit my friends. I wasn’t allowed to go anywhere in fact unless I was running errands or going to school. Her hatred of me intensified of the years as she got fatter and fatter and my looks blossomed. I lost all my puppy fat, my acne disappeared, and I shot up in height. She would accuse me of thinking I was better than everyone else and constantly tell me that I would never amount to anything. It was years of endless bullying and joyless drudgery. I was totally miserable and a prisoner in my own home. Things only improved for me when I got myself a job as a Sales Assistant at sixteen when I left school. My stepmother tried to stop me and got the shock of her life when I finally stood up to her and told her where to go. After that she stayed well clear of me and so did her brats. Which suited me fine. And when I had saved enough money two years later I moved into a house share with three other girls and for the first time in my life I felt happy and free. There was no one breathing down my neck, no one to make my life miserable, no one to control my life. My father hadn’t wanted me to leave and tried to talk me out of it but there was no way I was gonna stay in that house of horrors with the wicked stepmother and two ugly stepsisters as I had secretly named them. He had put a sizeable chunk in my bank account which had helped a great deal. Of course, my bitch of a stepmother had been pleased to see me go. The last thing I remember seeing as my father dropped me to my new home is her evil smirking face peering through the curtains.
My life had improved from that moment onwards. Finally, I’d felt my age and I made the most of catching up with the fun I had missed in my life. My housemates introduced me to a world of fun. Partying, drinking, men and sex followed and lots of hedonism Maybe I’d gone overboard but I reckon I deserved it after what I’d been through.
I lathered myself quickly with the Chanel no 5 body wash that I’d picked up from Harvey Nicks earlier that month. (yeah I loved the finer things in life and since I could well afford it, why not?) rinsed myself off and stepped out of the shower reaching out for a huge fluffy white towel which I wrapped around myself. I padded back into the bedroom, dried myself, rubbed cocoa butter carefully into my skin and stared at myself in the huge ornate mirror.
I never got tired of staring at my reflection. At five foot eight I was slim with a small waist, curvy hips, long legs and full breasts. I wasn’t conventionally pretty but I was striking with almond shaped brown eyes, a small straight nose and a wide, full lipped mouth. My hair was long, thick and natural and hung down my back in neat twists and my skin was the colour of smooth milk chocolate and flawless. I knew how to dress and what to wear to bring out my best features and I always drew a lot of attention wherever I went, and people always asked me if I was a model which was really flattering. Modelling had once been my dream, but I loved food too much to starve myself to anorexic proportions and I had no intention of getting rid of my sexy curves for anyone.
As I stood in front of my vast wardrobe looking for something to wear my mobile rang. I let it go to voicemail then listened to the message, it was my boss Samantha wanting to know if I could do an extra shift on Saturday because Melissa the girl who usually works the weekends had a hospital appointment. I frowned, tempted to refuse because I did enjoy my weekend lieins, but I liked Mel and I knew she would do the same for me.
I called Samantha back and told her I would do the shift and I could hear the relief in her voice.
“Thanks Bree. You’re a lifesaver. Hope I haven’t spoilt your weekend?”
“Nah, it’s fine. I didn’t really have anything on to be honest”
We chatted for a short while and I giggled as she filled me in with some of the drama that one of the customers had carried on with in the salon.
Twenty minutes later, I was in the kitchen looking for something to eat. I loved food almost as much as I loved cooking.
My phone pinged and I glanced down at it. It was Cameron telling me he would see me during the week because his wife was going away for a spa weekend.
Joy bubbled up inside me and I blushed as I read the rest of the text that crudely told me in no uncertain terms what he wanted to do to me in full details.
I hummed to myself as I busied myself cooking.
I could not wait for next week to get here….
1)Exercise. You don’t have to go to the gym but at least 30 minutes of movement each day goes a long way.
2) Don’t crash diet. You’ll end up putting it all back on when you start eating normally.
3) Use smaller plates. Using smaller plates mean you eat less.
4) Calorie Count. Eat less calories than you expend and watch the calories melt away.
5) Drink plenty of water.
6) Cut out white sugar and complex carbs.
7) Buy your dream dress in the size you want to be. It worked wonders for me.
8) Find interesting things to do so you’re not eating out of boredom or comfort eating.
9) Eat only when you’re hungry.
10) Add veggies to your plate. They’re nice and filling and don’t make you want to stuff your face afterwards.
Thick visible sheets of rain tumbled from a grey billowing sky. The water bounced off the floor as people scurried to find shelter as the storm approached. The day had begun sunny and clear and many people in the town were dressed only in summer clothes – t shirts and skirts, short sleeved shirts and jeans.
The woman, her auburn hair bedraggled and hanging in thick knots around her face, stood in the doorway of a long boarded up shop. Her lemon T shirt and long white Indian cotton skirt were wet and the lines of her body stood in stark relief to the brightly coloured fabric of her clothes. He small pert breasts – she neither needed nor wore a bra – were clearly visible and the dark hard nipples – erect from the sudden exposure to the cold rain – pressed against the fabric. Marie was always embarrassed by the way in which her nipples grew to extreme length when cold – and tonight as the dusk drew in they seemed larger than ever – well over an inch in length and hard as bullets
Marie held her small shoulder bag to her like a mother with an infant, her teeth chattering. Across the street was a typical back street pub, its once gaily painted window sills chipped and its white washed walls – now grey and dingy – were daubed with profanity and pledges of undying love for a girl long since gone. Marie wondered if there was a hot air dryer in the pub – whose windows shone with warm orange light through their frosted pains. Tripping across the cobbled street Marie pushed open the heavy wooden doors. As she did so her nostrils flared – the room stank of smoke, beer and worse still wet people. A CD juke box was playing a three year old compilation disc that was skipping so that the familiar strains of the song sounded comical.
The bar man was drying glasses and looked across the empty room as Marie entered. In the light of the old bulbs he looked almost orange – and he smiled with nicotine stained teeth. “Alright love? Got caught in the rain did you?”
“Apparently” said Marie laughing through the water that still streamed down her forehead.
“What can I get you – how about a hot toddy?”
“Sounds good – do you have a bathroom– I need to get dry”
“Down the corridor – here you go use this,” The barman reached under the bar and tossed Marie a towel. She smiled and pushed open the interior door. Beyond was a hallway – two empty crates and a crisp box blocked the way and Marie attempted to step over them. Her long skirt snagged on the crate and with a loud ripping noise tore along the hem.
“Shit!” said Marie. She walked down the long corridor and saw a door with the word TOILET painted roughly on the door. She pulled it open and gasped as she saw a tall man who was urinating in the single toilet. The man – startled by the door opening – turned and Marie saw a large heavy cock hanging between his legs, its bulbous pink head glistening in the light of the 40watt bulb.
“Oh God – I’m sorry!!” she gasped and then said “Great cock!”
The man laughed and said “I was just thinking that you were late for the wet t-shirt contest last night.”
“I ve got wet fucking everything” said Marie, “and having seen that monster I’m getting wetter” The man suddenly realized that the long fat length of his cock was still hanging from his fly and he looked down and then back at Marie
“I am SO sorry!” he said.
She smiled back.
“I’m not – that’s a lovely cock.” She looked back down the corridor which was still empty and then stepped into the toilet, closing the door behind her – and drew the bolt.
“Oh – and erm – what’s all this?” the man queried. Marie said nothing and slowly lowered her bag to the floor, then loosening her skirt stepped from it.
“I ripped my skirt”
Marie stood before the man, clad in wet vest top, and briefest of thongs. “You’ve got lovely legs” said the man – his cock beginning to stiffen
Marie smiled “My tits are even better,” She peeled away the top and her breasts fell into view. Their dark nipples were long hard and fat – pointing toward the ceiling. The guy licked his lips and unbuttoned his trousers. They fell away and Marie saw that not only did he have a fat long cock but his balls were enormous. She stepped closer and fell to her knees, wordlessly stroking the shaft of the man’s cock.
His foreskin pulled back and the heavy head slipped into her mouth. She cupped his balls and squeezed them. The man groaned and his cock began to expand even more. He reached down and began to pull at her nipples. She moaned and looked up as she took more and more of his length in her throat. He put his hands in her hair and pushed her head down towards the stem of his shaft. She pulled up and said simply “Fuck me.”
Marie stood and pulled down the thong, bending over and leaning on the wall. The man slid his thick veiny cock into the tightness of Marie’s smooth shaved pussy. She gasped . “That feels so good,” she whispered. “Fuck my tight cunt”
The man’s rhythm was intense and as he slammed into Marie’s tight snatch. Her hot lips oozed her love juice onto his fat cock and his heavy balls slapped against her. His big hands massaged her tits and pulled on the pronounced nipples. “Yes, yes!”
The man’s cock was so hard that the inside of Marie’s pussy was stretched and tingled. “I’ve got to cum” whispered the man, pulling her long auburn hair. He groaned and a thick stream of thick cum emptied into her hungry pussy
They collapsed panting hard, and sweaty. The man kissed her deeply slipping a finger into the sticky flaps of her pussy. He raised his eyebrows. “You were right you know – this kind of thing really does brighten up a ten year old marriage. Come on let’s get you home and dried off.” They kissed deeply dressed, and Mr and Mrs Lancaster went home together.
I never thought I was naive about sex. In fact, I think I used to think I was pretty open minded. I thought I knew enough about sex to get by. I mean at least enough to know what satisfied me and what would satisfy any partner I happened to be with at the time.
Little did I know how wrong I was.
I grew up reading Mills and Boons where the female characters were usually young and mostly virgins while the men were wealthy, older and very experienced. It would often be a ‘hate at first sight’ type of relationship. The women would resent the men for some reason (usually arrogance or just the fact that they were selfish twats) Then all of a sudden the dynamics would change in the relationship. These men would somehow bowl these young women over with their amazing good looks and seduce them and the young women would for them like skittles in a bowling alley. It would end in them living happily ever after in a perfect, enviable paradise.
Of course I sought this kind of relationship for myself. I actually believed that I too would be able to find a gorgeous, sexy guy who would sweep me off my feet with his charm, good looks and mind blowing sexual experience and we would live an idyllic life with our adorable offspring and never have to worry about a single thing.
Of course that’s not how my sex life actually panned out.
I did have a couple of relationships that were sexually satisfying but most of the guys I was involved in were not interested in wanting to satisfy me and sex with them was pretty mundane and mediocre. They were more interested in satisfying their own needs than mine. Fortunately, I learned to satisfy myself and bring myself to such powerful orgasms that it soon got to the stage that my own self pleasure brought me more pleasure than the pleasure I was getting from my relationships. Which were often lacking.
Luckily for me, I have a vivid imagination and I discovered something new about myself that I didn’t realise before.
I was slightly kinky.
It was a discovery that really excited me, especially when I found someone who was even more kinky than me. I think he brought the kink out of me with all his stories of his past experiences. In fact we used to get off talking about our past sexual experiences and making up hot sexual scenarios. It was a long distance relationship but it didn’t really matter because we both enjoyed phone sex which was amazing. Listening to each other talk filth while we masturbated was out of this world and hearing each other cum down the line was like icing on the cake.
A cake that I really enjoyed eating….;)
Never trust an abuser.
They play with your mind
Tell you what you want to hear
But they’re not being kind
They want you to break
If you give, they’ll just take
Don’t let them in
If you try to get away
They’ll look for a way
To make you stay
That’s not love
It’s called CONTROL
Abusers want you body and soul
Because they love to MANIPULATE
From your family and friends
They will isolate you
When someone hits you
It’s NOT love!
When they hurt you
That’s NOT right!
You shouldn’t need
To live in fear
Stalking doesn’t mean they care
Telling you who to see
And what to wear
How to live your life
How is that even fair?
Abuse comes in many ways
Some may be subtle
And some might just blaze
You deserve more
Than to live that way
No one should be a victim
Or be forced to stay..
From my personal collection of Poems
Why don’t people just say what they mean instead of playing silly word games, hedging around the subject and sugar coating everything? Then they get pissed off when you get the wrong end of the stick? Be upfront, that way no one can get it twisted….*Deep sigh*
How sad it is the way society judges us as people. Too fat, too thin, too short, too tall, too dark, too pale, too ‘ethnic’ not ‘ethnic’ enough. Too geeky, too dumb. Even hair is being judged, too short, too long, too much weave, too straight. Everything has to be ‘labelled’ and no one is ever ‘good’ enough. What a pity society can’t live and let live eh? No wonder so many people are depressed.
I don’t get why when people are having relationship problems they go round sharing them with everyone EXCEPT the person they are in a relationship with. Then they wonder why things don’t end well. A lot of these people, even so called ‘friends’ and even some family members just want to hear all the juicy details so they can add fuel to the fire and get caught up in the drama. They aren’t there to help in any way whatsoever. The best person to chat to when you have relationship issues is the person you have the issues with.
I love it when spiteful people badmouth you then have the nerve to say “Oh I was just keepin it real” Hmmmmmm. There’s a big difference between ‘Keeping it real’ and just being a mean piece of shit. If someone is telling you something for your own good then it’s ALL good but if a person is constantly being negative and hateful towards you then that’s just excess weight in your life that you need to shed like a diet. Ain’t nobody got time for that. Life is way too short to deal with people who make you feel like shit. Negative only breeds negative and you can do way better than that. Toss em out of your life and keep it moving……Onwards and Upwards.