~~ "I need something" he remarked and stalked closer to where I stood, closing in the distance between us. "Can't it wait in the morning?" I stood my ground, blocking his way inside his room. He leaned down and whispered in my ears "it can't, butterfly." I huffed and move out of his way. He strode inside his room as I closed the door. A yelped escaped my mouth when Yuri pinned my back on the door roughly. "What the fuc-" my words died in my throat when his lips crashed in mine. My muffled scream and protest only seemed to intensify his assault. I used my hand to push his chest but he held both of wrist and pinned it above my head with one hand. I raised my right knee to push him away but his other hand took my legs and guided it around his hips, making the shirt raise over my hips. His hand traced my thigh until his rough palms cupped my right bum. "No undies?" we are both gasping for air but his lips were still hovering over mine as he smirked. "I like, butterfly." Before I could speak, his lips were once again claiming mine, this time his kiss was hungry and fiery. His tongue seamed my lower lip for entrance but I didn't give in. I was still fighting the urge to let him in because he hurt my fucking ego. Yuri was still holding my wrist above my head but his other calloused hand was exploring my body in ways I've dreamed he would. I melted in his touch when his hand found my heavy breast, a whimper broke out my lips when he played my erected bud and he took that as a chance and forced his tongue inside my mouth. His hand guide my arms around his neck, I obliged like a wanton lady, and both his hands were now cupping my breast under his shirt, massaging them as he did in the island. "Yuri…"I moaned his name when his lips left mine only to plant wet kisses in my neck. I felt his teeth grazed my exposed collarbone his tongue soothed the pain away. I arched my back when his left hand wandered down my hips and between my legs. His fingers traced my aching core. "You're soaking, babochka." I felt him smile on my skin as his thumb drew circles over my sensitive bundle on nerves. His name escaped my lips again when the threw me over his soft bed. "I've waited a long time for this" ~~ He's in the mafia and she's a assassin. Yuri and Adrianna met at the wrong place and at the wrong time. Can their love meet at the end of the world for them to be together? ***
Осколки Времени. Элену Ли, дочь фармацевтического магната, с шести лет преследуют ночные кошмары. В своих снах девушка видит неизвестного мужчину, который пытается то ли спасти ее..., то ли убить. Но что она будет делать, когда человек из ее снов неожиданно предстанет перед ней в реальности? ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Языки пламени пожирали остатки упавшего самолета. Голоса пилота больше не было слышно. Медленно падающий белый снег усиливал чувство полной безысходности. «Лена, беги!» «Но…» «Я сказал, БЕГИ!» Восприняв его слова как приказ, ноги Элены, не слушая желания ее сердца, понесли ее прочь от этого места как можно быстрее. Запыхаясь, но находя в себе силы бежать дальше по этому темному лесу, она не слышала ничего, кроме стука у себя в груди. Внезапно, земля под ногами исчезла, и тело потеряло свое равновесие. «Оу, а кто это у нас тут спрятался? Маленькая мышка решила поиграть в салки с большим котом? Дорогуша, как я уже говорил, тебе от меня не скрыться. Ни в этой жизни, ни в следующей.» Сердце Элены замерло от ужаса. Последний шанс на спасение она только что потеряла. Русская адаптация оригинальной новеллы The Numbers That Brought Our Fates Together.
The Idiot is a novel by the 19th-century Russian author Fyodor Dostoevsky. It was first published serially in the journal The Russian Messenger in 1868–69. The title is an ironic reference to the central character of the novel, Prince (Knyaz) Lev Nikolayevich Myshkin, a young man whose goodness, open-hearted simplicity and guilelessness lead many of the more worldly characters he encounters to mistakenly assume that he lacks intelligence and insight. In the character of Prince Myshkin, Dostoevsky set himself the task of depicting "the positively good and beautiful man." The novel examines the consequences of placing such a unique individual at the centre of the conflicts, desires, passions and egoism of worldly society, both for the man himself and for those with whom he becomes involved. Joseph Frank describes The Idiot as "the most personal of all Dostoevsky's major works, the book in which he embodies his most intimate, cherished, and sacred convictions." It includes descriptions of some of his most intense personal ordeals, such as epilepsy and mock execution, and explores moral, spiritual and philosophical themes consequent upon them. His primary motivation in writing the novel was to subject his own highest ideal, that of true Christian love, to the crucible of contemporary Russian society. The artistic method of conscientiously testing his central idea meant that the author could not always predict where the plot was going as he was writing. The novel has an awkward structure, and many critics have commented on its seemingly chaotic organization. According to Gary Saul Morson, "The Idiot violates every critical norm and yet somehow manages to achieve real greatness." Dostoevsky himself was of the opinion that the experiment was not entirely successful, but the novel remained his favourite among his works. In a letter to Strakhov he wrote: "Much in the novel was written hurriedly, much is too diffuse and did not turn out well, but some of it did turn out well. I do not stand behind the novel, but I do stand behind the idea.
"Take off your top and straddle me." "W-what?" "Just do it!" "No" "Fine!" he stood up from the couch and pulled me over his lap "do as I say. I won't hurt you. Gabby" his voice softened. "People are watching. They need to believe you're mine." He lifts my hoodie over my head, my shirt soon followed. "Dean..." I whispered when I felt his lips on my neck. I don't even know this man, I don't know how he looks because it was too dark in here. "Touch me" he nibbled my earlobes and I shivered. "virgin." He knows a lot about me and I don't know anything about him except his perfume was intoxicatingly sweet. "I-I can't. I-I don't know how" ° ° ° Gabriella's only intention when she traveled to New York was to find her wayward sister. In her search for her, she found her diary that she thought would lead to Magdalena. With every turn of the diary's page, she unraveled a world she never knew existed.
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