Marsha > Recent Status Updates

Her hands came up, covering his. Desire coursed through her body, settling in her breasts and downward to her core. Jessica smothered a gasp when she felt Sawyer's erection against her thighs. The two words were barely off her tongue when Sawyer swept her up in his arms, carrying her to the staircase. He took the stairs two at a time, long strides covering the distance from the living room to his bedroom.

Henry glared at Rachel. "He's not kidding. I'd love to take your mama to Bora Bora if it didn't strain our budget." "What if Rachel and I go in together and pay for your trip as a gift?" Sawyer asked, sharing a look with his sister. "No, no and no," Henry protested. "I'm not going to take money from my kids." "You're not taking our money, Daddy," Rachel countered. "It's a gift."

Solmir left in the afternoons to return to the inn where he was staying, giving Yeva a few precious hours before dusk in which to do some real work, checking her traps a final time and using her bow on any stragglers heading back to their dens for the night. She was not as productive as she had been before he began accompanying her, but she still brought home enough food for her sisters and Albe.

Solmir left in the afternoons to return to the inn where he was staying, giving Yeva a few precious hours before dusk in which to do some real work, checking her traps a final time and using her bow on any stragglers heading back to their dens for the night. She was not as productive as she had been before he began accompanying her, but she still brought home enough food for her sisters and Albe.

Once again a full bottle of champagne was placed in the center of the table. It fizzed and bubbled into Alex's glass, and she eyed it with a sense of dread. Yes, it had made her feel strangely energized. But there was something not quite right about the whole thing. Charles stood up to make his toast again, and everyone except Alex drained their glassed in one gulp and got up to dance again.

Relieved she at least admitted to being tempted herself, he said, 'I will treat you as chastely as a brother. I'm eager for you to make progress towards finishing your sketches. But surely you can understand how imprudent it would be to set off without proper organization and protection.' After a moment, she nodded reluctantly. 'Your argument is persuasive, much as I hate to admit it. I have travelled very little.'

Mollified, he forced the suspicion back deep, where he trapped all memory of feeling outcast and inadequate. 'Do you suspect I'll not allow you unlimited use of your money, once we are wed?'
'No! I don't believe you would try to cheat me out of it.'
'Or that I would limit your freedom of movement, insist on your remaining in London when you wished to travel and sketch?'
'N-no, not really,' she admitted.

'You know what, Bogdan?' Olly says, crossly, getting to his feet. 'It's actually pretty terrible luck for the grooming man to be hiring you the night before his wedding to change the sign above his restaurant! That's what's bad luck!' He points up to where the word Nibbles is usually painted above the plate-glass windows. It says, now, Libby's instead. Or, to be more accurate, it says Libby'z.

'You knos what,' I say to Joel, as I leap to grab a bucket from the cupboard near the top of the stairs where I'm keeping my Henry hoover and all my limited cleaning equipment, 'just go. Please. I think it would be best.'
'But are you sure you can handle this?' Joel points at Dillon. 'Handle him?'
"Yes, I can handle it. It'll be better if you leave, in fact.' 'Well, all right, if you say so, but--' 'I say so.'

I am penniless and on the run. How fucking noir. Except that I am sitting in my Festiva at the far end of the parking lot of a vast fast-food complex on the banks of the Mississippi River, the smell of salt and factory-farm meat floating on the warm breezes. It is evening now--I've wasted hours--but I can't move. I don't know where to move to. The car gets smaller by the hour.

The horrifying thing was, if the sex had been outrageously mind-blowing, that might have been my sole indiscretion. But it was only decent, and now I was a cheater, and I couldn't ruin my record of fidelity on something merely average. So I knew there would be a next. I didn't promise myself never again. And then the next was very, very good, and the next after that was great.

The barrier gate to the Mervyns had been busted through, so the store was open as wide and welcoming as the morning of a Presidents' Day sale. Inside, the place was cleared out except for the islands that once held cash registers and now held about a dozen people in various states of drug highs, under signs that read Jewelry and Beauty and Bedding. They were illuminated by gas camping lamps that flickered.

Beyond her, he could see his secretary wrining his hands as he hopped from one foor to the other. Poppleton had standing instructions not to admit anyone, especially not his mother, to his study while he was working. But nobody could stand in his mother's way when she really got hte bit between her teeth.

'Peace is for weak men,' Gilbert snarled out the words. 'Like my brother and like you.' He shook his head at them. 'Weaklings who would seek the favour of our enemies and allow the Camerons to be thought of as followers instead of the leaders we are.'

'Have you not visited the countryside much since you've been here?' 'Only a few times.' 'You should see more of it. There is nothing like the English countryside. I think you would like it. You should ask Katrina to open one of their houses. Then you could visit with her there.' 'Are you trying to have me remove myself further and further from the diamond?' she teased.

But then he looked down and swallowed. "I'm trying to not be pushy, but I can't do that again. Not all summer." Oh. Would it have been better or worse if we'd had reunion sex before he dropped the hammer? I shrugged. "Okay." He stood up. He was wearing that shirt I'd bought for him. Nicely tight and he did look jumpable as hell. My hands were hidden inside my sweatshirt pocket and I tightened them into fists.

I slicked my cock with lube and knee-walked close to his ass. It was a much trickier angle. I ended up having to brace a foot on the mattress to get the leverage I needed to go in and I knew it wasn't right. He was too tight. All of him. Shoulders, thighs, breath, ass. All of it telling me to back off. So I did. He broke his silence. "Do it. Please."

She needed to do something creative--that was the only way she'd calm her mind. Not to mention that seemed to be the only thing she could control right now. Her emotions were out of her control, this case was out of her control, and her marriage was out of her control. Coincidentally, Nolan occupied real estate in each of those areas. She'd let his words hurt her earlier and she knew better than that.

So far she'd added three paintings to his home, and the third one was propped on his dresser in his bedroom. Also a dark, somber room done in navy and dark wood, so she went with something bold and bright to spruce things up. Various shades of red and golds ought to make his domain a happier place.

"I'll take you home," he told her when he thought she might try to walk out of the restaurant as if she had her own means of transportation here. "Thank you again, Your Highness." She spoke politely and had even given a respectful nod of her head. Everything this woman had done so far had been cordial. There seemed to be no ill feelings toward him or even her father after the odd events of the previous night.

Whatever possessed her to make such a spectacle of herself? She'd kissed him! She'd never kissed a man before. Had never wanted to. And who would have imagined how...moving that kiss would be? Although it did pale in comparison to the kiss he gave her.

He watched her as she called Sheba to sit and joined him on the bench. "What do you want to know?" "Plenty, but we'll start with this." She laid her smartphone on her lap and set it to record. "Mr. Yamada, when did you first sense that you wanted to pursue the arts?" He raised a hand to scratch his chin, his gaze fixed on some faraway point. "I was in college, majoring in computer graphics."

'Well, people have been going on and on about me playing Hamlet for so long now that eventually you feel almost a social obligation to do it, you know?' 'Absolutely.' I'm not really paying attention; all I'm trying to work out is how to persuade him to bugger off and leave me in peace to get on with my work. 'A social obligation. Yes.'

I'm still none the wiser as to what kind of garment it actually is. Its precise definition remains a mystery. It's not a basque. It's not a corset. I suppose the most accurate description would be 'playsuit', but I'm not at all sure it contains enough material even to fall into that category. It's just a collection of very, very small pieces of black lacy fabric, held together with strings of black satin ribbon.

Peter and Roman sat on the hood of Roman's car and the sun was pink through the trees and the shadow of the electrical substation came at them like a slow attack of elbows. "Will I be able to keep up?" said Roman. "No," said Peter. Roman threw his cigarette butt to their growing pile and lit another. "I'm sorry I was a pain in your balls," he said. "Don't worry about it," said Peter.

Roman tore the leaf into eighths and let them sprinkle to the ground. "I remember coming here with my dad," he said. "I don't have too many memories of him, but I remember when I was pretty young and being here and getting stung on like the webbing between my toes and the look on his face. How helpless he was. Because there was no way for him to figure out why I was crying like that. Until my foot swelled up."

The salesmen would ring the bell until someone let them in. Eventually their footsteps would approach our door and then the knock would come, and my mother's hands would descend upon the heads of her daughters, a signal to remain quiet and perfectly still until the threat had passed. Salesmen were dirty, she told us. They sold inferior goods that no store would offer. And they carried fleas.

My grandfather used to say the world is full of hidden truths, if only you open your eyes and look. New frontiers are waiting to be explored, no matter what the schoolteachers say or how many books have been written. Maps are just a lie we tell ourselves to feel safe. But I don't know if I'm strong enough for this truth.

Mom gave him a dark look. "We came back here for you, Benjamin. We could have stayed in Philadelphia, and you'd be well on your way to doing something most people can only dream of. You're the one who couldn't stand leaving Fairfold. You're the one who gave the chane at a different life up, who couldn't be bothered to practice after your injury." Ben was too stunned to say anything in return.

"In any case, we listened to what the doctors said, but when Bryan was born, we went a different route, and to a different GP, actually. Someone who wouldn't force us or try to guilt us into vaccinating again." "And has Bryan suffered any adverse effects from not being vaccinated?" inquired McGuinness. Fiona shook her head. "No. He's a healthy, vibrant little boy who loves his brother, his cousins, everyone."