検索キーワード： 著者 "Grey Huffington" すべてのカテゴリー

She was maid fohr him. He was designed fohr her. Just fohr her.

I’d loved him and I knew this one wouldn’t make a difference. Our paths were destined to meet. The question was always when. While patience forced the progression of my passion as a ballerina, I longed for him day in and day out. I closed my eyes often, hoping to meet him in the same place I had always–my dreams. What we had couldn’t be duplicated, erased, arranged, diluted, defused, confused, or mistaken for anything else. Fated love. It was rare. It was wild. It was raw. It was real.

When souls are tied, it's never goodbye. A boy I was that summer evening I met you, pulling your belongings out of the truck and into your new home. I knew it was love then. A whole man I was the day that you met me at the altar and agreed to love me until death do us part. A shell of a man I've become since it did, unable to move on, move forward, or progress in any way until I discovered that not even death was permanent enough to keep us apart. A better man I'm destined to be, knowing that, at some capacity, you're still with me. Our love is one that never dies.

Year after year after year, I trick myself into believing that I’m over it—that I’m over him. Then I see his face, and the feelings we once shared resurface. We were young, and we were in love, but it was a love I was willing to do anything for. He was someone I was willing to do anything for. Suddenly, he decided that my love wasn’t enough. While he went on with his life, mine was always stuck on pause. Then, I decided that love waits for no one and allowed it into my world again.

She’s a gem..she's on an entirely different level than the women I’m accustomed to. She’s loyal and about her paper. That’s why I’d sacrifice the only friendships I’d ever known, wait for however long it took her to be ready, and happily sever ties with anyone who didn’t agree with—or was against—our union. The little spoiled brat that I once considered off-limits had given me a taste of her forbidden fruit, and there was nothing I’d stop at to maintain the privilege of burying my seeds in her garden.

She’s an angel. And she doesn’t mind dancing with a demon. That’s why I’d move mountains, dry seas, and hydrate the desert if it made her happy. She brought goodness to the world. It was only right that I made it hers, along with the two tiny beauties that shared her hazel eyes and perfect smile. For them, I’d do whatever. For them, I’d become whoever.

Me and you, we’re tied. Not just by the heart, but by the souls. Jagged edges and all.

I am not a dancer… I am not a bartender… I am not a s*x worker… I do not work the house… I own the house… And, everything that goes on in my house remains in my house. We service the wealthiest clients in all of Clarke. They come for a good time, not a long time. But, then there are those who don’t come for the fun itself. They come for the community. The connection. The Chemist.

Beautiful disaster. The first thing that comes to mind when I think of her. Who hurt you? The first question comes to mind when I open my mouth to greet her. Although it wasn't the easiest to reach, I knew her heart was pure. Gentle to the touch yet stubborn as a bull, she made it hard to resist her. Unintentionally, she sank her hooks in me. She was the calm before my storm. A thunderous, darkening storm with lightning that graciously exposed the paternity of my brother and me. Though the gloom of it all lingered above both our heads.

Whole, I became, the moment God answered those prayers I put in and blessed me beyond measure. From that day, my priority has been and will always be catering to your every desire because you deserve a love that doesn't make you wonder, whimper, or worry. I've got that kind of love, and I'm here to give it to you.

A menace, I was, the duration of my life. Unsure of what was next, who was next, or where I was headed next. The only for-sure shit in my world was my paper and my people. The ice around my heart was still intact, never being penetrated or as much as tapped.

I am not a drug dealer. I am not a seller… I am not a handler… I am not an abuser… I am not a promoter… I am not a smuggler… However, I understand that I can not save the world or the people who have chosen those paths. So, making substances safer, grander, and extremely unique is my life’s work. What I have created can’t be duplicated, stepped on, or mistaken for anything else.

Inexplicable.

In this follow up, Mayor Hanover and Ms. Roads agreed to part until Wilde felt she was adequate enough to withstand the overflow of love that Jhalil was ready to afford her with. But, as we all know, distance makes the heart grow fonder. Wilde holds up her end of the bargain, but finds herself overwhelmed with the restless nights and days that seem to linger without the presence of her loved one. Jhalil, Relentless without shame, succumbs to his urgency to have her at his side once and for all after a brief brush in passing.

Months after their 24-hour encounter, thoughts of Wilde are still in heavy rotation. While Jhalil has made efforts to suppress his desires for the damsel in distress, his efforts prove useless when an unsuspecting visit catapults them both into familiar territory—laced with lust, agonizing desperation, emotional comfort, and fulfillment beyond one’s imagination.

Wilde Roads was dealt an evil hand in life, but is attempting to make the best of her situation without complaints or the need for recognition. Her story plays out the same each day with caring for her sickly son being top priority. The lack of insurance has her up to the neck in medical bills, which encourages to Wilde to pursue a life outside of the one she’d imagined for each of them. Some nights are wild. Others are reckless. But, the night that she encounters Jhalil Hanover, mayor of the city, Wilde falls victim to both.

Winning the heart of a heartless girl was deemed an impossible task. But, unbeknownst to me, Psalms ‘Sonnie’ Santoro was willing to visit the depths of the soil to retrieve that particular piece of me that I’d left to rot.

Ever had a man to put you first? Prioritize your presence. Emphasize your existence. Maintain his focus... on you? Over everything? As if it was nothing? I hadn’t either, not until him. Not until Harlem Knight.

I loved the way he made me feel. The way he warmed my insides and made my lady parts drum. I loved the way he looked at me, as if I was the best thing that God had created. And, just for him. His round eyes and solid frame was a source of inspiration. I found myself scribbling his features into my pieces. One after the other. Stroking my canvas as I imagined he'd stroke me. And, when he finally did, we'd make one unique piece.

I knew he was mine. From the minute I laid eyes on his rounds and my oxygen supply suddenly shortened, I was curious. But when he opened his mouth and his words serenaded my soul, I was convinced. And, when my heart stopped at the sight of his chest-rattling smile, I was concerned.