Novels by Celine

Jasper didn't feel anything to the new promise—the promise the pair would be back in the courtroom soon, speaking of a man half the girl's flesh. He had thought he'd feel at least a twinge of angst to the idea... but suddenly, he felt it would be nothing close to even an effort if the girl was in it with him.

"You bìtch," The man spat the words as she tore her arm from his grip, fingertips tightening threateningly. "Just wait and you'll see me there—in fact, you'll see me far sooner than you think. You're still mine,"

Ambiguous. It was something ambiguous.The act of holding someone's eyes, connecting Irises shattered and bottomless. The act of eye contact. The act of something so v

Genevieve sighed the words, her hands clutching his, nails delicately biting the skin of his knuckles. She raised her hips from the mattress to meet his. He lowered his lips to the skin of her neck as his lengths became steady, her legs holding the man against her.He groaned against her skin as he moved between her thighs, finally lifting his lips to her own once more. Her thin moans failed to slow - lips moving against his with an unusual chorus of gasps and pleasured whimpers.

There was something oddly subtle about the way sunlight of a youth fell against the ivory skin of a familiar girl. Her frame had become kin of the sheets, Jasper's hand kin of her skin. She writhed and gasped in the light of morning, lips parted by a wide girth of breath, eyebrows knitted and fingers clasping on the dishevelled, crumpled linen of the bedding beneath her.The man lay above her, watching gasping breaths tumble from between her collarbones and through her lips as he offered her sweet, small smiles.

The man smiled with her words, hands lifting affectionately to the frame of Genevieve's face, marked by her ears. Their eyes remained fixed on one another's comfortably, breaths warm together. "You're somehow hexing, kitten,"Her heart stammered in her chest as if it were to be fumbling, stuttering at a loss of words; a loss of breath and inner balance, tipped by a shy affection as his words played with the spoiling of her heart. "I like that one,"

In a matter of seconds, Damon hooked his hands beneath the girl’s arms and grunted half-silently as he lifted her against the counter only a mere half-meter or so from the vegetables he ought to have been boiling by now. Not a moment later was she unbuttoning her jeans—and somehow, she was far too distracted by watching as he made work of his belt and met her lips feverishly with a deep kiss to note the coolness of the marble counter against her bare ass. Or the fact that they ate meals cooked from that very counter.“Maybe we should go to the bedroom,” the

“I was bailing James out of jail for a DUI,” She spoke quickly in a way she’d hoped would leave emphasis on the boy’s now not-so-clean criminal record rather than how she came upon the money she’d used. For the most part, it seemed to have worked.Damon, as he spoke, began to wave around the chopping knife rather threateningly to the boy who was, for once, nowhere to be seen. While his first instinct was to pick up the phone and organise the parent meeting that Sasha so dreaded, his only thought in the moment was exactly how much he

"Foster, thank god! Never have I been happier to see you—I can tell you that much," Sasha watched the boy approach her, rubbing his wrists as though he had been cuffed and smiling wearily as though he had seen more jail brawls than he could count on two hands. Perhaps he had been cuffed. Hours ago. "Who knew i'd have to pay a twenty-five hundred pound fine to make you love me," She turned away from his offering embrace and began to approach an exit before she could watch his face fall from the rejection. "They're taking your license, you know. Your parent

Damon could have groaned, himself, as he found a pair of slender hands gripping his shoulders eagerly and he found the skin beneath her underwear... the warmth. Sasha closed her eyes and pressed her lips together as she felt his fingertips inch towards the very centre so pained with anticipation—"Why lie about something so stupid?" And then her breathing hitched as a finger inched inside of her rather slowly and she wished so dearly she could squirm out of her jeans and ride his hand. But she couldn't. She was meant to be angry with him.

Sasha couldn't summon the will inside of herself to wipe the tears that fell just as Damon's did. And though her shoulders shook as she spoke the words she wished she could, would and did believe, she refused to meet the eyes that drew to hers with the same pleading sense. Though she could feel his gaze and she could feel the light brush of his exhale on her shoulder, she couldn't bring herself to face the man she had worked so hard over the last two and a half hours to block out. She didn't want him to look at her, to make her want to look at him. She didn't want him to breathe on

"She left me — I loved her for years and years and then she came back and I couldn't help but believe her when she said things were better than they actually were," Sasha watched Damon as she hesitantly lifted a hand to rest on the man's shoulder and his hands fell into his lap. After a long moment, his eyes moved to hers — and then she saw it. For the first time, at least that she had ever seen... he was crying. Her heart sped up even further. "I was stupid to ever think that things with her were or would b

Blue’s toes curled as the man’s breath shot out along her thigh and the absence as he drew away forced a shiver. With furrowed brows, her eyes met his, met with a twisted smile, narrowed eyes and fingers flexing on her knees. “What are you doing?” “What do you want me to do?” the murmur alone kindled her longing to the point she was sure she could beg, watching restlessly, goosebumps rising from the cold.

The most Vincent had done in the ten hours since Blue had told him to leave was pour himself a drink, pour it straight down the drain, sit on the couch in near darkness and wish he had done more to protest. By the time the front door finally opened, he found himself struggling against fatigue as he was torn so carelessly from a surface level dream of Blue asleep on the couch next to him; curled in a ball between the corner of the sofa and himself—knees in his lap, head on his shoulder, arms tucked into his chest

Blue found it rather hard to engage with anyone at the dinner table, though her input hadn’t been missed. Richard had been chatting happily for a time she didn’t care to note about his cars and the new house he bought on the suburbs. The suggestive nod towards its family appeal was lost on Blue. Just as the comment on his Porsche SUV and all its passenger capacity fell on deaf ears. She was rather distracted by the fact that Richard was sat by her side in the very seat that had been Vincent’s at the fateful brunch. And if not by Richard’s presence alone, by the rampant questions and confusion that had arisen from Vincent’s detective work in a way that translated directly into anger… and hurt.

Richard leaned in with an intent Blue couldn’t quite determine—as he inched close enough she could taste the food on his breath, she considered the value of her life. There was a certain cruelty, she found, in her sentence. Was she really to spend the rest of her life with the one person she somehow hated more and more by the day? To be a servant to a powerful man with a disproportionate ego. No self-determination. No purpose outside of attending events by his side and giving him as many children as he desired. And as she sucked in an involuntary breath, she received a vivid reminder of the repulsiveness that shrouded Richard rather exclusively.

“Lovely, isn’t it? That your parents would go through all this effort for us,” Blue forced a bitter smile to Richard, the man who had the meat of her thigh in his hand in a way he’d be able to squeeze warningly when her tongue got a bit loose. She feared, after one too many witty remarks and cold stares in his direction, that the print of his hand would begin to show. Even then, she was sure that Marian would not mind one bit. She seemed perfectly content watching her only daughter be violated by the man

For summer, New York hadn’t quite gotten as warm as Blue had expected. She found that, even with an additional blanket, there was nothing she wanted quite as much as the strong embrace of a particular man—warm enough to make her sweat stark naked with the windows open and the air conditioning in overdrive. And yet her pride made good work of keeping him away.&n