By Azure Boone
Sofia follows a dare and units an appointment with the recent gynecologist she's crushing on. After an embarrassing sequence of occasions, she feigns a diabetes assault, leaves his workplace and prays she by no means sees him back. days later, she meets him within the grocery store and he asks her to dinner.
Daniel bargains together with his darkish prior via pleasuring girls. Very selective with who he chooses for his erotic video games, his subsequent to be had selection, Sofia, doesn't degree as much as the type of girl he wishes. yet along with his techniques close to 0, he comes to a decision to take an opportunity, and shortly discovers that pleasuring Sofia opens a door to a lucrative new wish.
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Additional resources for Broken Series: Broken Desires/Broken Lies/Broken Souls (Broken, Books 1-3)
Fi asked anxiously, trying to move the heavy sack of spuds from near the head of one of the lambs. ’ Callously I went and picked some mint when we got back to my house. That short walk to the mint was almost the end of me though. As I bent down to cut it I felt my great black shadow return, hovering above me like an eagle, a predator. I was scared to look up. The night was dark enough anyway, but I knew that however dark the sky may have been, my tagging shadow was darker. The mistake I’d made was to go to the mint patch on my own.
I shouted at him. I was completely bewildered. ’ He shook his head and waved his arms around. He didn’t seem able to answer. But Chris, who was trembling but becoming suddenly and amazingly calm, answered for him. ‘Homer had a shotgun in his pack,’ he said. ’ Fi gasped. We all looked at Homer in shock. We’d talked about our meagre little stock of weapons a few times and agreed that with such limited firepower we were better off with nothing. We knew if we were caught with weapons on us we were gone, one hundred per cent certain.
I don’t know what was going on in my head: I seemed haunted by the idea that I had to hide, that I daren’t be on my own. There was a sense that doom was overshadowing me, and like a rat threatened by an owl I wanted to burrow under something. Only, unlike the rat, I wanted to get under a human being, not a thing. Seems like since that night I’ve done less of everything: less sleeping, less eating, less talking. I feel I’m less of a person because I killed a dying soldier and that now I do less living.