Bare Down Meaning Novels & Stories

"Genie" His voice was barely a whisper, his breath warm against the shell of my ear. "This is so wrong, we can't be doing this." His lips find their way back to mine, trailing the bottom lip with his tongue. "So so wrong" He pulled my lower lips in, biting on them. I stifled a moan. "I know," I managed to say. I could feel the warm slickness ache between my legs. "We shouldn't be doing this. You're my step brother." My body doesn't agree with what my mouth is saying. I snuggled closer into his chest wanting to feel the heat of his bare body against mine. I want his mouth against mine, ravaging me like he had done before. We have gone too far to back out now. "Take me, Ryder" Those were the words he needed. Only those three words. Suddenly, he grips the back of my thighs and lifts me up, forcing my legs to wrap around him. Planting me against the wall, he peers up and look straight into my eyes "You're mine" Then his lips came down on mine. I'm yours. I whispered back in the back of my head. ******** Ryder Saint, for years, has bullied me. Reasons? None. It was like he signed a contract from heaven to make my life hell. From the moment he set his eyes on me, he added my name to his list. Don't be fooled by his last name. It's a charade, he's not anything like it. Everything about Ryder Saint smells evil. His heart, dark. His soul, dark. His aura, dark. Except his face. I should have neglected him like I always have, but I couldn't when our parents decided to tie the knots and he became my stepbrother. He and I, under the same roof.

I am a vampire, and that is the truth. But the modern meaning of the word vampire, the stories that have been told about creatures such as I, are not precisely true. I do not turn to ash in the sun, nor do I cringe when I see a crucifix. I wear a tiny gold cross now around my neck, but only because I like it. I cannot command a pack of wolves to attack or fly through the air. Nor can I make another of my kind simply by having him drink my blood. Wolves do like me, though, as do most predators, and I can jump so high that one might imagine I can fly. As to blood--ah, blood, the whole subject fascinates me. I do like that as well, warm and dripping, when I am thirsty. And I am often thirsty.

During a long holiday, my husband booked flights for a family vacation. On the way to the airport, I suddenly saw numbers appearing on everyone’s head. The numbers on my husband’s head indicated sixty years, but my parents and I had only six hours indicated on our heads. While I was puzzled over the meaning of those numbers, I noticed that the driver next to us only had six seconds indicated over his head through the car window. Five… Four… Three… Two… One. When the number turned zero, a massive truck immediately rammed into the car next to us. I saw flickers of fire, flesh and blood exploding before my eyes. People were screaming for help, but I could not hear anything. I trembled as cold sweat drenched my entire body. It was because my flight would be taking off in six hours.

They call him useless. A man who eats his wife’s food, endures endless insults from his in-laws, and lives as a shadow in his own home. For three years, he has been the city’s biggest joke—the despised son-in-law who never fights back. But when fate stirs and long-buried secrets resurface, the man they mocked as worthless begins to show a different face. Behind his silence lies unimaginable power, wealth, and influence. Enemies who once toyed with him will kneel. Allies who doubted him will beg for his favor. And a wife who never believed in him will discover the true meaning of pride and love. This is the journey of a fallen man rising to his rightful place, where betrayal is punished, loyalty rewarded, and respect earned through fire and blood. The city thought he was trash. Soon, they will call him king.

Just because I post one picture with my younger brother, Lucas Gambino, his girlfriend Betty Gotti decides I'm the other woman. She rolls up to my place with her crew, live‑streaming the whole thing while they tear it apart. "Look at this puttana trying to steal my man!" Betty shouts to the camera. "She's got the face to flirt, but not the spine to admit it! Give me ideas, chat—I'll teach her some respect." Those psychos destroyed everything. My jewelry, my designer clothes, my bags… they didn't spare a thing. Not even the ring my parents left me. Then, with the viewers egging her on, Betty crossed the line. She had her girls strip me bare on stream. Her chat was going wild, donations pouring in—until my brother saw it. When Lucas kicked in the door to pull me out, I looked at him through eyes that burned. "Dump the girlfriend," I told him. "Or you can forget about ever being the Don."

A year ago, my life was simple. I was just Ariel Anthony…a regular college student, cheerleader with decent grades, daughter of a struggling baker, and recently appointed step-sister to a guy I barely knew. Nothing special. Then came the storm. Not just the thunderstorm that trapped me in Professor Grayson's apartment that night, but the storm that followed. The one that's still raging around me, that I created. They don't warn you about men like Luther Grayson in freshman orientation. They don't tell you how a single glance from the right person can make you question everything you thought you knew about yourself. About what you want. About what you'd risk to get it. They also don't warn you about guys like Ethan Cross, with his perfect smile hiding something dark. The kind of guy who's used to getting what he wants and doesn't understand the meaning of the word "no." And no one, absolutely no one…prepares you for what it feels like when the person who's supposed to be your brother looks at you with something else in his eyes. Mom once said I had a gift for making complicated situations worse. If she only knew. My phone buzzed beside me, and I glanced down to see Luther's name on the screen. My heart still jumps every time, even when I'm aware of what could happen if people learned about the two of us. I should ignore it. I should block his number, focus on my classes, help Mom with the bakery, and pretend none of this ever happened. But I'm already reaching for the phone. That's the thing about crossing lines… once you step over them, it's almost impossible to step back. And I've crossed so many lines now, I can't even see where I started.

Misha and her boyfriend had an agreement that something would happen between them in bed in exchange for his agreement to elope with her. Before that, they decided to go to a bar and get drunk so their first experience in bed would be wild. Misha returned to the hotel first, claiming her boyfriend wasn’t drunk enough yet. In an unexpected turn of events, Misha entered the wrong hotel room. She woke up to the sensation of a hard, long object thrusting in and out of her womanhood. She didn’t protest, as she immediately remembered their agreement. But she didn’t expect a warm fluid to be released inside her, which made her angry because that wasn’t part of the deal. Suddenly, the lights turned on. Misha’s eyes widened in shock when she saw that the person in bed with her wasn’t her boyfriend—it was her godfather, Everett. Misha’s world seemed to crumble in shame. But why was she staring so intently at her godfather’s bare, naked body? W-why did she suddenly bite her lower lip?

In the fifth year of my marriage to Cyrus Shields, I fell ill. Sparing no cost, he said that he would find the most compatible donor for me. A week before the surgery, I was knocked out by medication. When I woke up, I touched my hair only to feel a smooth, bare scalp. Florence Grant stood there holding a pair of clippers, her eyes gleaming gleefully. She said, "Gayle, since you're about to have surgery anyway, I thought I'd help shave it off for you." But a bone marrow transplant never required shaving one's head. "Who told you you could do that? That was my hair!" I roared, trembling with rage. Cyrus pushed the door and entered at that moment, saying, "Florence is still young. She's just a little bit mischievous. Gayle, don't make such a huge fuss over it." He paused and looked at me with a complicated gaze before saying, "Besides, she's the one donating her bone marrow to you."

I am Selene Moore, the fiancee of Callum Lowe, the Alpha of the Shadow Wolf pack. I am bound by a subservient love for six long years. Those werewolves back in the pack despise me, deeming me unfit to be the Luna of their pack. Callum, on the other hand, insists that I must smooth out my willful personality before proceeding with the bonding ceremony. Grandpa has been poisoned with wolfsbane and is dying, and the antidote he needs is one I can't afford. I approach Callum for help, but he dismisses me with accusations that I exploited the situation for attention. He therefore allows Natalie Anderson, his childhood friend, and her cronies to torment me. I repeatedly suffer their abuse in a desperate attempt to pay for Grandpa's treatment. In the end, Grandpa dies from poisoning, dying in despair. I become the docile woman Callum desired after Grandpa's death, and I cease my pursuit of him. I have also stopped loving him. Yet now, when the truth is laid bare, Callum seems to be filled with regret.

My breathing rate slowly increased on seeing his outstretched hand, and out of my gritted teeth, I asked, "Did you poison this food?" There was no slight change in his face as he answered me coldly, "I would rather choke you to the bed with my bare hands, Senorita. That way, you'll curse out my name" My eyes dimmed for a moment. Was this devil in an armani suit still talking about murder? "Now, open your mouth!" He commanded and my stomach rumbled in protest. My lips vibrated and I tried to hold the hot tears forming inside of my eyes. I couldn't stay longer with this hunger. As long as I'm not submitting to be his slave then I could come to a compromise. .. .. Her name is Sofia Di Marco; surviving heir of a powerful mob family. After a decade of hiding from the Italian government She finally steps out to start a new life but she bumps that new life into a mystery billionaire man who turns out to be the King of the New York Underground. That was his identity, but to her, he was Mr. Pompous; the raging green-eyed Devil in an Armani suit.....