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161. The man of life
UHASAHello readers, Did you get butterflies too?
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Tuberose 162. Satisfaction
Jack's POV -Finally, Chloe is my wife. I can't express my gratitude to God for giving me her as my life partner. She is closing her eyes with trembling lips which are surely craving to be smashed by my lips. I follow her wish and it takes minimal time when I find my hands to explore her skin.I squeeze her boobs by moving away from her strapless bra. "Ummph. J-Jack." She releases a sweet moan and I explore her mouth with my tongue. Her erect nipples are being kneaded into my palms and I am grinding her core with mine. The room is turning hotter though the temperature is enough to make anyone cover themselves with blankets.I trail my kisses from her chin to her neck and lead my right hand to her pussy. Once I insert my finger inside her panty, I realize that she is already wet and a smirk appears on my lips. I intake her right nipple in my mouth and keep rubbing her clit to bring her on the edge."Argh, Jack. Just do it already." It's not only me but she is also desperate after a whil
Tuberose 163. How can I get her back?
Ema's POV -My heart races as Michael's strong arms cradle me in a bridal carry, carrying me towards the bedroom. The anticipation in the air fuels the heat building between us, and my breath catches as he gently lowers me onto the bed. Our kisses are electric, igniting a passionate fire that has long smoldered between us. His lips find mine, trailing a burning path from my mouth to my neck, igniting my skin with each touch. My heaving chest is showing my excitement and longing.The intensity of our connection is electrifying, but then something shifts. As Michael gets on his knees between my legs and spreads them apart, his gaze transforms into something sinister, a wolfish glare that sends shivers down my spine. His eyes, once filled with desire, are now filled with a burning hatred that pierces right through me."So, it was you," he hisses, his voice dripping with venom. "All of it was a trap."Fear claws at my throat, rendering me speechless. I struggle to grasp the meaning behind
Tuberose 164. Self-Vow
Michael's POV -I speed down the familiar winding road, the trees, and fields a blur of green and brown as I make my way to the farmhouse. I don't want to face my dad right now, not after everything. They were all right – Dad, Jack, everyone – they were all right about Abigail. She didn't cheat on me, and I didn't listen to anyone.I glance at my phone and see Abigail's photo. I reach out and touch it as if I can somehow reach through the screen and find her, asking for her forgiveness. My throat tightens, and I can feel the lump building as I recall the things I've said and done to her. I called her terrible names – slut, whore, prostitute, escort – and for what? Because I let my insecurities and doubts get the best of me.And then there's the unforgivable act, the one that haunts me the most. I pushed her, physically pushed her, and it led to the loss of our unborn child. I can't keep calling it an accident. I can't keep pretending that I wasn't responsible. I killed our baby.I pull
Tuberose 165. Regression
Michael's POV -We sat there, a trio of worry etched into our faces, waiting outside the hospital cabin. My anxiety is palpable; I keep fidgeting with my hands, glancing at my phone as if time is passing too slowly.Then, like a breath of fresh air in this tense atmosphere, Abigail appears. My heart skips a beat as she runs toward us. She envelops Chloe in a tight hug and asks the question that has been haunting all our minds."Chloe, how's Mr. Pattinson doing?" Abigail inquires, her voice laced with genuine concern.Chloe, her eyes reflecting relief and exhaustion, gives Abigail a reassuring smile. "He's stable now, Abigail. The doctor says he'll need to stay for a few days, though."Jack, who has been silently observing the scene, adds, "It's a relief. He gave us quite a scare."The doctor emerges from the cabin, a briefcase in hand, and approaches us. "I understand you're concerned about Mr. Pattinson. He's stable now, as I mentioned earlier. We've conducted some tests, and it appe
Tuberose 166. Will make her mine, anyhow.
Michael's POV -Five days have passed since Dad's discharge from the hospital. During those days, I had the chance to see Abigail when she visited him. Each fleeting moment with her was like a bittersweet taste of the past, a reminder of what I had lost. Now, those moments would be gone, and I couldn't bring myself to reach out to her.After dinner, I find myself drawn to Abigail's study table, surrounded by all the things she loves. I had kept her favorite items here for all these months, a silent tribute to the love I had allowed to slip away. I touch each item with a mixture of love and regret as if by doing so, I can somehow turn back time.Unable to sign the divorce papers, I open a drawer and discover a collection of diaries, each one engraved with a number, from 1 to 9. Abigail's diaries, I assume. It feels wrong to invade her privacy, but a longing to understand her more fully overcomes me.The diary opens to a page when she was just eight years old. Her words paint a picture o
Tuberose 167. Lost the Love Forever
William's POV -My knuckles tighten around the steering wheel as I speed toward home. Today, I'll make Abigail mine, and she won't be able to deny it, not with the contract hanging over her head. It's not what I wanted, not how I envisioned winning her, but now, I see no other choice. Michael knows the truth, and I can't allow him to have a second chance with her. Abigail is meant to be mine, and I'll do whatever it takes to ensure that.My mind churns with a toxic mix of anger and frustration, Ema's face haunting my thoughts like a specter. The truth has a way of unraveling even the best-laid plans, and I can't afford to let Michael interfere with what I've worked so hard to achieve.I storm through the front door, my impatience and fury simmering beneath the surface. But as I step into Abigail's room, all words escape me. There she is, on the floor, groaning in pain, her hands clutching her head as if trying to contain some unbearable agony.My anger dissipates instantly, replaced by
Tuberose 168. Truth Revelation
Michael's POV -Chloe's response is like an icy dagger to my heart. "She's better, as I told you earlier, don't worry." Her tone is distant, and I can feel the weight of their collective resentment pressing down on me. It's a burden I've earned through my own actions, and honestly, it's one I share.Desperation seizes me, and I can't help but plead with Chloe, "Can I see her for once?"Her gaze doesn't meet mine as she twirls her fork through a plate of noodles. "No, you can't. No one can go in there. I've only seen her through video calls. After all these months, I saw her for the first time at my wedding, and then it was because of Uncle's medical reasons."I'm filled with an overwhelming urge to connect with Abigail, to see her face, to hear her voice, even if it's just through a screen. "Then call her, please. I won't come in front of the camera. I just want to see her for once. And whoever is with her, can you ask them to massage her thighs? It might make her feel better." My voic
Tuberose 169. Hope to be forgiven
Michael's POV -As I wait a little distance away from William's home, I can feel my heart pounding with anticipation. The driver has given me the signal, and now I'm just waiting for the green light to proceed. "I'm coming, Abby," I whisper under my breath. "And it's a promise to you that you'll be free from that contract soon. Whether you forgive me or not, I won't let you suffer for my mistakes."A message pops up on my phone, interrupting my thoughts. 'Sir, it's time to come to the gate. And did you wear a white shirt and black pants?' I respond with a quick affirmative, 'Yes, I am coming,' before making my way towards the entrance.The driver greets me with a faint smile. "Sir, you should wear a more ordinary attire. You look too expensive to be just a staff member."I grimace, realizing that my extravagant outfit might draw unwanted attention. "Will they recognize me?"The driver shrugs. "Maybe not." With that, we begin our approach. He hands me an ID card, which I hang around my
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