Who Created Tales To Keep You Awake?

When I was seven, my constant vomiting got so bad that my mother took me to court and accused me of being born dangerous. If the charge stuck, I would be stripped of my family ties and sent straight to prison. Everyone said my mother was overreacting. "He's just a kid. Kids get sick. As his mother, you should be more understanding." But the moment the evidence was shown, the room went dead quiet. My mother had drunk herself into a stomach bleed just to land a contract, and the second she got home, I threw up all over it. The deal was voided, and she lost her job on the spot. On my sister, Ophelia Sowle's, birthday, I threw up all over her cake right in front of all her classmates. After that, she was shunned by everyone at school. She spiraled into depression and even slashed her wrists. It didn't matter where I was, at the dinner table or under the covers. I could start vomiting at any moment. My mother and Ophelia had to clean me up more than 30 times a day. It wore them down to the breaking point. What infuriated them the most was that every time I finished throwing up, I would look at them and laugh, as if I was mocking them. The judge brought the gavel down and declared me guilty of being born bad. Ophelia's eyes turned red as she cried, saying she couldn't bear to lose me. I didn't cry or fight it. I accepted the verdict. But I requested that the judge watch my memories first. The judge looked stunned. "Memory extraction means drilling into your brain. The pain is unbearable. Are you sure?" I nodded without hesitation. But Ophelia suddenly panicked. "I don't agree!"

I was getting a spa treatment at a beauty salon when Phoebe called. "I just saw Derrick buying jewelry for a woman at the mall." "Got it." "Aren't you going to catch him in the act?" "No need." I gave birth three months ago. After the spa, I needed to hit the gym, and by five, I had to pick up William. I had no time for this nonsense.

Meet Clarissa Monroe a young lady in her teen who resides in Chicago USA. All around her the latest news in town is about a game which to her are just baseless rumors, in which the rules of the game states that if you fail you lose someone close to you, everyone believes it to be true but she doesn't, if this game truly exists with the vast population of people talking about this game why aren't they dead yet? Why isn't there news of the reduction of population ? Does that mean that people never fail?Do you think it's just a game or it has more to it...?

For four years I was his secretary, and for four years I warmed his bed. I knew everything, from his family business to the secrets he whispered to me at night. But to him, I was nothing more than a toy he could summon whenever he pleased. The moment his first love, Sofia Costa, flew back into the country, he humiliated me without a second thought. He kissed her in a Sicilian church, abandoned me on a rain-soaked road with a gash ten inches long on my calf, and later dismissed me with a cold, cutting line. He said I was someone unimportant, someone he could simply ignore. She waved the tulip plush he'd given her in front of me. "I'm the only one he loves. You were just a stand-in." While I rebuilt my life in Chicago and finally found some peace, this ruthless Mafia don knelt outside my door, eyes red with emotion. "Elena, come back to me." I kicked his hand away with a smile. "Your so-called devotion disgusts me."

She thought he was a stranger. She didn't know he was already everywhere. Alie's life is unraveling-her career, her relationships, her confidence. The last thing she expects is to catch the attention of Caine Blackthorne, a reclusive billionaire whose dark allure is matched only by the shadows in his past. What begins with anonymous gifts and subtle gestures quickly twists into something far more dangerous. He knows her secrets. He controls her choices. And no matter how hard she tries to escape, his voice is always there in the silence: You're mine. Drawn to the man who terrifies her, Alie finds herself caught between fear and desire. But when obsession turns to captivity, she'll discover that loving a man like Caine comes with a price-one she may not survive.

***Explicit 18+*** "I've missed the warmth of your pussy, the feel of it. God Ginevra, you're so fucking perfect." I rasped and tightened my grip on her. I began rocking her against me ever so gently with parted lips. Her tight pussy very often gripping unto my dick, taking me hostage with each rock against me and a loud scream finally escaped from the back of my throat. *** The game of chess is one love cannot salvage. When the king and the queen come out to play, they have no other goal set before them if not going at each other's throat for the kill until a winner emerges. This is the game of the mafia, the game that'd never allow Love exist between two rivals. They want to love and care for each other but don't know how- all they've known all their lives is loyalty to their famiglia and name. What would happen when the only option becomes death?