If I Did It: Confessions Of The Killer

Victor murmured 'Happy Birthday Misha' as he fed me a small piece of cake. Wait! Why was he sounding so husky all of a sudden? Stop it! As usual, I was imagining things. I shook my head as I sliced a piece of cake with cherry and tried to feed him. But the icing was soft, and the cake began to slip away from my fingers. Victor grabbed my hand...(Oh my! I will remember this day forever!)... Closed his mouth around the cake and my fingers! And a hot rush which started somewhere in my core began to spread inside with lightning speed and I felt my cheeks burn. His mouth was so warm and his lips, they were everything I imagined them to be, and more. My lips parted as I watched him close his eyes and lick my fingers. There was something so sensual and possessive about it that I began to wonder the same thing all over again. Does Mr Popular and youngest pilot from his academy, Victor Matthews finally got a clue that I have been secretly in love with him all these years?

The largest collection of first-person accounts sharing their steamy tales of seduction and temptation. From LA to Sydney, Paris to New York, Stockholm to Singapore, Manhattan to Malaysia, these hand-picked bestsellers will be your perfect bedside companion. The confessions might shock, amuse or excite but you'll find what you're looking for over here ;)

Wet Confessions Thirty Taboo Tales You’ll Never Forget Some secrets are whispered. Some are moaned. And some are written between trembling thighs. From steamy offices and dimly lit confessionals to forbidden bedrooms and midnight rendezvous, Wet Confessions is a raw, unapologetically sexy collection of 30 taboo short stories that explore the desires we hide behind closed doors. Every story is a sin dressed in silk. Every character is someone you shouldn’t want but do. And every ending leaves you aching for more. These are the fantasies you never say out loud. The confessions you’d only whisper in the dark. And the kind of love you’re not supposed to crave. Read if you dare. Want more when you're done.

"Bless me daddy, for I have sinned." Geoff Vasily was a sick bastard. He was depraved. I knew something was off about him the moment I saw his slicked golden hair and stony gray eyes. I used to live a cheap, albeit independent life supporting myself and my mother, despite my eighteen years of existence. The day he walked into the cafè, I knew the Devil had just walked into our lives. I told her not to take the card, but she didn't listen. Now, he doesn't even look at my mother. He's fixated on me. My stepfather. My doom.

I had been married to Natasha Bates for ten years, and not once did she ever join me for our family's Independence Day cookout. This year, on the night before the celebration, I finally gathered the courage to ask if she wanted to come. She scoffed and said, "What are you, stuck in the past? Who even celebrates the Fourth with a family dinner anymore?" Yet that very evening, I saw a social media post of Natasha with her male best friend, Stanley Rogers. They were quite intimate in the picture, and the caption read: [True happiness is celebrating Independence Day with your bestie!] I commented back: [Hope you two lovebirds make it official soon.] Stanley did not hold back. He messaged me a bunch of intimate photos of the two of them. Then, he added, [You're just a leech living off his wife. What right do you have to question anything about Nattie?] Everyone always thought I was a gold-digger living off Natasha's success. However, they all forgot that I was the sole major shareholder of the company. This time, I’m done staying silent.

A car accident leaves me unconscious for a full three years. When I wake up, my family bursts into tears of joy. They care for me with the utmost attention. But from their behavior, I sense something is wrong. There are women's clothes in the house that don't fit me. My mother's shopping cart is filled with mysterious baby items. My father's friends send congratulatory messages about a new child, and my husband is always working overtime. When my husband once again leaves me alone under the pretext that there is something urgent at the company, I secretly follow him. Inside a warmly decorated house, my parents and husband sit around a table. A woman who looks almost exactly like me is holding a baby just a few months old, gently coaxing the child to call my husband "Daddy".