Jm Fee

“I…” He cut himself off, hesitating, before trying again. The words he pushed out of his lips, shy but sure, surprised me. “I want to fuck you for a change.” My eyes widened, stunned. What? “I want to know if you cum from a cock in your ass,” he continued softly. If he knew who I was under this mask— Slight unease settled in my chest, but I already knew I would do it. I needed money… and the thought of sex with Aaron, in this way it was offered, was… scintillating. A new guilty pleasure. — There’s a pecking order at William-Alfie High School and Jack is at the top of it. But he shouldn’t. Because that pyramid is strictly held up by money, and over the summer Jack’s parents have gone bankrupt. They’ve managed to keep it a secret, but Jack has to work at a sex club to make enough to keep up the illusion at school. When Aaron Smithy, a usual pushover, stands up to him in the cafeteria, Jack is afraid word has started to spread especially after he puts Jack in his place and he still retaliates by giving him food poisoning. Except he didn’t. Aaron’s bravado ended in the cafeteria. But Jack keeps coming at him so he has no choice but to defend himself, even as he has bigger fish to fry as he slowly falls in love with a sex worker who has refused to show his face. By the end of the school year, their relationship has morphed into a tangled web of complexity that leaves Jack alone, naked and in the spotlight for all the wrong reasons. Will Aaron come to his rescue? Or will the newly-fallen shining star implode under it all?

After receiving his bonus, my husband, John Anderson, used his savings and bought his mother a house in the city. Considering my mother-in-law, Mary Anderson’s age, it was not ideal for her to stay alone in the countryside. Hence, I transferred the money without any hesitation. However, when John went to fetch his mother for house-viewing, she appeared unexpectedly before my door. “Helen, I can understand that you feel unwell due to your pregnancy, but my husband left me so little money. I can’t give it all to you.” I was dumbfounded. Just when I was about to clarify matters, my husband called me. “Helen, Mom doesn’t like this house. The other house she likes is three hundred thousand dollars more expensive. Quick, transfer me the money. “Oh, by the way, I’m afraid Mom will feel bad about this, so I didn’t tell her the actual price. When we visit her, please don’t accidentally tell her this information. I’m afraid she’d feel embarrassed.” I touched my flat belly. “Mary, did you say that I’m pregnant?” The next second, Mary’s phone started to ring. “Mom, Helen’s feeling uncomfortable, and she wants to buy a massage chair. Please send me more money!” Mary was also dumbfounded. “Aren’t you John’s wife?”

As soon as I get off the surgical table after my miscarriage, my husband, Presley Quinn, sends me a text message. "You were ten cents short when you paid your share of the power bill this month. Transfer the money to me immediately." I can only sit on the cold bench in the hospital on my own. The anesthesia has yet to wear out, but my belly is already hurting so much that I can practically feel it constricting on itself. The next thing I know, a new post appears on my social media homepage. It's a post made by Vivienne Ashford, the intern Presley is in charge of tutoring. In the photo, Vivienne can be seen holding a bouquet of flowers folded from money bills. A bright and radiant smile blooms on her face. The four-leaf clover necklace adorning her neck is the same necklace I've seen in Presley's purchase history two days ago. The caption of the photo writes, "I don't want a lot of money. I want a ton of love instead." Only then do I remember that today is Valentine's Day as well as my fifth-year anniversary with Presley. Over the past five years, Presley and I have been splitting every single bill, down to two decimal places. If I take a shower for more than 20 minutes, Presley demands that I pay extra for the water heater's power bill. When I cook myself some supper in the middle of the night, Presley wants me to split the gas bill generated by the stove. Even when my mom is hospitalized due to kidney failure and is waiting for her surgical bills to be settled, Presley refuses to lend me a single cent. Instead, he sends me a few links leading to web loans. As I stare at the social media feed, I chuckle all of a sudden. It turns out that Presley does know how to spend money. It's just that he doesn't have the heart to spend it on me. I smile once again as I leave a like on the post. Then, I transfer the ten cents to Presley. From now on, I don't owe him any single penny.

My mother-in-law, Mabel Grath, always liked me to arrange family trips. But she only transferred a small fraction of the cost. She called it a “deposit.” “I’m just following what you young people do with deposits. It’s not like I’m going to skip out on the rest.” After the trip, however, she never mentioned the rest of the payment again. I did not really mind. I quietly paid out of my own pocket for five-star hotels and luxury meals every time. Then one day, my husband’s sister, Marlene Grath, dropped a sarcastic comment in the family group chat. “Noelle Frost loves playing travel agent with my mom’s retirement money. “For all we know, she’s signing us up for cut-rate shopping tours and skimming the kickbacks.” Mabel replied with a smirking emoji. It seemed she was silently agreeing with her daughter. My heart sank. Over the years, I had taken them on trips all over the country and abroad. I had covered at least 100,000 dollars out of my own pocket. Yet, I still ended up looking like the one taking advantage of them. Mabel transferred four hundred dollars to me again and asked me to arrange a seven-day tour to Erope. So, I went ahead and booked them a one-day farm stay just outside the city.

"By day, I'm invisible. By night, I'm his darkest fantasy." Jane Puckett doesn't belong at Riverside Academy; not among the trust fund babies and silver spoon elite. She's the scholarship girl who keeps her head down and her grades up, desperate to survive four years in a world that wants her gone. Until she makes one fatal mistake: crossing Ace Monroe. Gorgeous, dangerous, and untouchable, Ace is campus royalty with a cruel streak and an axe to grind. After Jane tanks his grade on a group project he refused to touch, he makes it his personal mission to destroy her. Every day is a new humiliation. Every class, a fresh hell. But Ace doesn't know Jane's secret. When the sun goes down, Plain Jane becomes Jailbird; the most requested dancer at Fantasy Island, the exclusive club where lustful boys go to indulge their filthiest desires. It's the only way she can afford what her scholarship won't cover. The only way she survives. Then fate—or karma—walks through the door. On his twenty-first birthday, Ace Monroe buys a private dance from the masked siren who's been haunting the patrons of fantasy island. He doesn't recognize she is the girl he's been tormenting by day. But he is about to.

I was the perfect wife. The Senator’s daughter. The woman who smiled while her world burned. For three years, I played the part. I ignored the lipstick on my husband’s collar, the late nights, and the cold indifference. I accepted the "open marriage" I never asked for, just to keep the peace. But peace is a lie. And tonight, I’m done playing by the rules. One night of rebellion at the city’s most exclusive underground club was supposed to be my escape. Instead, it was a collision course with the past. The Mercer Brothers. Silas, the ruthless king. Dante, the violent enforcer. Julian, the beautiful psychopath. They were my brother’s best friends. The men who warned me to stay away. The monsters who run this city from the shadows. Six years ago, they told me to run. Tonight, they blocked the exit. I thought the night couldn't get worse—until I went home and found out the truth. My husband didn't just cheat on me. He gambled me away. He owes the Mercers millions, and he just offered me as the collateral. Now, I belong to them. They say they want to protect me. They say they want to ruin me for anyone else. Silas commands. Dante breaks. Julian corrupts. I thought I was walking into a prison, but as the walls close in, I realize the terrifying truth: I’m not the victim in this story. I’m the weapon they’ve been waiting for.