Devotion Romance Short Stories & Seduction Novels

My husband Preston smashed up the solo art show I'd spent three years building for Vivian, the poor girl we had sponsored through college. "Chloe! What the hell did you send Vivian?!" "She read your goddamn text and suffered a depressive episode! She nearly jumped off the rooftop!" I looked at his furious face and the whole thing struck me as absurd. "Preston. What exactly did I send? I told her that today was the opening of my show and asked her not to call you during it." "She's sick! Why do you have to make every little thing a fight! If anything happens to her because of you — I'll never forgive you." With that, he didn't even glance at me. He turned and bolted back out into the storm. I didn't cry. I didn't even have the energy to be furious. I turned to leave, but in the rain, I ran into Rowan—a classmate from college. He used to be the most popular guy at our school — sweet and hot. But now he was severely injured. The torrential rain had soaked his shirt, revealing his perfect abs beneath. Without hesitation, I took him back to my apartment. Preston showed up pounding on the door, eyes red with rage. "Chloe — I'm gone for an hour and you drag some guy off the street into our bed?" I sneered and stepped in front of Rowan. "If you can play free therapist to some other woman, why can't I try being a philanthropist?"

We had been married for three years, yet my husband, Richard Thornton, who suffered from touch deprivation syndrome, still refused to consummate our marriage. Every time his condition flared up, he would only press his forehead tightly against the curve of my neck. I assumed he was saving himself for his first love, the woman who had left years ago. Then, I overheard him talking to his friends. "Stop teasing her next time. It makes her tense up every time." "Got it, Richard. But if you care about Valeria so much, why won't you touch her? It's been three years. Aren't you worried she'll leave you for someone else?" Richard shook his head. "You don't understand. The longer we're together, the harder it is to control myself around her. She's so delicate. I'm terrified I'll hurt her. As long as she's mine, I wouldn't care even if she slept with someone else first." His friends burst out laughing. "Richard, you're all talk. If you could really handle her being with another man, you wouldn't keep running to the hospital. You think we don't know what you're up to?" The next day, I found Richard's medical records. Visit after visit, he kept asking the same question, "How can I be gentler in bed? I don't want to hurt the woman I love."

I've been with Dominic Hayes, a gang leader, for ten years. But on the day he goes clean and leaves the underworld behind, his men address someone else as his woman. The hands that once held guns and spilled blood now gently slip a crystal shoe onto another woman's foot. He says, "Violet, she's not like you. You were willing to follow me through chaos without needing a title, but she can't do that." That day, I don't look back. What Dominic doesn't know is that I'm the only daughter of an underground mafia king. When my family found out I was running wild, they quietly prepared a good man for me. All that's left is for me to say yes.

In the underground casino, my ex-fiancé Don Dante Castellano threw the card in my face. His arm was around Sabrina—his first love—and his eyes were ice as they shoved me toward the table. "Your father owed mine a life. The thing in your belly isn't mine." He pressed the card flat against my cheek. "The daughter pays the father's debt. Tonight you're the living chip on that table." The paternity test was fake. The child was his. I knew. He didn't believe me. That night, with a gun pointed at my head, I took off all my clothes in front of everyone. Two years passed. Two years later, in Vegas, he saw me again. I was in a red silk dress with a gold chain around my neck, the other end of the chain held by a yellow-toothed gambler. "This bitch is cheap. Bark for me, and all these chips are yours." I picked up the chips, practiced. "Woof. Woof." Sabrina pressed her face into his chest, covering her nose. "Dante. This is disgusting. Let's go." He didn't go. The veins rose along his temple. He was staring at the bruises on my knees. Then he kicked the gambler across the room. He bent down and took hold of my chin. Hard. "Sienna. Money, and you'll do anything at all?" He was close enough that I could smell him. Soap. Two years, and still the same soap. I closed my eyes, opened them, pulled my mouth into a smile for him. "That's right, boss. Pay up and I'll cooperate with whatever position you want. Care to buy a round?"

Nathaniel Reid had always despised being bound by our engagement. To spite me, he recklessly raced cars and caused trouble, indulging in all sorts of reckless behavior. And every time, I cleaned up his mess. Then, a girl named Joanna Smith appeared in his life. On the night of my birthday banquet, he scoured the entire city for a simple breakfast wrap for her and never even bothered to show up. I had already prepared for this moment. That night, I approached my family and asked to change the engagement. "It didn’t have to be Nathaniel." I thought of the distant, composed man from my dreams—the one who had always hidden his quiet, unwavering love for me. A smile flickered across my lips as I said softly, "Didn’t he still have an uncle?"

My childhood friend, Flynn Carter, is the college's undisputed ice hockey star and campus heartthrob. Too bad he has a secret no one knows about. Because he's "allergic" to women and hates physical intimacy, he's stayed single well into adulthood. Over time, rumors have spread around campus that there's something wrong with him in that department. But no one will ever guess what this cold, unapproachable god is like once he comes home. One night, I return to the apartment we share after my evening class. I walk in just in time to see Flynn holding my freshly washed bra in his hand, a faint crease between his brows as he asks, "Why do you even have pink ones?"

I had just become an adult when my neighbor, Connor Grayson, started flirting with me. We kept our relationship a secret year after year. After a wild night of intimacy, Connor whispered into my ear that he loved me over and over again. The next morning, I could barely stand as I got out of bed. Then I saw Connor bring another woman home. "Selena, this is my fiancée. We're getting married." I thought Connor would let me go. I didn't want to ruin anyone's relationship. However, he wouldn't leave me alone despite my shameful predicament. "Yes, I'm getting married, but did I say you could go? It took a lot of effort to make you fall for me."