102 Minutes Novels & Stories

Emelia's home from college and she's done pretending to be a good girl. The second her mother's car pulls out of the driveway for a two-hour appointment, the bratty little tease makes her move. Wearing nothing but a soaked black thong, she struts into the living room, tits bouncing, and plants herself right between her stepdad Marcus's legs. "Tick-tock, Daddy," she purrs, slowly peeling the thong down her thighs so he can see how obscenely wet her tight pussy already is. "Mom's gone for two hours... but I only need fifteen minutes to climb on that thick married cock and ride you like a desperate little slut." Marcus tries to resist. He really does. But Emelia just smirks, spreads her legs, and starts rubbing her dripping cunt against the massive bulge in his pants. "I've been dreaming about this for months," she whispers, grinding harder. "I want you to stretch me open, Daddy. I want you to ruin my pussy and pump me so full of your hot cum that it's still leaking out when Mom kisses me hello later." She leans in, biting her lip with pure brat energy. "So what's it going to be? Are you going to be a good stepdad and send me to my room... or are you finally going to let your filthy stepdaughter bounce on your cock cowgirl style and beg you to breed me before she gets back?" Because Emelia isn't leaving until she gets exactly what she wants a deep, raw, creampie from the one man who's supposed to protect her. Some lines should never be crossed. Emelia's about to ride right over them.

This book has a mix of steamy erotic stories, each one with its own twist. Book 1: Best friends Yas, a woman consumed by her unrequited lust for her best friend Dian. What begins as secret fantasies escalates into deception, intense physical encounters, and emotional turmoil involving Dian's girlfriend, Trina. The story revolves around sexual tension between Yas and Dian, including themes of forbidden attraction, jealousy and the blurred lines between friendship and desire. Book 2: Seven Minutes. Bowie has spent her whole life being invisible, shy and quiet. She arrives at college expecting more of the same and the safety of anonymity, but her wild roommate has other plans. Dragged to her first frat party, Bowie gets pulled into a dangerous game of "Do or Drink" and draws a dare she can't refuse: seven minutes in heaven with Wesley Chen… the campus quarterback, the guy every girl wants and the one person she had been fantasizing about since the first day she saw him on campus. What starts as a reckless dare becomes an addiction. The rules between them are simple: no strings, no expectations, no public acknowledgment. ***Sneak peek: His fingers found my clit again, skin on skin this time. He circled slowly, then faster, and my hands flew to his shoulders, gripping him as my hips started moving on their own. "You are so responsive," he said, watching my face. "Every sound you make. Every twitch. I can read your body like a book." I was about to respond, but then he pushed two fingers inside me and everything went blank… ***CONTENT NOTE: Explicit sexual content, strong language, alcohol use, emotional conflict, themes of jealousy and trust. All characters are consenting adults.

This is my first time meeting my partner's family as their future daughter-in-law. A few minutes after taking my seat, my future mother-in-law, Joana Carrell, suddenly speaks up. "I've conducted a premarital test on you, but you've only scored 30 points. You have no right to marry into my family!" I never expect that I'll be tested, to begin with. The results leave me feeling shell-shocked. But Joana continues prattling on and on. "When you walked through the front door, the stool at the doorway was crooked, but you never readjusted it. You got ten points deducted for that. "The trash can in the living room was full, but you ignored it and never took the initiative to empty it. That'll be 20 points deducted. "When you washed the fruits in the kitchen, you saw a pile of dishes in the sink, and yet you didn't wash them. That's 40 points lost! "Altogether, you scored 30 points, which means you've failed the test. Hence, you aren't worthy of becoming a daughter-in-law of the Yarrow family!" I turn to look at my boyfriend, Anthony Yarrow, subconsciously, hoping that he'll defend me. But he keeps his head lowered and pretends to not hear anything. His reaction catches me off guard. But soon, my temper starts flaring. It turns out that the Yarrows have already plotted to put me through a trial that tests my submissiveness as soon as I walk through the front door. That's why Joana has been assessing me like I'm their future maid. Since they care about points that much, then I suppose they can kiss the million-dollar wedding gifts, the marital home located in the city center, as well as the businesses under my family goodbye.

"You called me a spoiled princess who wouldn't last five minutes in the real world." "You hacked my team's group chat and sent my rookie hazing photos to the entire athletic department." Ivy Chen and Nate Callahan have history. Bad history. So when a reality TV show, a brother's scholarship, and one NHL reputation crisis collapses them into the same luxury off-campus house, fake dating, shared bed, live cameras it should be simple. Pretend. Survive. Walk away. Except Ivy already knows something she can't unknow: her anonymous 2 a.m. best friend, the one she's been trading secrets and stupid hockey memes with for months, the one who feels like the safest person she's never met is him. Nate. Her brother's grumpy, broody, insufferable captain. The guy who stress-bakes at midnight after losses. Who has a hidden playlist of cheesy 2000s power ballads. Who looks at her sometimes like she's not a problem to solve anymore. "This isn't real," she reminds herself daily. The staged touches say otherwise. Because somewhere between sharp barbs softening into playful teasing, stolen kisses that linger way past necessary, and quiet unguarded moments the cameras never quite catch the list of reasons she can't stand him stops growing. Then comes the night after overtime, Nate still in his game-day suit, eyes warm in the low kitchen light. "So what happens when the cameras stop rolling?" His thumb brushes her jaw. Soft. Certain. "Who said we're stopping?" One semester. One championship run. One expiration date. Neither of them is counting down anymore.

The day of our Mating Ceremony finally arrived. As the Elder stood before the pack, his voice booming as he announced the exchange of our soul-binding rings, Julian—the man standing across from me—suddenly spoke. "Actually," he said, his voice cutting through the sacred silence. "I’ve been fucking Chloe." I froze. He didn't even blink as he watched the color drain from my face. "While you were busy trying on your ceremonial gown, we were in the dressing room right next to yours," he continued, his tone chillingly conversational. "She couldn't help but scream when she climaxed. You actually thought she was falling ill; you spent ten minutes checking on her through the door, worried sick." "Later, while she stood by your side helping you pick out jewelry, her legs were shaking so hard she could barely stand." In that instant, I felt the blood turn to ice in my veins. Stiffly, I turned my head toward the woman standing in the front row, wearing a radiant smile. Chloe. She was waving her bouquet, cheering my name at the top of her lungs. Just an hour ago, she had been brushing tears from her eyes as she straightened the train of my dress, squeezing my hands and telling me I deserved all the happiness in the world. "Even just now, while you were preparing for the ritual, she was riding me," Julian added, his voice dropping to a low, rough growl. "She got so worked up her claws shredded the skin on my back." He looked down at the silver band in his hand—the ring he had yet to slide onto my finger—with total indifference. "I’m laying it all out there, Elara," he said. "Whether you still want the title of Luna is entirely up to you."

My future mother-in-law, Diane Grant, loved setting rules. On the day I proposed, she sat there with that smug, superior look and told me if I wanted to marry her daughter, Olivia Grant, I had to pass her so-called "son-in-law training", which was three months working as a food delivery driver. She said she wanted to test whether I could handle hardship. For my fiancee's sake, I kept my identity hidden. I was the heir to one of the most powerful families in Crestfall City, and I agreed without hesitation. For three months, I shed every trace of privilege. I worked from dawn to night, delivering orders across the city. My parents didn’t understand. My friends disapproved. Mrs. Grant watched me like a hawk, picking me apart every single day. "Three minutes late? That’s a $3,000 penalty. The wedding shall be delayed by a month!" "Wrong unit delivery, bad review? $8,000 penalty. You don’t get to see Olivia this week!" Even then, I never gave up. Until the final day. I received an urgent order with a massive tip. The note was in bold: "Lifesaving medication. Immediate delivery." I sped through the streets, pushing myself to the limit. Just as I was about to enter the residential compound, Mrs. Grant stepped in front of me, blocking my way, her face full of disdain. Her voice shot up sharply. "The wedding gift goes up to $200,000. Not a cent less." I looked at her look of absolute certainty and suddenly laughed. My finger slid across the screen. The recipient of that urgent order was her precious son, Christopher Grant. I slowly put away the unlimited card in my pocket, along with the check I had prepared for a million-dollar wedding gift. Originally, I had planned to reveal my identity that day to give her the surprise of a lifetime. It seemed there was no need.

I yelped, squirming, but I quickly stopped myself because I knew that, judging by the position he had me in, one wrong move and I'd fall. And sure as hell, London wasn't going to catch me. The glint in his eyes said so. He had me trapped, subjected to taking whatever he was ready to dish without writhing. His head peeked up at me from in-between my legs, and he squinted before hoarsely saying, "Oh, and one more thing... not a single sound from you, and don't touch me. Don't say I didn't warn you." What? He wasn't expecting me to just shut my eyes and keep it in. Hell, soft were already leaving my lips when he was me like a deprived lunatic a few minutes ago, and now I was... "What?" I asked in blurry understanding. "Meaning, you're not allowed to make any sound, and you're not allowed to touch me, and that includes tugging on my hair; you'd give me a headache." He huskily said this before licking my inner thighs again, inching closer to my wetness. "Or else?" I dared to ask. He gave me a devilish smile before chuckling,"You're free to find out, no?" *************** London was a devoted Gamma in his former life but was reborn as the Alpha and Lycan King and harbors a deep hatred for women and the concept of a mate bond. Although he couldn't call his past life,he gets a second chance in his new life with a woman who had lost everything precious to her in one night, but he rejected her, and now his rejection might cause him to lose everything he had ever wanted, especially since his mate was hiding an important secret, or maybe he wouldn't since he doesn't give a damn.

No, you must want something, anything. If you can really help me get revenge on David and Lana, I can't just let you do it for free". Ethan went quiet for a while. I held my breath waiting for what his request might be. "You're right I do want something". He said after thinking for few minutes "What?" I asked slowly. " Until you get your revenge on David, Lana and every other person you want, you will live here". " Wha... What are you saying? ". I stammered hoping he wasn't saying what I thought he was saying. Ethan moved his face closer to mine be was so close, our nose almost touched. " I want you to be with me! " ... After a devastating divorce with the man she had been married to for over three years, Rachel thought her life was over. Her family disowned her, they wanted nothing to do with her anymore and she couldn't blame them. She had just divorced David Hart, one of the top successful bachelors in the country and heir to the Hart industries. But they would never understand that she didn't divorce him, he divorced her after she caught him cheating on her with her god-damned best friend! Rachel was just about to end everything by jumping off a bridge when she was saved by the most unexpected person. The boy she once bullied severally in highschool because he always wore ugly glass and was from a poor background, how come that glass make him so hot now? Why was he helping her get revenge on ex-husband who is trying to make her life even more miserable? And most important how did he get so handsome? What exactly does he want from her?

I stare at the email on my screen, unable to move my fingers. Tomorrow is our company's crucial product launch, and I just learn that the patent for the algorithm I spent three years developing is now filed under Matthew Ashford's new assistant, Sophie Bennett. I storm into Matthew's office to confront him. Sophie sits on his desk with her legs crossed, looking completely innocent. She claims that she filled out the form by mistake. "It's just a clerical error. The patent still belongs to the company. What's the big deal?" Matthew stands up from his chair, positioning himself in front of Sophie. I can't believe what I am hearing. "Matthew, this is my research!" "Emma, you're thirty-five. Why are you picking a fight with a twenty-three-year-old intern?" He frowns. Then, he turns to Sophie. "Starting tomorrow, you're the new CTO. Emma needs… some time off." I'm utterly stunned. A decade of marriage and five years dedicated to building a company together have been shattered by a few casual words from him. Thirty minutes later, Sophie posts a photo on social media of herself sitting on Matthew's lap. They are both clinking champagne glasses. "So lucky to have the best boss ever. I'll make sure to be his loyal kitten." Below that, Matthew leaves a comment—three red heart emojis. I shut my laptop and pick up my phone. "Hello. Is this Mr. David Langley from Novara Group of Sundale Valley? This is Emma Whitmore. I've changed my mind. I'm ready to join you." I pause. "And by the way, about that unreleased algorithm upgrade, I have the complete technical blueprint. Make me an offer." Later, I fly to Tallisport with an eight-figure check in hand, while Matthew goes frantic trying to find me.

On the day of my wedding, the video I had painstakingly prepared was suddenly replaced with intimate photos of my fiancé and my foster sister, Lindsey Remmington. Within minutes, it hit the top of the trending list. Overnight, I, a celebrated actress, became the abandoned bride of a wealthy family and a public laughingstock. Just when I thought I'd reached rock bottom, Connor Presley, the heir of Elluel City's most powerful family and the boy I'd grown up with, returned from abroad. In front of flashing cameras, he knelt with a diamond ring and proposed, silencing every rumor and every sneer. After we married, we appeared inseparable, our affection the picture of perfection. The only flaw was his infertility—his condition made it nearly impossible for me to conceive. For three long years, I underwent countless rounds of IVF. At last, I became pregnant. Connor was overjoyed. To celebrate, he threw an extravagant party in honor of our long-awaited child. But in the middle of the revelry, one of his closest friends, drunk and unguarded, muttered in Russian, "Connor, you've gone too far. Just because Lindsey was afraid pregnancy would ruin her figure, you put the zygote into Rachel's body and let her carry the baby for you two? If she ever finds out the truth, you'll regret it for the rest of your life." Connor's expression didn't waver. "This was Lindsey's only wish. I had to grant it," he replied coolly. "Besides, having a child with Lindsey has always been my dream. Only her child deserves to be the heir of the Presley family. The days ahead are long—I'll make it up to Rachel, eventually." I stood frozen, my body trembling uncontrollably. That night, I made an appointment for an abortion. When Connor stormed into the hospital, raging like a madman, I looked up at him with chilling calm and said, "I understand Russian."