A Miserable Little Pile Of Secrets Mga Nobela at Kwento

"Fuck.." I moan as my feverish skin makes me dizzy with lust. [Yes.] "Evet, Mila. You make me want to ravage you when I should be disgusted by the thought of even touching you." He mutters. "But I'm not. Instead, everything about you makes me mad with desire and I can not control it. God's, I tried to but I don't want to anymore." He removes his hand from the wall, wrapping his fingers around my jaw and he forces me to stare up at him. "You've already had a taste of me and one taste is all you get." I swallow loudly, throwing his words back at him. >>> When it comes to my prince charming, my life has been anything but a fairytale. The Esposito family robbed me of all I held dear to my heart. From the depths of my dignity to the depths of my son. I was living in continual terror; my body, as well as my trust and beliefs, were being exploited. Until one fateful day, I gained the strength to flee, dashing into an Irish bar and meeting a Turkish man. I stayed with him for the night before being compelled to return to the house of terrors. After being thrown down a flight of stairs 37 weeks later, I gave birth to my son. I knew who the father was the moment my son's gaze met mine, but I opted to keep it to myself. However, destiny had other plans for me, and I begged my son's biological father for protection as I fled the Italian mafia. We will work together to rescue our son and demolish their network, all while finding love along the way. My name is Mila Starkk, and this is my Screwed Up Love Story.

“If you want me to keep your secret, you have to do one thing for me in exchange,” he said, his lips curled up slightly. “What thing?” Aurora narrowed her eyes, alarmed at the direction of the conversation. “Never never share the same bed with my brother,” he demanded, his alpha dominance rolling off him in waves, making her want to bare her neck for submission. But Aurora straightened her back and challenged him head-on. “Why? I’m his wife,” Aurora stated with a neutral expression on her face. She and her husband were a fake couple, but he didn’t have to know that. The fewer people who knew, the more favorable the situation was to her. “I’m supposed to…” “You are mine!” he released a deep guttural growl. The possessiveness shown in his words and eyes made Aurora both startled and baffled. He stalked to her in calculated steps, his eyes glinting with a deep well of want and desire under the moonlight. Aurora started to retreat cautiously until her back hit a hard wall. In a flash, he was in front of her, his arms resting on the wall beside her head, caging her. He was so close to her. Too close. His lips almost touched hers. A smell mixed of rain and pine forests invaded her nose, making her dizzy. Her wolf perked up. Aurora quickly cleared her senses. “I’m nobody’s woman,” she declared, locking eyes with him. But she quickly regretted it because who wouldn’t lose herself in a pair of deep blue ocean-like eyes on a face carved out by the Moon Goddess herself? “Want a bet?” he smirked, “One day you will be mine.” The audacity of him!

Dark Mafia Scene “Who laid a hand on you? Dallion's voice was low, cold, and dangerous. His dark gaze bore into her, daring her to stay silent. When she didn’t respond, the tension snapped like a whip, his voice booming through the room, “Who?” The butler, standing rigid against the wall, swallowed hard before stammering out the words, “It... it was Mr. Rivers, sir.” The atmosphere turned deadly as Dallion's jaw clenched, fury igniting in his eyes. “Bring him to me.” The butler’s eyes widened in fear. “N-now, sir? It’s... it’s late.” Dallion's hand, once braced against the wall near her head, slowly curled into a fist. His eyes never left her face, his possessiveness was palpable. Without looking at the butler, his voice dropped to a lethal calm, “Do you need a better time? Or shall I break your legs to teach you urgency?” The butler didn’t need any more encouragement. He fled the room, returning twenty minutes later with a trembling Mr. Rivers. “Dallion, my friend, what’s all this about?” Rivers began, his voice casual as if nothing was amiss. But Dallion wasn't’t here for pleasantries. His eyes slid to the knife stabbed into the apple on the table, and in one fluid motion, he yanked it free, the blade glinting in the dim light. Without a word, Dallion grabbed Rivers outstretched hand, slamming it onto the table. The sharp scream that followed echoed in the room as Dallion, with one swift movement, sliced through the man’s fingers. Blood splattered across the polished wood as Rivers screamed in agony, clutching his mutilated hand. “No one touches what belongs to me,” Dallion's voice was eerily calm, his expression devoid of any sympathy.

Atenea, a young woman of captivating beauty, displays an innocent face that could easily be mistaken for that of an angel; however, don’t be deceived, for behind that appearance hides the very devil in a small body. She accepts Valentino Rizzo’s marriage proposal—an ice-hearted businessman—bound by the obligation to save her father’s nearly bankrupt factory. When the young Russian sets foot on Italian soil, she comes face to face with her future husband’s mistress. One might think that the fragile girl would cry over a future with a fiancé who has another woman, but… —“You’re my fiancé’s woman, you say?” —she removes her sunglasses, a gentle smile curving her lips—. “Nice to meet you, I’m Atenea Volkova, the future wife of your man. Sorry… our man.” In contrast, a husband with a cold and unyielding heart, who constantly shows her his disdain and openly professes his love for his mistress, becomes astonished when he discovers a small detail that binds him to his tiny wife. Love arises, grows, multiplies, but at some point, it must perish, for Atenea Volkova is not willing to give her heart to any man. It was a promise made on her knees before a grave, where her fragile heart was buried for life. Can true love bloom between a heart of ice and another cracked and closed to the feelings of love?

I receive a message one day. "Your condoms have been delivered. Total to be paid: XX dollars." I distinctly remember that I've never made such an order, but the address and phone number are mine. I call my husband, but he only says differently, "My godsister ordered them. She's too shy to use her details, so she used yours. It's not like it'll affect you." I nod silently. She might as well not have them if she can't afford to pay for them.

They've called me a lot of things; Desperate, reckless and stupid. My name is Arthur Rowen, and three months ago, my world ended. My father was murdered—skull branded on his forehead like a sick calling card, Lionel family signature marking him as a traitor. My twin brother Asher vanished the same night without a trace, like he never existed. The police won't help because Lionel's own them. So I did what any desperate, reckless, stupid person would do: I got myself hired at The Pit of Lust, the Lionel family's underground sex club. The plan was simple: infiltrate, investigate, find Asher, get out. Then Andreas Lionel noticed me. Seven years older, dangerously beautiful, rumored to have appetites that would make a devil blush. The man who might have signed my father's death warrant. He wants me in his private suite, in his bed and under his control. Maybe I should run and while I'm at it, I should remember why I'm here but Andreas touches me like I'm something precious, not another pretty body in his collection. Fucks me like he's trying to ruin me for anyone else, while somehow making me feel whole for the first time in my life. The worst part? It's working and my legs are spreading with each passing night shamelessly. I'm falling for the man who destroyed my family. My brother is still missing and my father is still dead. And I'm still lying to the one person who's made me feel alive. They say revenge is a dish best served cold. No one warned me it would taste like whiskey and sin on Andreas Lionel's tongue Or that I'd crave the flavor like an additive.

He’s my sister’s fiancé. Completely off-limits. But He’s also the man I can’t stop craving. For months, I buried my obsession with Ethan Hunter. The cold, commanding CEO of Hunter Corp. A man whose voice alone makes my pulse stutter… and whose ring belongs on my sister’s finger. So why can’t I forget that night? The way his hands tangled in my hair. The way he looked at me like I was a mistake he wanted to make twice. The way I gave in… knowing I never should. And I’m supposed to stand there and watch him become hers? I can't let that wedding happen. I can't allow him slip away, no matter how wrong it is. Ethan Hunter is mine! **A steamy, slow-burn MM taboo romance full of dominance, guilt, and nights that should never have happened.*

Detective Casie Blackwood thought she'd left her supernatural past behind when she joined the police force ten years ago, fleeing the shame of public mate rejection and family abandonment. Now, ritualistic murders are forcing her back into a world she desperately wanted to forget. Three human victims have been discovered with surgical precision wounds and ancient symbols carved into their palms—markings that point to forbidden blood magic from before the supernatural communities established peaceful coexistence. When Casie finds a note written in the old pack language reading "The Hunt Begins," she realizes someone is deliberately targeting humans to harvest their primal fear, threatening to expose the entire supernatural world. Partnered with Detective Rick O'Connor, who remains unaware of her true nature, Casie must navigate the investigation while concealing her enhanced senses and knowledge of the supernatural. The wounds aren't from blades—they're fang marks. The positioning isn't random—it's ritualistic. And the killer's scent carries a terror that suggests they're being hunted by something even more dangerous. Forced to break ten years of silence, Casie contacts her estranged brother Elias, learning the symbols are ancient binding marks used to channel supernatural energy across factional boundaries. The killer needs seven sacrifices total to complete a ritual that will shatter the barriers between the human and supernatural worlds. With three victims already claimed and only four days until the next lunar cycle, time is running out. As federal agents circle and media attention intensifies, Casie must choose between maintaining her carefully constructed human life and embracing the supernatural heritage she rejected. The investigation isn't just about stopping a killer—it's about preventing an all-out war that could destroy both worlds she's sworn to protect.

Caroline James, an eighteen-year-old liberal-minded she-wolf, is devastated when her alpha boyfriend, Noah Frost, leaves her for his destined mate. Determined to protect herself from more heartache, Carrie vowed never to love again and unexpectedly meets Jesse Morris, her fated mate, on the same night. Fueled by her pain, she devises a plan to use Jesse to make Noah jealous and win him back. But as Carrie spends time with the kind and much older Jesse, her resolve starts to waver. Jesse's unwavering love and loyalty break through her defenses, making her question her decision. Torn between her original intentions and her growing feelings for Jesse, Carrie faces a difficult choice. Will she hold onto her past or embrace a new chance at love?

I thought Christmas had already broken me. Betrayal, loss, and a miscarriage that shattered everything I’d built. So I did the only reckless thing a heart in ruins could do: closed my eyes, jabbed a finger at a map, and bought a ticket to wherever it landed. No plan. No hope. Just a wounded heart running from the wreckage. I wanted quiet. Snow. A place to breathe and heal. I found him instead. A man who feels too wild for this world, all heat and muscle and dark, hungry eyes. He kisses like he’s claiming something. Touches like he’s learning every secret my body holds. His strength borders on impossible. His presence, addictive. He calls me his naughty little Christmas gift. And every time he drags his mouth down my throat, I forget every reason I had to stay guarded. But the deeper I fall, the stranger things become. The room around him feels alive. The night listens when he speaks. His eyes flash with an animal glow that shouldn’t exist, and the sound he makes when he’s holding back, low, guttural, trembling the air between us doesn’t belong to any man. I should run. Ask questions. Save myself. But I’m far too gone. Even willing to be ruined by whatever he is. So I ignore the question whether I’m losing my mind, or whether the fear curling beneath the heat is real. And let him keep unwrapping me like the gift he thinks I am. Because whatever lives inside him…it’s the first thing that’s made me feel alive again.