Authors Barely Disguised Novels & Stories

But the day was only beginning. We rose eventually—reluctantly—his seed still leaking steadily down my legs as I walked. I wore nothing but a sheer violet robe that clung to every curve and left the evidence of our rut blatantly visible. Alexander stayed shirtless, scars glowing with fresh ozone sparks, pants slung low enough to show the thick outline of his cock already half-hard again at the sight of me.

The text blooming on its skin—VOLUME 10, CHAPTER 3: THE FIRST CLASS—was written in the precise, razor-thin font of the High Treasury, a tiny but stubborn piece of corporate graffiti trying to brand the dirt. Xander knelt in the clover, his heavy, calloused hand hovering just above the stem. The amber ember beneath his scars remained dark, but his fingers were steady as he plucked a nearby blade of wild grass and laid it across the violet leaf, shading the tiny text from view.

She unfolded it slowly, and her eyes began scanning the first lines. The handwriting was the same as on the outside, neat, deliberate. Amara, By the time you read this, you’ll already know that there are things about tonight’s celebration that aren’t as they seem. People are smiling, but behind those smiles, hands are moving pieces you can’t yet see. You are one of those pieces. Her pulse quickened. She kept reading, her fingers tightening on the paper.

Lisa gnashed her teeth. "Other women are dying to catch a glimpse of me and here you are the unfortunate one. Tch!". Brad shook his head. " I will rather lay in a gutter than to see your face." Lisa turned her face. "Let's go." A flash of hurt passed through Brad's eyes but he concealed it quickly and untied her hands. "Fucking Bastard!" Lisa murmered and rubbed her wrists to ease the pain. Brad than stepped out of the car with his usual mischievous smile, his messy and unruly hair can make anyone go crazy for him. He was was wearing ruby red suit with black collared shirt and black loafers.

I ran my palms over his abs, feeling them tense under my touch. Arthur’s hands weren’t idle. He found the hidden zipper at the side of my gown and slowly dragged it down. The dress loosened, and with a gentle tug it pooled at my feet in a whisper of silk and lace, leaving me in nothing but white lace lingerie—a sheer bra that barely contained my full D-cup breasts, matching thong panties already damp with arousal, garter belt, and sheer white stockings.

I keep my eyes on the tomatoes I’m slicing, even as I feel him come to stand just to my right — not close enough to touch, but close enough that the air shifts between us. And then, I feel more than see him lean slightly forward. His hand — long fingers, steady and sure — reaches out and brushes lightly over the veggies I’ve already chopped. What the— My brain does a backflip. Because normal people don’t just… feel food like that, right? But again, my survival instincts kick in and slap a sticky note over the thought: Rich people. Eccentric. Don’t question it, Marina. “Your cuts are good,” he says quietly.

​The Great Disclosure ​The cathedral of light didn't collapse—it Inverted. ​Nora felt herself being pulled through the "Upload" stream. She saw the 300,000 words of her life being stripped of their "Genre Gilding." The "Billionaire" descriptors fell away like rusted armor. The "High-Stakes" cliffhangers were flattened into honest, raw prose.

Chapter 67 The article appeared on a Thursday. It was not a major publication. It was one of the kind that sustained itself on the peripheral edges of business and society journalism, the sort of outlet that knew enough about the people it wrote about to be credible and not enough to be responsible. The headline used the word strategic. The subheading used the word arrangement. The piece itself was carefully phrased in the way that left room for the subjects to deny specifics while the overall impression remained exactly what the writer had intended.

Leaving this kernel of information to expose itself at the wrong time. "The other thing, your Highness." Amber whispered from Julian's side, her eyes still planted on her feet. I had an idea about what she wanted him to adress us for. Julian stiffened where he stood. A mask crept over his lovely features, giving him the appearance of a statue.

I looked at my wristwatch to see that he was hell late. Nora yawns as she supports her face with her hand to rest her head. "I told you that is not a nice person, and he makes us wait for so long." Nora kept on complaining. Immediately the bell rang, we turned to see Brizo walking towards our table. He is not handsome, as seen on the internet and in magazines. He was dressed in disguise. Nora and I stand up to greet him. "I only have few minutes," he says as he removes his glasses. "You should start now because I've no extra time to waste with publishers." he spats.