Authors Barely Disguised Novels & Stories

Anything to keep my mind from spiraling. I swipe through apps, aimlessly scrolling—until I see it. A sharp, invisible blow lands square on my chest, knocking the air from my lungs. It’s a newly published post. Of Arthur. Brianna’s official account. My pulse stutters as I tap on it, my stomach twisting at the sight before me. It’s a picture of him—dressed in the same crisp white shirt he wore when he left. He looks tired but still effortlessly charming, sitting still as if lost in thought.

She gazed down at the stunning white gown that adorned her body, its sleeveless design showcasing her toned arms. The neckline was elegantly crossed, leaving her back bare and vulnerable. The fabric cascaded down to her feet, with a daring slit in the front that barely concealed her thigh. Ava's eyes widened in dismay as she completed her thoughts aloud, "And practically naked." Maeve, sensing her discomfort, flashed a mischievous grin. "Come on, Ava, live a little! You look absolutely ravishing." Ava rolled her eyes, her expression stern. "That's exactly the problem, M. I'm not supposed to look 'ravishing.' I'm an Alpha, and I need to look the part."

Kael let his arms lift, let the folds fall around him, and for a moment the curve of his stomach disappeared into careful lines and seams. Aaron fastened a hidden clasp at Kael’s side, smoothing down the fabric with both hands. “This was tailored to hide the bump,” he said without looking up. “But only just. It’s still you.” “Good,” Kael whispered. “I don’t want to disappear.” Aaron paused, and for a second the room went too quiet.

I moaned, and she smiled nervously. "Really?" she asked. "Really," I said happily. Julie grinned and sat back for a moment. "Inspiration," she said grinning, "you need some inspiration." She stood up quickly and unbuttoned her very businesslike and modest white blouse to reveal a smooth white satin bra trimmed around the edges with a strip of delicate white lace. The bra was substantial to say the least, but it still struggled to hold her tits in place. Needless to say I was suitably impressed. Then Julie unzipped her straight black almost knee length skirt and stepped out of it to reveal matching panties. I don't know if my cock or my heart leapt higher.

"But they haven't even seen the real blow yet. Turn to the final page of the editorial spread, Lydia." Lydia set her glass down on the marble coffee table, her fingers turning the thick, heavy pages of the magazine. She bypassed the detailed analysis of her new family welfare foundation, she bypassed the glowing reviews of her father’s lithium patents, until she reached the absolute end of the multi-page feature. The final page was completely devoid of financial metrics or corporate text. It was a minimalist, matte-black page with a single, centered block of elegant platinum script. Lydia’s breath caught in her throat as her eyes scanned the words.

Sunlight pierced the breakfast nook like accusatory fingers, gilding the oak table where Richard nursed his tea and The Times, spectacles perched on his nose. I'd chosen my weapon carefully: a sundress in butter-yellow cotton, halter neck plunging to show the inner curves of my tits, skirt flaring mid-thigh with every sway. No bra, nipples faint shadows under the thin weave; thong minimal—a whisper of lace that vanished between my lips, already damp from last night's midnight denial. Barefoot, legs shaved silky, I padded in smelling of vanilla body lotion, hair loose and tousled like I'd just been fucked.

Instead, I opened it. The first page was already too much—bare skin, silk ropes, commands written in clean, dangerous fonts. It was like falling down a rabbit hole I wasn’t supposed to touch. I turned to the next page and it was a gorgeous shirtless man in just a boxer brief, his partner was wearing just panties and a bra that barely covered her nipples let alone the flesh of her br**st. Her breast pressed to his chest, one hand held her by the waist while the other squeezed her a*s as they french kissed.

And I peered through the window, which, by luck, had not been blocked by the curtain. Everything in the room was as obvious as an open book, revealing its tales through tangible details that spoke volumes without the need for interpretation. I saw Tyler, whose trousers had already been loosened, and his shirt buttons were entirely undone. Similarly, I saw Avanna, who had been wearing shorts and a crop top, now with her shorts pulled down to her knees, leaving only her bare buttocks. I heard both of them chuckle at this moment, like tipsy lovers about to engage in a passionate encounter. Immediately, I shut my eyes fast, like a fired bullet into the sky.

It wasn’t yellowed with age or made of scratchy, pulpy parchment, but when I tugged it (gently, feeling Davin’s eyes on me all the while) it felt stuck as surely as the rest of them. Even the font and ink were different, scrawled hastily in an untidy hand. Brow furrowed, I held it up to the flickering gas lantern on the wall. “Well, come on, then.” Marla tapped her fingers on the tabletop. “Read out what it says.” I pursed my lips and made a show of clearing my throat noisily, re-adjusting my seat and struggling to hold back my smirk. Davin didn’t even look slightly amused, and the knot in my heart pulled taut.

I flipped through a book I wasn’t really absorbing. His foot brushed mine under the blanket. I didn’t move away. No announcements. No press releases. No grand comeback post. Just this: A quiet afternoon. A familiar touch. Two people who had broken apart and—somehow—found their way back. Let them talk. Let them scroll and guess and speculate. This part? This was ours. Let the world wonder a little longer.