Authors Barely Disguised Novels & Stories

She unconsciously rubbed the back of her neck and held the counter taking deep breaths. Anna sat on the couch crossing her long legs as the leather skirt rode up her thighs. Amara felt immediately intimidated by the way she looked. So perfect and beautiful. Amara then looked down at her own clothes, a dull grey dress, wrinkled and filled with paint. She felt underdressed in her own home. “How are you know? Adrian said you were doing good.” Anna asked looking over her shoulder with a smile. Amara managed another smile with shaking lips. “I. I am doing good. How are you?” She mumbled lowly feeling Adrian and Abigail’s penetrating gazes. Both held two different motives yet the same promise of h

In Colin's puzzled gaze, Audrey slowly lifted her head, her eyes displaying a hint of shyness. "Colin, I know you don't understand romance... But it's okay, I can teach you," she said while reaching for the zipper of her own jacket. Then, with a single motion, she took off her light yellow jacket, revealing her fair skin and slender waist. Under the jacket, she was wearing only a black bra! "Colin... Have you ever seen a woman's body?" Her voice was soft, and her long eyelashes trembled slightly, carrying a hint of teasing in her gaze.

Her brown eyes sparkled in the semi-darkness in an appreciation that made her close her eyes to see even more of Lauren who just turned on the light in her empty closet in the bedroom, and she opened her packed suitcase. “Without agreements that benefit me as well, I don't think I should start. Lauren teased looking over her shoulder as she pulled out some fine fabrics that were in easy reach in her bag. Karila watching the imminence of the act, arched her eyebrow and crossed her hands under her breasts, watching her deeply. The movement made her breasts stand out even more in the open neckline of her abaya, which provoked a brazen move from Lauren to look at her on her bed and pretend to wa

NOTE: KEEP THE SLIDING PAPER ON THE PAGE. Logan’s brows furrowed and he flipped the next page. More entries and detailed experiences coated the paper and more popped up as she had flipped through the pages. Terra scrunched her eyebrows in concentration as she reached the final page. Covering the next page, a pocket slid up and down the design to keep anyone from seeing it all in one glance. Terra was using this pattern to put people in a coma.

Keeping his eyes on Catherine's worried face, Rome lifted his hand and said, “Do you see this cut,” “Yeah,” Catherine softly intoned, focusing solely on the bandage on his palm. Without uttering another word, Rome pulled his shirt off his body, tossed it to the floor, and said, "And this, do you see it?" At first, Catherine felt hesitant as she stared at the bandage on his side, but before she could realize it, the tip of her fingers was gently caressing against his skin, and she whispered, "Yes,"

“Fair enough.” Ambrose was really just trying to change to a cleaner clothes. He pulled out a matching red plaid pajama and a white sleeveless undershirt. He starting slipping on the pajama and by the time he was wearing the undershirt, I was bewitched by his armpits. “Hey,” Ambrose called out for my attention the moment he slipped on everything. “…” I shook my head as I was pulled back towards the realm of reality. “Close your mouth, a fly might swoop in.” He teased and I was quick to look away.

Pierce rolled his eyes and opened the text. “Huh...she looks very different without her braids,” Patrick commented. Pierce stared at the photo and couldn’t wait to tug on one of Arianna’s curls...with permission, of course. Arianna’s hair was in a large curly afro that fit her perfectly. “Well...it doesn’t look like she is being held against her will.”

“Then watch with your hands, not your mouth.” The comment was crude, dismissive—but it filled Rian with cautious pride. He’d seen her. Spoken to her. And still believed she was one of them. The disguise was holding. --- That night, she returned to the inn with a strange hunger—not for food, but for more. She scribbled notes in the back of her old journal: - Don't walk too quickly. - Talk like you don’t care what anyone thinks. - Laugh from the chest, not the throat.

“The board is ready to print. Sign the sheet, or we delete the folder." I looked down at Florence, then at Ethan, whose hand had finally lost its strength and fallen limp against the cold steel floor. I didn't feel the Weaver’s logic anymore. I didn't feel the mogul’s ambition. I felt the raw, terrifying clarity of a woman who had spent her entire life hiding behind pen names, cover designs, and other people's tragedies. I took the manual steel quill Arthur had left between the pages, drove the point directly into the palm of my own left hand until it filled with warm, biological blood, and dragged the wet tip across the blank line at the bottom of the page.

“That your independence will be tested. That you’ll have to choose how visible you want your personal life to be.” Elara leaned back, fingers steepled. “Visibility isn’t the same as exposure.” “No,” Nadia agreed. “But they’ll try to make it that.” The first article appeared that evening. Nothing accusatory. Nothing scandalous. Just a profile. ELARA VALE: LEADERSHIP WITHOUT A SAFETY NET? The piece traced her rise carefully through education, values, and foundation growth. Alessandro’s name appeared only once, near the end, framed as historical context rather than current reality.