Belly Button Bugs Novels & Stories

I've been married to the prince of the underworld for ten years and have endured countless life-or-death situations by his side. My hands, once trained to play the piano, are covered in calluses from holding guns and stained with blood. But at 28, my husband ends up falling for a young woman from the slums. She's as delicate and pure as a chamomile. She's his well-kept little secret—until I run into them at the woman's prenatal appointment one day. I storm up to him, demanding an explanation, only for him to nonchalantly hand me divorce papers. "Sonia is a devout follower of the church and can't have a child before marriage. I must make an honest woman out of her. Sign these, and you'll get 40% of the company's shares." I refuse to do as told, so he corners me. In the end, he has my crippled younger brother tied up and forced under a hydraulic compression machine. "Sign the papers, Maeve, or watch your brother become a human mince pie. The choice is yours." I fall on my knees and beg him to stop. As the machine turns on, my hands fly to my aching lower belly, and I scream as I lose consciousness. When I wake up again, I'm back in the hospital, in the same spot where I ran into my husband and his mistress at her prenatal appointment. This time, I don't confront him. Overnight, I make arrangements with a sanatorium abroad, get divorced, and run away from home. Yet the moment I truly disappear, my husband loses his mind.

My husband, Aston Powell, is late to show up at the sixth birthday celebration of our daughter, Hailey Powell. When he arrives, he clasps a necklace with a red emerald pendant hanging from it around her neck. "Wow, Aston! Isn't that from the pair of red emerald pendants you bought at City Auction today? They're worth seven figures, aren't they?" Aston's friends all laugh and tease him. Hailey holds up the pendant with a bright smile on her face. "Thanks, Daddy!" "Where's the other one? Are you planning to give it to Belinda?" his friend asks teasingly. As the others start cheering him on, he takes out a diamond necklace instead. Aston says, "Dear, I've got to be fair. Tamara is pregnant with my child. I promised I'd give the child she's carrying in her belly the other pendant." Tamara Davies is his widowed sister-in-law. My whole body jolts involuntarily, and I subconsciously grip that necklace tightly. "Honey, please don't joke about this." Aston smiles and speaks in an unexpectedly calm voice. "Don't worry, Belinda. My heart belongs to you and only you. You have to be sensible. My brother passed away so young. Tamara begged me to give her a child with our surname. I couldn't reject her." He puts the necklace around my neck and lightly clasps it, placing a soft kiss on my neck while he is at it. "Be good, okay? That was just an accident. Once the child is born, we'll have her sent back to Powell Manor," Aston says.

On the eve of my engagement banquet, news broke that my fiancé had fathered a child with his mistress, and it spread like wildfire. Before I could confront him, Jayden Ford brushed it off casually. "It was just an accident. Focus on organizing the engagement banquet first. Besides, your dad’s in the late stages of stomach cancer. Calling off the engagement now won’t do either family any good." That night, he skipped the banquet but posted a photo of a swaddled newborn on social media. When I video-called him, he was bottle-feeding the baby. "I’ve been busy taking care of the kid. You know how it is. Our family lineage has always been sparse and dwindling, and the child takes priority." He wiped milk from the baby’s mouth. "But don’t worry. Once he’s a month old, I’ll send him to the overseas. Just show up on holidays and pretend to be his mom. The title of Mrs. Ford will always be yours." I stared at the matching diamond ring on his finger and couldn’t help but laugh. "Jayden, this engagement is off." He scoffed, "You're really throwing a tantrum over something like this? Don’t be so childish." I hung up on him and called his father—Charles Ford—directly. "I heard you’re looking for a new wife? Why not consider me?" I ran a hand over my belly and smiled. "After all, I’ve got a naturally fertile body. I can give you as many sons as you want." So much for being the sole heir. I’ll make sure he has plenty of brothers to keep him company.

I was carrying the heir to the Gerald bloodline when my husband threw me out into the freezing rain for his 'true mate.' I thought my life was over—until the ultrasound revealed not one, but two heartbeats... and I woke up in the bed of his deadliest rival." For three years, I played the silent, obedient wife to Alpha Elec, only to be discarded the moment he secured his empire. He told me I was nothing but a replica for the woman he actually wanted—the one whos now returning to claim his side. Left to die in the streets with his secret twins growing inside me, I was rescued by the last man I ever expected to see. Alpha Pedro of the Nightfall Pack. He is ruthless, heavily tattooed, and Elecs absolute worst enemy. He should have destroyed me. Instead, the moment his skin brushed mine, a fated bond snapped into place so violently it brought the heartless Alpha to his knees. Now, I am trapped and caught in a terrifying web of primal obsession and pack politics. Pedro demands I submit to the bond, his protective jealousy igniting every time the dangerously charming Alpha Valerius visits, offering me a peaceful life in the shadows. Two powerful, lethal Alphas are ready to burn the continent to the ground just to claim my attention. But the past refuses to stay buried. When rumors of my survival—and my glowing, pregnant belly—reach the Gerald Pack, Elec's perfect new marriage crumbles. Consumed by a maddening, obsessive regret, my ex-husband is now tearing the world apart to hunt me down. He is desperate to reclaim the "barren"wife he threw away and the twin heirs he never knew existed.

His hands covered her boobs and she began to tremble. “You are so beautiful." Knox said with his eyes on her just studying her body. "Knox...I think we...shouldn't...” Eretia paused. "Do you want me to stop?" Knox asked. Eretia stared at him. Her nipples going hard and her belly quivering. "Why do...you want...to do this?" “I want you to have a desire to comeback here when you return to your world." Knox answered with sincerity in his tone. “But—“ He brushed his mouth against hers cutting off her intended words. His hands gently cupping her breasts. “This is your first right? Or am I wrong?" He asked amidst kisses. “No...no...I haven't...done it with anyone.” Eretia stuttered. “Same here." Knox coaxed. Meet Knox Martins, a billionaire and who also happens to be a big time celebrity. You see, Knox Martins is stone-headed and cold-hearted. He hates to hear the word “love.” He despises his mother for just one reason - he believes that she killed his father even though he had crashed in a plane that had killed a thousand of people. Eretia, a mermaid, a lady of the ocean who has special singing powers that is enough to hear the words of the sea. She washes up to the shore of a sea, injured and alone - far away from home. She is found by a young surgeon who is kind enough to bring her into his home. And soon enough, Knox Martins meets Eretia who happens to be a hired maid by his mom after she makes a deal to reconcile both mother and son. Will the relationship between the earth and the sea ever get the chance to bloom? Or will it whither away when they are apart in their separate worlds.

When Jeremy Sterling is framed by his rival, he immediately urges me to run for my life. "Save yourself! Pretend you never met me!" Despite being eight months pregnant, I leap from the moving car. I kneel in the snow for two days straight. Finally, I manage to secure a witness for his trial. The ordeal costs me our baby and leaves me with lasting health issues. The radiant principal dancer I once was becomes a frail shadow, gasping at the slightest breeze and surviving on pills. Later, Jeremy claws his way back to the top. He cradles the belly I fought through 18 rounds of IVF to have and makes a solemn vow. "When the baby's born, we'll name him Ryan Sterling. I'll never forget that you saved me." Tears of joy stream down my face. But shortly after I give birth, I overhear someone questioning him. "Mr. Sterling, this is Regina Gomez's flesh and blood. Is it appropriate to register Ms. Jenson as the baby's legal mother?" Jeremy gazes fondly at Carolina Jenson, who is holding our son, and scoffs. "When I was framed, she didn't even care about her own life. Do you really think she'd care about this baby? Besides, she already lost one baby back then. What's one more?" He shrugs. "At worst, I'll just break up with her. We never got the marriage license anyway." Outside the door, I clutch my aching stomach and turn away. Since we're not bound by a marriage license, this is where it ends for us.

I've been pregnant for six months, but my Alpha mate, William, has delayed our mating ceremony 29 times. He's waiting for his adopted sister, Rita, to find a mate so they can have a "two-couple mating ceremony." The 30th time I altered the waist of my beloved mating ceremony dress, the bridal shop assistant looked embarrassed, "Miss, this dress really can't be widened anymore. How about you choose another one?" Disappointment rose in my throat like bile. I called William, asking when the ceremony would finally happen. But William said: "I will give you an unforgettable mating ceremony, but Rita's mate hasn't been matched yet. Darling, can you wait a little longer? We shouldn't ruin her whole life over such a small thing, right? I know you'll understand. You're always so kind." My heart clenched suddenly. So, my dream mating ceremony is just a small thing. Rita's sweet, high-pitched voice chimed in: "Brother, my mating ceremony dress matches yours so perfectly!" That was the moment I realized I was never the one being chosen. I looked down at my round pregnant belly, tears slipping quietly from the corners of my eyes. Then, with a trembling hand, I dialed the number that had always been waiting for me. "I'm ready to leave." After the call ended, the clerk cautiously asked: "Would you like to choose another one?" "No. Just cancel it, please." I took one last glance at the dress that would never belong to me. If this ceremony was never for me, then I won't stay for it.

In the underground casino, my ex-fiancé Don Dante Castellano threw the card in my face. His arm was around Sabrina—his first love—and his eyes were ice as they shoved me toward the table. "Your father owed mine a life. The thing in your belly isn't mine." He pressed the card flat against my cheek. "The daughter pays the father's debt. Tonight you're the living chip on that table." The paternity test was fake. The child was his. I knew. He didn't believe me. That night, with a gun pointed at my head, I took off all my clothes in front of everyone. Two years passed. Two years later, in Vegas, he saw me again. I was in a red silk dress with a gold chain around my neck, the other end of the chain held by a yellow-toothed gambler. "This bitch is cheap. Bark for me, and all these chips are yours." I picked up the chips, practiced. "Woof. Woof." Sabrina pressed her face into his chest, covering her nose. "Dante. This is disgusting. Let's go." He didn't go. The veins rose along his temple. He was staring at the bruises on my knees. Then he kicked the gambler across the room. He bent down and took hold of my chin. Hard. "Sienna. Money, and you'll do anything at all?" He was close enough that I could smell him. Soap. Two years, and still the same soap. I closed my eyes, opened them, pulled my mouth into a smile for him. "That's right, boss. Pay up and I'll cooperate with whatever position you want. Care to buy a round?"

Warning: This book is extremely explicit. Expect raw, high-heat romance scenes packed with sweat, domination, and intense pleasure. Marcus doesn’t hold back because of my weight, rough pounding from behind while I’m bent over the workout bench, passionate mirror body claiming, shower scenes, risky quickies, and long, filthy sessions filled with dirty talk, spanking, hair-pulling, choking, and multiple explosive orgasms. He worships my thick thighs, soft belly, and heavy chest in ways my husband never did. I’m Bella, a plus-size fashion influencer who smiles for the camera and tells thousands of followers to love their curves. But behind closed doors? My husband Ryan tears me down every single day. He calls me fat, disgusting, and refuses to touch me. I felt worthless… until I hired Marcus, my personal trainer. In my own words, it started as innocent home workouts. Then the tension snapped. One sweaty squat session turned into the hottest kiss of my life, and suddenly I was moaning Marcus’s name while my husband was at work. Every session gets riskier and hotter. I feel truly desired for the first time in years, but the guilt and danger keep growing. My followers notice my glowing confidence. Ryan starts paying attention again. And Marcus’s wife is getting suspicious. Cliffhangers will leave you breathless, close calls, near discoveries, If you love forbidden cheating stories, dominant men, plus-size heroines finally claimed, and addictive erotic drama, then dive in. My story is messy, sweaty, and completely addictive.

Hi lovely Readers, here's the author. Thank you for reading to the end of this book, and a new book is about to start. Enough spoilers, read on to know what happens. Don't forget to leave your comments. XoXo. "I need to come," I tell her. "Please... yes..." "Come with me..." I drop her to her back and lower myself back in position. My belly presses to hers, and her pretty little nipples feel so sweet against my chest. "I can't..." she whispers. "I'm so... fluttery..." "You can," I tell her. "I promise you, you can." I pause. "And you will. Again, Ashley. Come for me again." I rub, back and forth, my dick pinned between my stomach and her pussy, grinding hard, taking so much fucking care not to spear that tight little cunt and fill her up with my cum. "I'm gonna come all over your sweet little pussy, Ashley." "Yes..." she whispers. "Oh God, please... please, Mr. Mancini..." "Don't call me that," I growl, and I'm on the edge, right on the fucking edge. "What shall I call you?" she asks, and I hear it in her voice, I hear she's thinking it, too. It's in the little tremor, the sweet little hint of lust. My breath is erratic, my cock pulsing as my balls tighten, ready to fucking blow. And I say it. I just fucking say it. "Call me Daddy," I growl. "You can call me Daddy."