Caleb Coffee Nudes Novels & Stories

Late that night, I was scrolling through social media when my finger slipped, and I liked a rant that said, "No women would like to date Aries men." A few minutes later, Rachel Lewis, my ex-boyfriend's current girlfriend, flooded my private messages. [Stop trying to get Marcus's attention with these pathetic little tricks.] [You already broke up.] [A decent ex stays dead.] [You're damaging Marcus's reputation.] [I'll give you one chance to delete it.] [Otherwise, you'll face the consequences.] I laughed. I had broken up with Marcus Gibson, my Aries ex-boyfriend, three years ago. [I dumped that piece of trash out three years ago. I don't care if you picked him up and started treating him like a treasure, but stop acting like someone's trying to steal him from you every day.] That pushed Rachel completely over the edge. She sent me an Excel spreadsheet right away. [Fine. Since you're so over him, pay back every cent Marcus spent on you while you were dating. Otherwise, that proves you still want him.] I looked at the bill. Eighty-seven cups of coffee, eighteen movie tickets, that sad bouquet of roses he bought me for Valentine's Day, and even the chamomile tea he bought me when I was having my period... [The total is 4,300 dollars. If you don't transfer the money within three days, I'll make sure the whole internet knows who you are.] I stared at it, stunned. Then, I ignored the madwoman. The next day, my social media exploded.

Camilla Hart’s life is small but warm, filled with early mornings with her best friend Anya and caring for her sick aunt Roseline. An encounter with an arrogant stranger that she spilled coffee, will change everything. That same stranger, Adrian Harrington, a billionaire CEO, shows up at her big presentation. Impressed, he offers her a job as his personal assistant. Camilla is thrown into a world of glass walls, power games, and sharp eyes that never stop watching. Her desk sits just a glass wall away from Adrian Harrington’s — the arrogant billionaire she can’t escape from him. Everything changed when Adrian puts a contract in front of her: one year as his wife. No intimacy, no questions, no strings. In return, her aunt’s surgery will be paid for, and 20 million dollars . Cornered, Camilla signs. A dinner party with Adrian’s powerful family push her to her limits.Eleanor, Adrian's grandmother looks down on her because of her background, his father shows kindness, and just when she starts finding her place, Adrian’s childhood sweetheart, Celine, comes back to claim him. Jealousy simmers, sparks ignite, and the “rules” of their marriage start to break. Between late-night arguments, almost-kisses, and truths they’re too afraid to say , something real grows. But just as Camilla begins to trust what’s happening between them, her world is rocked: her long-lost father returns, wealthy and powerful, carrying secrets that turn her life upside down. When the contract ends, Camilla walks away, determined to stand on her own. But Adrian won’t let her go. In front of both families, at an engagement party no one saw coming, he makes his choice clear: what started as a deal on paper has become the only promise that matters.

Elias Rourke was more than a billionaire he was a tempest in a custom-fitted suit. As the CEO of Rourke Enterprises a bachelor, he was known for his icy effectiveness, merciless transactions, and total absence of emotion. Everyone referred to him as “Ice King” when he wasn't around. Up until her. Chloe Hart had worked as his secretary for slightly more than two weeks. Timid, kind-hearted, and excessively courteous, she was the type of woman who kept track of birthdays, tended to plants, and uttered "please" to the coffee maker. Elias hardly paid attention to her,until the morning she entered his office unannounced. “I apologize for the interruption,” she said, her voice shaking, “but you haven’t had anything to eat today.” "It's nearly four." He looked at her, irritated. “That’s none of your business.” “I prepared a sandwich for you.” She places it on his desk and walks away before he has a chance to reply to her. Even with how rude he is to her, she brings him homemade meals everyday and lavender tea after tough meetings. He started to notice little details about her, the way she played with her necklace when anxious, she shows no emotions even when he yells at her. One day, he sees himself approaching her desk not to order her around, but to ask her about her well being. When a scandal almost destroys Elias’s empire. She stays by his side, not out of obligation, but because she trusted him. He looked at her and whispered, “You are the gentleness in my whole existence." "I don't know how to show emotions, but I will learn just for you." Chloe smiled, looking at him and said "Steel is capable of melting, Elias." "Even kings can experience love."

My daughter, Elise Dolton, got sick, so I rushed over to take care of her. The moment I stepped inside, a rotten stench hit me right in the face, so I offered to help clean the place up. Her roommates' faces dropped right away. "What smell, Mrs. Dolton? The place is fine." "If you think it's such a dump, then have Elise move out. Don't come in here acting like you're better than all of us. We're not putting up with that!" Even Elise shoved me impatiently. "If you’re here to visit, then just act like it. Stop making a scene and embarrassing me, okay?” They were all college roommates, splitting rent on a run-down unit in an old complex. When I went in, I noticed them gathered around a pot of spicy stew. The room was thick with steam and smoke, but it still couldn't cover that awful stench. Strangely, none of them seemed to notice it. Had something gone wrong with my sense of smell? That night, the smell was so overwhelming that I couldn't fall asleep. In the end, I realized the odor was coming from Elise herself. I hurried her into the bathroom and scrubbed her down over and over, but the smell didn't fade at all. It stayed just as strong. With no other option, I called a cleaner, planning to disinfect the entire place inside and out. But Elise's roommates felt offended and started arguing with me. In the chaos, someone shoved me. My temple slammed into the sharp corner of the coffee table, and I died on the spot. When I opened my eyes again, I was back at the moment I first walked through the door. The stench rushed at me all over again...

"What!" Ethan says in his all too familiar deep rude voice. "You hit me, which caused my coffee to spill all over me," I say, pointing out the obvious. "So, what do you want me to do about it," He speaks like he has done nothing wrong "You are supposed to say sorry," I say in a duh tone "And why should I." "Because that is what people with manners do." "I know that, but you don't deserve sorry from me." "Wow, really, and why is that." "Because black bitches like you don't deserve it." "I have told you times without number to stop calling me that," I say getting angry with his insults "Make me," Ethan says, taking a dangerous step closer to me. I don't say anything, but hiss and walk past him. I don't know why I even expected him to say anything better. It is Ethan, after all. --------------------------------------------------------------------------------- This is a story about two people who knew how to express the word hate more than anything else to one another. Ethan hates Adina more than anything in the world and would give anything to see her perish into thin air. While on the other hand Adina could careless about Ethan other than the fact that she won't let him walk all over her with his arrogant character. What happens when a big incident changes all that. How do these two different people deal with a feeling that is supposed to be forbidden to feel for the each other. Read to find out how the person you hate the most is the one person you can love the most.

Blaire hesitated, unaware of how much to reveal. " For spending time with me that night." Damien's expression shifted. " Are you a sex worker? I mean we only met that night, had sex while drunk and you seem okay with it. Are you here for the money? Well I should have thought about that too. I mean you know I'm Damien Smith." " No, How can you be so mean?" she said, disgusted by his attitude . " I didn't even know who you were until that morning." He nodded, his gaze rather cold. " But you took the money I dropped on the cupboard. For a moment I thought what I felt was real." "Look, whatever we had that night wasn't real, and you forced me into having an affair with you," he said, his voice cold and detached. The story is billionaire romance that revolves around two complex characters from very different worlds. Damien Smith, heir to a vast family fortune, is burdened by expectations and an emotionally unstable relationship with his fiancée, Gina. And Blaire,working a low-paying job at a coffee shop, is used to her difficult life enduring mistreatment and haunted by a troubled childhood. Their lives intertwine unexpectedly as they have a conversation and find solace and understanding in each other, despite the fact they were strangers to each other. They got drunk and ended up in each other's arms. He tries to deny the feelings he has for Blaire, as he ensures himself, she was only a desperate chick, who hovers around men for money. He meets her again at the bar, but this time around he was cold. The once lively emotions Blaire felt turned to agony, as Damien made it clear, it was only a one night stand.

I'm afflicted with a severe phobia related to socializing. Christmas is the one holiday that I fear the most. In order to escape from my relatives' incessant questions, I've spent one year digging up dirty laundry related to every single person in my family. Before going home for the holidays, I've made a secret vow that as long as my relatives don't disturb me, I will definitely keep those skeletons of theirs sealed tightly in their closets. But at the Christmas Eve dinner, these relatives insist on making me their personal doormat. My oldest uncle, Adam Burton, is the first one to start a topic in a passive-aggressive manner. "Hannah, you're not getting any younger, you know. It's one thing to not be able to nail down a job, but what's with your inability to find yourself a boyfriend, hmm? "Look at Quinn. The moment she'd graduated from college, she'd already married a rich scion." I can only smile bashfully before I lower my head and start eating from my plate in an attempt to skip the topic. But my second aunt, Zoe Brown, refuses to let it slide. She begins putting on airs as a senior member of this family while lecturing me. "Stop being so stubborn, Hannah. Adam is doing this for your own good. We're a family at the end of the day; we will never hurt you. You have to listen to our advice. Otherwise, you'll become an old and lonely woman that no one wants as a partner when the time comes." Pfft! "We're a family", she says! I think these relatives of mine just don't want me to live a nice, comfortable life as a single woman! Unable to endure it anymore, I put down my fork and lift my head. Then, I flash everyone an awkward smile. "In that case, Aunt Zoe, why don't you tell me who's more impressive in bed? Was it Uncle Caleb… or Uncle Adam? "Since we're a family, we should be honest with each other, right?"

Elena had once believed that silence could mean safety. That a gentle hand and a warm cup of tea placed quietly on her desk every morning could be a form of love. Lucien was never cruel—not in the obvious ways. He remembered how she liked her eggs, noticed when she swapped her perfume, and sent flowers on days he knew she wouldn’t expect them. He raised her like one would raise a pet—softly, without question. And Elena, foolish in the way only the very lonely can be, mistook his quiet affection for devotion. She told herself he was reserved. Mysterious. That love didn’t always wear its heart on its sleeve. But when the old flame returned—the one who spoke his language without needing to try—Elena saw it. The difference. He looked at her like a man who had found his lost religion. And Elena? She had simply been convenient. No tears, no scene. Just papers on the breakfast table, beside the eggs he cooked perfectly. She didn’t accuse or beg. She only asked for freedom. He didn’t sign. He chuckled. A soft, dismissive sound. “A cat raised indoors doesn’t know how to survive on the street, Elena. You’ll come back." But she didn’t. She disappeared, like smoke—except she didn’t vanish, not really. She lived. She wore colour again. Laughed at bad jokes. Let strange men hand her coffee and ask for her number. Lucien? He watched. He watched her become someone without him. And it drove him mad. The night he cornered her outside the gallery, rain in his hair and desperation in his eyes, he looked like a man undone. "Elena," he breathed, "please. Look at me. Just once." She did. Calm as ever, and her love already gone.

Roan King. The uncrowned king of Barnett University. He's like a freaking celebrity around here. It's totally ridiculous. People, by which I mean grown women, actually stalk him on the internet. And around campus. Apparently he's god's gift to both football and the ladies (I'm using that term loosely). All he has to do is smile and girls just fall right onto their backs before spreading their legs nice and wide. I've heard that he's already plowed his way through half the female population here at Barnett. I'm sure he'll work his way through the second half before he gets drafted to the NFL later this year. Yeah... I don't plan to be one of them. The guy is nothing more than a conceited player. You know the type—a steroid infused meathead jock coasting through college on his football prowess. Ugh. I have three words for you—avoid, avoid, avoid. Need I say more? I don't think so. I've had the sad misfortune of running into him on campus. Literally. As in—I literally slammed into him before spilling my iced coffee drink all over that wide rippling chest of his (did I just say that?). What I learned from the experience is that Roan King is one hell of a cocky son of a— Ok Unfortunately for me, Operation Avoid-Roan-King isn't going so well. Everywhere I go, there he is. If he wasn't so ridiculously hot, he would be a hell of a lot easier to forget. With his dark hair, shocking turquoise colored eyes and (damn him) buff body, he's easily the most gorgeous guy I've ever laid eyes on. Crap... see what I mean? Why do I suddenly have the bad feeling that Roan King is going to lead to my utter ruin and downfall?

Crimson Bloomed: Ascend Post - Apocalyptic Horror | Action | Yuri Harem | Coming - of - Age | Rated R | Mature Content | Slow Burn The city looked like it had been devoured — chewed up by fire, time, and whatever came after — then spit back out in jagged pieces. Dead drones dangled from power lines like rusted ornaments. Neon signs flickered above fractured pavement, their broken scripts glitching into gibberish. Down the block, a half - melted smartcar burned slow, casting warped shadows across the skeletal remains of a coffee bar. Behind a crumpled tram car, someone crouched low, breath tight in her lungs. The shrieking hadn’t stopped. It came again — sharp, bone-deep, the kind of sound that latched onto your spine and refused to let go. She checked the signal jammer at her hip. Still blinking. Still active. Not for long. They were tracking her. She moved fast — boots silent over broken glass, slipping through the breach in an old laundromat’s wall. Her body moved from muscle memory now: slide through, duck left, over the washer, don’t look at the corpse slumped by the dryer. Out the back. Up the fire escape. On the rooftop, she halted. Not alone. Someone was already there — silhouetted against the bleeding sunset. Combat jacket. Short - cropped hair. Pulse rifle slung casually over one shoulder like it weighed nothing. Like this was just another rooftop, just another war. “Don’t move,” the voice snapped. She lifted her hands slowly. “I’m clean.” “Everyone says that.” “Scan me.” beat. Then the girl stepped forward, rifle still raised but gaze locked in. Dark eyes, sharp, searching — not just for weapons, but tells. Fear. Lies. She lowered the rifle half an inch. “You’re lucky you’re cute.” That wasn’t the line she expected.