Chaise Lounge Indoor

On the day of my wedding with Hannah Hawkes, her first love, Lucas Tate, sends his critical notice to her. He mentions that he wants to wear a wedding tuxedo one last time at a wedding before his death. In order to fulfill Lucas' wish, Hannah locks me up in a lounge and gets ready to attend the wedding with him. Her impatient voice echoes outside the door. "Why are you so cold-blooded? Lucas is about to die, you know! What's the harm in letting him have his way?" Some time after that, Freya Jensen, the young woman who lives next door, gets up to the rooftop and begs me to marry her. With red-rimmed eyes, Hannah asks pleadingly, "Are you going to give up on our seven-year relationship because of her?" I merely slap her hand away. "Am I supposed to watch Freya die? It's just a marriage registration. Stop being cold-blooded, will you?"

My boyfriend didn’t just cheat. He did it with my twin sister. In my apartment. On our anniversary. And the worst part? They planned it. He dated me to destroy me. She gave him every secret I ever trusted her with. Just because she wants to ruin my future and my career. So I walked into a bar, ready to drink myself unconscious. But no one would serve me. Because of him. The hot, sexy stranger in the VIP lounge with cold eyes, a sharp voice, and a presence that made everyone move back without a word. In my delirious state, I confronted him. He didn’t care. Instead, he said: “If you want to forget everything, I’ll give you something worth remembering.” One night became two. Two became three. When I escaped his bed, I promised myself I would never see him again. But fate has a cruel sense of humor. On Monday, I was reported to the CEO’s office—my ex’s final attempt to destroy my job. I walked in trembling. And there he was.

After my engagement to Simon Page, he secretly planned a trip abroad with Yara Watson, the woman he had loved for years. The day before their departure, he was chatting with his friends and Yara in the lounge of a golf club. "Simon, you just got engaged, and you're already taking Yara on a trip. Aren't you afraid Rosalyn will find out?" Simon scoffed. "I hired a guy to pose as her suitor. He’ll keep her so occupied that she won’t have time to bother me. "If something really happens between them, even better. I can use it as an excuse to officially end the engagement and be with Yara openly." Standing outside the door, I trembled as his words sank in. Tears streamed down my face as I looked at the handsome man behind me, his expression filled with guilt. "Then let’s grant him his wish and get married." But just as I was preparing for the wedding, Simon suddenly knelt before me in agony. "Rosalyn, I was wrong. Please, don’t marry him!"

I had been married for seven years when I invited my widowed stepsister, Mable Stark, to stay with us for a while. I never imagined I'd catch her flirting with my husband, Lester Kaine, on our balcony. Blinded by rage, I chose to end it all for the three of us. But when I open my eyes again, I'm back on Valentine's Day—the day she and I both fall into the water. This time, Lester doesn't hesitate to save Mable. Then, he hires paparazzi to take photos of me in explicit angles just to ruin my reputation. With my name dragged through the mud, my dad cuts all ties with me. Four years later, Lester returns as a world-renowned lawyer with the pregnant Mable. They cling to each other like an enviable, loving couple. When Lester spots me singing in a private lounge, he starts mocking me. "Erica, four years have gone by, and you've ended up singing in bars. "If you'd just admit you were wrong, I might consider helping you find a better job. You shouldn't have to waste away in a place like this."

Elara Voss thought one wild night at a lounge would set her free from her dull new life after her mom married rich Victor Blackwood. She gave her tight virgin body to a hot stranger with gray eyes that promised sin. His thick cock stretched her wet pussy until she begged for more, her first time raw and full of dark need. He left her sore and smiling, whispering they would never meet again. But fate twisted hard when he walked in as her new stepbrother, Damien Blackwood, the young CEO taking over the family firm. Shock hit her like a slap, his touch now forbidden but craved. He cornered her, fingers rubbing her clit while growling claims over her cherry. As lust burned hot, secrets spilled: Damien sought revenge on Victor for old hurts, tied to shady deals and danger. Elara fell deep into his possessive grip, her body dripping for his rough fucks, but betrayal loomed. Syndicate threats closed in, guns and proof that could ruin them all. In this dark romance, Elara must choose between family and the stepbrother who owns her soul and her slick, needy cunt. Will their filthy love survive the storm, or shatter in blood and cum?

It's Kleo's 17th birth and her closest friends have all decided to treat her for the day. While at a lounge, her mom(a nurse) surprises her with a single phone call telling her to come home early which was a shock due to how busy the nurse schedule is but when mother calls you just have to listen. Never been behind the wheel before and getting praised for her driving skills it was unanimously decided as a joke that kleo should drive which as it turns out was a bad idea to begin with. A truck hits her car and puts her into a coma and is rushed to the hospital. On the other hand there's Avan and Avan's mom has cancer. She has a year to live but as fate would have it her room is just right beside Kleo's room. Avan always used to see kleo's room full of visitors but never the girl they were there to see, however, he notices that it's empty today, the day the doctors announce his mother's remaining life span... Dejected, sad and angry he storms out of the room and happens to be around when Kleo's room was left opened, sneaking a peak to notice the beautiful girl that is unconscious.

Kayla Stone has been married for two years, but somehow, she’s still a virgin. Her husband has never touched her. He humiliated her, controlled her, broke her; but just never took her body. So on one reckless night, desperate to feel truly wanted, a drunk Kayla surrenders her innocence to a stranger in a New York lounge. That stranger happens to be Gabriel Pearson. Her husband’s uncle. The same man who wrecked her heart eight years ago and disappeared to Italy. On the night the ruthless kingpin of the Italian mafia world returns to New York, he visits a lounge and runs into none other than his drunk niece in-law. Kayla Stone. The same woman he has deluded himself into thinking he has gotten over for the past eight years. That night, he makes an earth-shattering discovery when pushes inside her and meets the barrier her husband never claimed. His nephew’s wife was untouched, until him. How was that even possible? This night of passion which was supposed to be a mistake, steers something dark and possessive within Gabriel. Kayla wasn’t his to be claimed, but fuck the consequences.

La cinquième année de son mariage avec Philippe, Céline a reçu des messages vocaux provocateurs et des photos intimes envoyés depuis le téléphone de son mari par sa première petite amie. « En six mois depuis mon retour au pays, il m'a suffi d'un petit geste pour qu'il tombe dans mes filets. » « Ce soir, il a préparé des feux d'artifice bleus pour moi. Je n'aime pas le bleu, alors pour éviter le gâchis, je te les offre pour votre anniversaire de mariage. » Un mois plus tard, c'était leur cinquième anniversaire de mariage. Céline regardait les feux d'artifice bleus qui éclataient dehors, puis elle a jeté un coup d'œil à la chaise vide en face d'elle. La première petite amie de Philippe l'a provoquée à nouveau en envoyant une photo d'eux partageant un dîner aux chandelles. Céline n'a pas pleuré ni fait de scène. Elle a silencieusement signé les papiers du divorce, puis a demandé à sa secrétaire de préparer une cérémonie de mariage. « Madame, quels noms dois-je inscrire pour les mariés ? » « Philippe et Marie. » Sept jours plus tard, elle s'est envolée pour la Norvège, sacrifiant son bonheur, pour les unir dans le mariage.

Lorsque je suis allée refaire le certificat de liaison conjugale, l'agent du service administratif m'a annoncé : « Votre ancien certificat de liaison est un faux. Nous n'avons aucune trace de votre enregistrement ici. » Je n'en croyais pas mes oreilles et j'ai insisté : « Sébastien et moi sommes pourtant officiellement liés depuis cinq ans… Comment est-ce possible ? Pouvez-vous vérifier à nouveau, s'il vous plaît ? » Cyrille a compulsé une seconde fois nos dossiers et a conclu : « Les documents de l'Alpha Sébastien sont bien là… Mais selon nos archives, son partenaire officiel n'est pas vous. » Ma voix s'est brisée : « Qui, alors ? » « Lorie. » Sa réponse était nette. À ce nom, j'ai serré le dossier de la chaise jusqu'à blêmir, luttant pour ne pas m'effondrer. Avant que Cyrille ne prononce le nom de Lorie, j'espérais encore une erreur. Mais maintenant, tout prenait un sens terriblement cohérent. Lorie… n'était autre que l'amie d'enfance de Sébastien ! À cet instant, tant de choses trouvaient enfin une explication : ces cinq années passées comme son partenaire, sans qu'il ne me marque jamais. Notre cérémonie de liaison, cinq ans plus tôt, n'avait été qu'une mascarade. J'avais tout abandonné pour lui, croyant à un bonheur possible. Mais ces cinq années de « félicité » n'étaient qu'une illusion, soigneusement fabriquée par lui. Puisque rien de tout cela ne m'appartenait vraiment… il était temps de partir...

“Help me fake my death and arrange a completely new identity.” “Donna,” the man was clearly shocked. “Why? The Don dotes on you. The whole of Sicily knows—” “That’s none of your business,” I interrupted him. “I’m leaving in five days.” Walking out of the black market, the LED screen in the square was still showing footage of my lavish wedding with Don Alexander three years ago, a ceremony that cost over $500 million. Everyone thought Don Alexander loved me deeply, and I thought so too. Until this afternoon, on our third wedding anniversary, I returned to Sicily early, hiding in the lounge of my husband—Don Alexander’s—office, wanting to surprise him. Instead, I saw his secretary hiding under his desk. While the underboss Marco was reporting the losses from the dock smuggling operation, Isabella was kneeling between Alexander’s legs, skillfully unbuttoning his trousers. Her head bobbed up and down. After Marco left, Isabella smiled seductively. “Could your Donna serve you like this during a meeting?” Alexander’s voice was filled with desire. His hands kneaded her breasts. “Sophia is too conventional, too boring. You’re much more exciting in bed, you little slut.” I covered my mouth, completely devastated. But when I actually left, the Don, who had found me boring, was the one who completely broke down.