Chaunticleer Novels & Stories

Clara Vale lived on the 12th floor of an old, rundown building in downtown São Paulo. At 32, she was the undisputed queen of bestselling erotic romances. Her books sold by the thousands: Fuck Me Until Dawn, where the protagonist was destroyed by a mafioso with a 23-centimeter cock; Fireman’s Dick — the irony of fate hitting hard now — and her most recent one, Emergency Orgasm, which had spent three straight weeks at the top of the charts.

The chandelier hanging in the center of the room looks like an ice sculpture, and the furniture—elegant but not overwhelming—makes me feel like I’m in a dream. Someday, I tell myself, I’ll buy a place like this for Mom and me. “Good morning,” I say, bowing my head respectfully to Beatrice. She doesn’t acknowledge me at first, which makes me second-guess if I did something wrong. Before I can say anything else, a woman in her late twenties enters. She stops in her tracks when she sees me, studying me intensely, eyes widening with surprise. “Is she back?” she asks, turning to James with a confused expression.

"A chaotic, expensive, legally married brand." "I don't want to be a brand." "You don't get to choose anymore." "I absolutely do." "No." She'd pointed at my phone. "The internet has chosen for you." That was the problem. The internet kept choosing things for me. A husband. A reputation. A personality. A motive. Apparently, I had gone from being Grace Ellinton, relatively unknown woman with questionable decision-making skills, to Grace Bramhall, mysterious billionaire wife who may or may not have married Manhattan's richest bachelor as part of an elaborate revenge scheme.

Chapter 3 The kitchen of L'Oro was a cathedral of chrome and white tile, silent save for the rhythmic *thwack-thwack-thwack* of Chloe’s knife. It was four in the afternoon, the dead zone between the lunch rush and the dinner service. She was alone at her station, surrounded by the raw ingredients of the proposed autumn menu: roasted chestnuts, sage, butternut squash, and a bottle of aged balsamic that cost more than her monthly rent.

Everyone knew Cheryl was a hoe, with over forty girls, but it was Katherine who took the cake. "Wait, you fucked Benny from the bowling alley!" Cheryl gasped after Katherine told them who she fucked over the Christmas break. She said she ran into Benny Cruise in the supermarket in town, and they hit it off. She ended up fucking him in the back seat of his old station wagon. “Yes, I did,” Kitty spoke proudly. “Didn't he die on New Year's Eve?” Cassandra questioned.

I’m so awestruck that I don’t even see the figure storming in from my left until I crash backward, landing on my butt. “Get out of the way, fool” I look up at the voice to see a pretty brunette with piercings all over her face glaring down at me. She’s wearing… nothing. Just lingerie on her lower half. Her large breasts are completely uncovered. “Watch where you’re going, child” Madam Cherry offers me a hand and sends the girl a sharp glare. But she’s busy studying me with a frown as if trying to remember something. “So it’s you” the says finally with a smirk. “Don Rafaele’s golden slut.”

"Get your ass down here, bitch!" Dante shouted. "And don't you make wait another minute or you're gonna regret it!" My heart leapt again, and my stomach turned as the hammering on the front door continued. It was Dante, the absolutely repugnant owner and manager of Cherry Sweet's Gentlemen's Club in Dorchester. If there was an Academy Awards for World's Biggest Asshole, he'd win every year. And Dante wasn't going anywhere — not without me.

"You'd be surprised. Fran's the kind of girl who looks sweet and innocent—makes you want to hold her forever. But once you see her body, the only thought that comes to mind is bending her over and breaking all sense of control." Chantelle actually nodded. "I know the type. Angelic face, sinful curves. A lot of the rich kids around Blumedale are addicted to that contrast." Andrew looked at her, smirking. "Ms. Garcia, less talking, more action. Keep going." Chantelle ground her teeth. This bastard really had no patience, did he? He could at least let her stall for a bit and ease the tension she was drowning in. She began unzipping her black trousers.

Chloe Bell, his secretary greeted him, her voice was tinged with desire. Dante waved her off as he walked into his private chambers. It was not a secret that Chloe desired him. At first, it was subtle but recently she had gotten bolder. She dressed seductively, baring her cleavage and walking with a fluid sashay of her hips. He was never going to cross the line of having an affair with an employee. It was an abomination to him; the mighty Moretti fraternizing with a lowly secretary. However, he did appreciate her attempts at trying to woo him and she wasn't bad to look at too.

said Claire and turned around then walked ahead . " Hey , where are you going ? " said Chloe . " Toilet ! A certain strong perfume scent is making me wanna vomit . " said Claire and walked ahead . " That ugly pauper rat ! " said the girl next to Chloe annoyed . " Chloe , could she win ? " asked the other girl next to her a bit hesitantly . " How can she possibly win ? I will make sure she never hits the target . " said Chloe with a vicious smirk .