Cherry Ink Novels & Stories

Just one phone call. One phone call was all it took for Navaeh's Last year in High School to take a drastic change. Who was on the other end of the phone? What are we talking about? The one thing everyone in Silva High doesn't know about Navaeh, their popular, straight A's student is revealed to one person through the phone call. The cherry on top was the fact that it wasn't Navaeh's friend but an old acquaintance was the one that found out. Meet Quinnel Ashford, the Basketball team Captain and Navaeh's infamous old Acquaintance, the person on the other end of the phone. Navaeh didn't see any reason as to why the whole school had to know her own personal issues and so she kept it away from them for the past three years but now Quinnel Ashford knows. The popular bastard. They were friends when they were young, best friends if you may, but all it takes was deceit and... anger for them to break apart. What exactly happened 13 years ago that made Navaeh decide that she wasn't ever going to talk to Quinnel ever again? Now the question was, why did Quinnel Ashford call Navaeh Thatcher that day when they weren't on speaking terms and will he keep her secret from the whole school and let her graduate with no drama or reveal it? But then... The secret is out. Everyone in the school knows. Uh-oh. Who revealed her secret? The one person apart from her two twin younger sisters that knew about it was Quinnel. Will Navaeh find the truth or just blatantly refuse to see anything and turn her back on her new best friend and crush, Quinnel like he had done 13 years ago? Did Quinnel keep her secret till the end?

The night Enzo was made boss of the Moretti family, I gave him my virginity. He was the heir I'd been promised to since before I could speak. We kissed against the floor-to-ceiling windows, tangled in the humid, twilight heat... His rough, urgent hands hurt me, but I didn't pull away. Even the pain felt sacred, a sacrifice I was willing to make for love. Lost in the heat of the moment, he promised me a pair of the most beautiful crystal shoes, so I could dance the opening waltz with him at his coronation ceremony the next day. The first dance is always reserved for the new boss and his future bride. I cried with joy, believing my years of secret pining and patient waiting would finally culminate in a fairytale ending. But I was wrong. So terribly wrong. The next morning, I dragged my aching body out to get his favorite espresso, only to overhear the guys joking as I returned: "So you finally popped the family cherry, huh? How was Vivian on your first night as boss?" Enzo's voice was lazy, mocking. "Face of an angel, body of a devil. She's a hot little viper in bed." The room erupted in sleazy whistles. "So, you really gonna marry her, young boss?" "Are you kidding me?" Enzo scoffed. "Vivian's just a warm-up. Once I get some practice in, I'll go tame the Falcone ice princess. When I get bored, I can always circle back and put a ring on her." I stood frozen in the doorway, my vision blurring, the coffee cup trembling in my hand. Before the world faded to black, I sent a coded message to the Don: "Uncle Romano, for the promotion in three days, get me a transfer. As far away from Enzo as possible."

One night of moon-fueled liquid courage was all it took for Mars Reed to ruin his life. Mistakenly messaging his cold, predatory Alpha CEO instead of his best friend was strike one. Waking up in the elite VTN ROOM entangled in the powerful limbs of Grant Walker was strike two. But fleeing the scene and leaving behind the pack’s most sensitive legal contracts? That was the death blow to his career. Mars is a low-level analyst with a dying mother and a mountain of debt. He can’t afford to be the object of an Alpha’s curiosity, especially not one as ruthless as Grant—the man rumored to have a heart made of mountain ice and a secret soul-bond etched in ink on his skin. But when Mars creeps into the Walker Ridge Estate to beg for his documents back, he doesn’t get a pink slip. He gets a command. "I need a consort. You need a savior. We sign the blood-bond at dawn." Grant Walker doesn't do accidents. He doesn't do mercy. And he certainly doesn't do romance. He needs a husband to solidify his claim over Westline Holdings, and Mars is the perfect, disposable piece for his board. Locked into a high-stakes marriage of convenience, Mars must navigate the lethal politics of Havencrest while resisting the heat of a man who treats him like a subordinate by day and a treasure by night. But as the shadows of the Walker Ridge close in, Mars begins to realize that the "mistake" in the hotel room might not have been a mistake at all—and that Grant’s guarded heart might be the most dangerous trap of all. He walked into a contract he thought belonged to another man. Now, he belongs to the Alpha.

For three years, I slept with my father’s head of security behind everyone’s back. Last night, with one hand at my throat and the other under my dress, he finally asked for a name, a future, something real. “After graduation,” I whispered against his mouth. “Let me finish my defense first. Then we’ll tell them.” “No.” By then I was shaking beneath him on the leather seat. “Then sooner. On my birthday next Friday. I’ll stop hiding then... Cassian, please—gentler...” That seemed to satisfy him. His mouth softened against my skin, and his voice dropped low against my ear. “Good girl. I just want you too much.” The next afternoon, I met my best friend for tea. The moment she opened the passenger door, she spotted the torn foil packet caught beside the seat and lifted a brow. “Bourbon cherry?” she said, already grinning. “That’s our company’s unreleased line. So this is what you’ve been hiding.” I snatched it up and shoved it into my bag. “It’s not public yet.” She frowned. “That’s the strange part. We only sent those samples to a handful of VIP clients.” Then she pulled out her phone. “I did a product follow-up with one of them yesterday, and his private account was basically a shrine to his girlfriend.” She turned the screen toward me. I only looked once, and my whole body went cold. The man in the photo had a line of Latin script inked low across his abdomen. I knew that tattoo. I had kissed it the night before. My fingers started shaking as I opened the private account Cassian had never shown me. April 4. The conservatory. Me and him. April 7. The upstairs studio. Me and him again. April 11—last night. A six-second clip in the back of the car.

“I need this job, Ralph, and I’m willing to do anything to get the job, I mean anything you want.” I told him, walking over to his side and sitting on his table, spreading my legs to give him a good view of my thong. “What makes you think I would fall for this cheap act of yours, what makes you even think I’m interested in your body?” he asks me, his eyes fixed on my cleavage. “I know you like me, Ralph, you can’t take your eyes off my body, I see you drooling when I walk by and I know you want more of me. Besides, how can you not want more when you’ve had a taste of me already. You popped my cherry, remember?” I asked him, putting my legs on his armchair, fixing my eyes on his. “Fine, you win, you got the job, goddamit! Just get out of my office before I do something stupid.” He yelled at me, pulling his hand through his hair in frustration. I smiled excitedly as I jumped down from the table, heading for the exit. “And Victoria, ”he called out to me as I opened his office door. I turned with a raised brow praying in my heart that he doesn’t change his mind. “Be very careful around me, I can be very dangerous when provoked. This emotional blackmail won’t work on me all the time. The next time you try to seduce me again, I won’t hold back, I would screw you right here on the bare table,” he warned me sternly. I know that was meant to sound like a threat, yet I moaned at the thought of him bending me over on his table and screwing my brains out.

"Help me tighten this?" Her voice trembles as she turns her bare back to the doorway. Calloused fingers brush her spine – but it’s not her stepmother. It’s Asher Voss, SU’s star quarterback and her new stepbrother, smirking in the mirror， "Next time you mistake me for Mom..." His breath scorches her ear. "...I’ll leave a real mark." To survive the sweltering New York summer before college, Wendy Wu makes a deal with Asher: Act like strangers once school starts. He’ll remain the untouchable quarterback; she’ll be just another exchange student. No eye contact. No acknowledgement. Ever. But when her father’s long hauls and her stepmother’s busy schedule force Asher into babysitting duty, the lines blur: In the kitchen, he catches her weeping over a shelter documentary and lifts her against his sweat-drenched chest. Garage doors rattle open – his grip tightens: "Hold on. Unless you want them to see you like this." At a party, her friend spots a cherry hair tie on his wrist before he drags her into a dark hallway: "You didn’t want to see me?" His whiskey-laced kiss brands her lips. "Yet your eyes undressed me all night." In a restaurant, a rival girl glares through the window. He traps Wendy’s thigh under the table， "Call me ‘brother’ and I’ll save you."  Their secret collapses. Wendy ends it, and he freezes her out in public， "Do I know you?" Until a rain-lashed night when Ahser, drenched and desperate, pins her to the wall， "Don’t tell me you do not regret the breakup" His teeth find her collarbone. "I have to admit it-- I miss you." Can a love forged in stolen touches survive the spotlight? Or will their step-sibling bond shatter them both?

Lena Marchetti, twenty-eight, operates on fumes. Her father Marco's cancer treatments have swallowed her savings and the final credits of her degree. She interns at Croft Industries, a glass tower engineered to diminish. She is invisible, sweat gluing her blouse to her spine, until she drops Julian Croft's Montblanc pen. The crack on marble halts breath. She scrabbles on cold stone. When she lifts her chin, Julian crouches beside her. He doesn't retrieve the pen. He waits. His gray eyes hold hers, and heat floods her neck, damp and unwelcome. "You break it, you buy it," he says. "And you can't afford it." He leaves her kneeling. At 3:17 AM, her phone blares: Croft. Office. One hour. She goes. His office smells of leather and ozone. He slides a contract across the desk. Six months. Exclusivity. Her compliance. In exchange, her father's debt dissolves. Her signature slants, barely legible. After her best friend Dani labels Julian a sociopath, Lena sobs in the service elevator. He finds her. "Come with me." He escorts her to a 24-hour diner. He orders cherry pie, slides it across formica. She is wrecked—blotched skin, swollen lids. He studies her as if memorizing the topography of her distress. He teaches her to fence. She lunges, jabs his ribs. He laughs in that rusted, startled way that travels up her calves. She registers: I manufactured that sound. Elara Vance, Julian's former mentor who sold his first deal for a board seat, resurfaces. She invites Lena to lunch, offers employment. "He'll never perceive you as an equal. Work for me. Become a threat." The words burrow. Lena's palms dampen at his touch. While Julian travels, she picks the lock of a hidden room. A library.

**Warning: This book contains mature sex scenes, "I hate you," she whispered — breathless, furious, aching. "I hate you more," he growled back. And then he made her forget every man who came before him. Rhaena thought she knew what was missing from her life — until her boyfriend called her boring in bed. Two years together. Not a single orgasm. Done with shame, done with faking, she makes a decision that will unravel everything: one night, one stranger, an elite escort and a dark sex club where no one knows her name. The masked man who finds her there doesn't just give her pleasure. He ruins her — for every other man, for every careful, curated version of herself she's ever performed. But when she leaves, a message arrives: a refund. A record that says she was never there. And before she can make sense of it, her mother drops another bomb — she's engaged. There's a dinner. A mansion. A future stepbrother named Alessio, who looks at Rhaena like she's a problem he wants to destroy. Cold. Hostile. Magnetic in a way that makes her teeth ache. When she overhears him cutting her apart with words, she doesn't run. She fights back. And something ignites between them — sharp as a blade, hot as a wound — something neither of them is willing to name. Because the line between hatred and desire isn't just thin. It's already been crossed. What happens when Rhaena realizes the masked man who woke her body, who owned her in the dark — is her future stepbrother? What happens when Alessio discovers that the woman he can't stand is Cherry — the one he can't stop thinking about? Some secrets don't stay buried. And some hatreds are just love that hasn't lost control.

“The monster you’re talking about,” I muttered, my heart pounding furiously against my chest. “Let it out. I want to feel it,” He smirked, the type that sent shivers down your spine. The type that warned you ‘never make a deal with the devil’ kind. “Watch your tongue, darling,” His cold deep voice had its way of doing something to my stomach, especially when he laid threats. “I don't fuck like a gentleman. I also don't fuck like a monster,” he strides towards me, pinning his gaze on my body. “I fuck like the devil in your nightmares, and you’ll scream like I am your God.” A contract relationship. Signed by ink in words. It was supposed to be a contract, but it was a trap: “Both parties expressly agree that this arrangement is strictly contractual in nature and devoid of any emotional or romantic involvement. Any demonstration of affection, emotional attachment, or behavior suggestive of romantic intent shall constitute a material breach of contract. Violation of this clause will result in immediate termination of the agreement, and the offending party shall forfeit all benefits, assets, or compensations received under this contract. This clause is non-negotiable and emphasized as a binding condition of the agreement.” However, there was another; “Party A must be in a perfect health condition.” *** Olivia Hayes is terminally ill and suffers from cancer. She has lived all her life prioritizing her mother’s health condition until one sentence shattered her dynamism; “I’m sorry, Miss Hayes. The results confirm it is cancer.” With her mother in a critical condition, she struggles to raise the funds for immediate treatment not until her encounter with Ezekiel Grayson, a cold heartless CEO offering a contract that could directly change her life… and destroy it forever.

His lips brushed my palm and every time his hot breath hit my skin, it set my nerves on fire. “What the—” I whispered, breathless. And then, with deliberate slowness, Sevastian slipped my ring finger into his mouth. My eyes widened in disbelief, my heart hammering against my chest. His teeth scraped my skin before sinking into the flesh, just enough to make me twitch from the sharp pain. I gasped, both from the sting and the bite I got from him. My entire body tensed as he bit down harder, marking me not with ink or metal, but with flesh and teeth. When he finally released my hand, my skin throbbed, the faint mark of his bite was visible against my finger. I cradled my hand, staring in disbelief at the mark he left behind. “This,” Sevastian murmured, his voice low and sharp. “Is my mark and ring.” His tone carried an edge, dangerous yet confident, as if the words were meant to bind me. “The symbol that you are no longer Celestina Valeztina-Savelli.” His lips ghosted over my skin, and my chest tightened as he whispered the next words. “...but Celestina Valeztina-Ortega.” His next words were a soft snarl, dripping with ruthless certainty. “My property, my wife.” He added, while locking his gaze on me. There was no hesitation in his eyes, no flicker of remorse, only that same ruthless determination that chilled me to my core. I tried to pull my hand back, but he didn’t let go. "You’re insane," I whispered, my voice barely audible, trembling despite my best efforts not to show it. “Yes, I’m insane,” he replied with a hint of mischief in his voice, “And I can drive you crazy…” He paused, letting the tension hang in the air.