Chubby Belly Mga Nobela at Kwento

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.

The woman Lucas Kingston kept by his side was pregnant. When I found out, I was shocked to realize that she was just as far along as I was. In front of me, she gently caressed her rounded belly before settling herself onto Lucas’s lap. "I heard that Miss Carter’s equestrian skills rival those of men. I’m quite curious and would love to see it for myself. Lucas, could you ask her to give us a demonstration? “If she manages to please me…" She leaned in closer to him, her voice seductive. "Tonight, you can have whatever you want." Lucas’s gaze turned icy as it landed on me. Though he said nothing, everyone present understood his intent. My face drained of color as I pleaded desperately, "Lucas, please don’t do this! I’ll lose the baby!" Laughter rippled through the crowd, while Lucas merely looked at me with disdain. "If you lose it, you can always have another. Now get on the horse! If you can’t entertain her properly, don’t even think about leaving this racetrack tonight!" The moment his words left his mouth, several people grabbed me and forced me onto the saddle. The startled horse reared and took off in a frenzy. Every jolt sent unbearable pain through my abdomen. I glanced back. From the viewing platform, the two of them were already locked in a passionate embrace. Clutching the reins with all my strength, I forced a bitter smile. This was the seventh time. And the last. From that moment on, I would never humiliate myself for anyone again.

Ashley was an enthusiastic student for her upcoming bright future, but her dreams were crushed when she found out her beloved younger sister Amelia didn't come home after the party and got kidnapped. Feels responsible for her sister’s kidnapping. She was determined to find her at any cost. Every path she walked got closed for her, leaving nothing in her hand. Devastated and desperate for help, she is lured to unknown purgatory in search of her sister. She Waltzes in the Dane of a lion, leaving her self-respect behind, finding herself to become his maid. Agreed to serve him who was just waiting to devour her, tore her apart, change her up even if she couldn’t recognize herself. She didn't know, she was just an ignorant pawn moved according to the wish of Satan of that purgatory, Adonis Igor. The emerging Mafia lord of North America, who used to swim in the sea of fire. Fate has decided to make him hear the sound of his heart. Which was begging for someone’s care, to let it with the touch of a soft hand. But he had already planned to challenge his destiny to create a deadly weapon from a delicate rose, a way to fulfill his revenge by turning her into an assassin, the medium of his revenge. He is fully prepared to strike, but the secret she was holding in her belly had the power to slice his conception. Teaching his heart to beat again, only for her but giving a chance to the person who had already trodden an innocent soul of her, is not that simple nor easy to accept. Warning it's erotica, read with your consciousness.

I was just about to drink a soup meant to supplement my pregnancy, a frantic voice suddenly called out. "Mommy, don't drink it! It's an abortion drug. Someone's trying to harm you!" Startled, my hand jerked, and I knocked the soup over. My husband's cousin teared up, her voice choking, "B-But I cooked that soup myself as an apology…" I didn't pay her any heed, only checking the contents of the medicinal soup. There was a large amount of poison in it, enough to not just harm the baby, but even make it impossible for me to ever conceive again! "Mommy, it was me! I protected you!" I caressed my pregnant belly, listening as the child inside told me that he was the incarnation of a lucky star, sent to bring me good fortune. Because of this, we even gave him the nickname Lucky. And sure enough, under his guidance, I helped my husband secure numerous contracts. The whole family was overjoyed. I grew to love him even more, consuming precious supplements as if they were free. Within just three months, my family's assets grew tenfold, while I grew thirty pounds. Just as I stuffed the roast pork into my mouth, I heard a weak, faint voice. "Mom, don't listen to him! He was switched into your womb, and he stole my good luck! "If you continue listening to him, he'll be the death of us both after he's born!" Confused, I stopped eating. Who was I to believe, when there were two voices within my womb?

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.

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."

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. 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. Cliffhangers will leave you breathless, close calls, near discoveries, police cases, court rooms. 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.

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?"

The fake heiress, Jean Shore, has left a suicide note prior to taking her own life. In the note, she claims that I'm the one who killed her. In order to make me admit my crime, my parents has sent me to an institution as a human test subject. Every day, I'm forced to endure inhuman torture of all sorts. Needless to say, I'm in so much pain that I choose to secretly take some poison in order to kill myself. But my enraged older brother, Sebastian Shore, saves my life. With bloodshot eyes, he yanks me by the hair while yelling at me. "The pain that you've gone through isn't even a thousandth of the pain Jean had endured! You don't have the right to die!" I can only obey Sebastian numbly. But soon, I get sent to the restricted area. There, my belly swells with life, only for me to lose it some time later. Finally, I've learned my lesson and become docile. No matter what anyone asks me, I keep admitting that I'm a vile woman who has killed Jean. My parents burst into delighted tears. Sebastian can't wait to have me sent to the court, where I will be sentenced for my crime. He tells me, "As long as you admits your crime and go through the punishment, we'll forgive you." I say yes in an obedient manner. I know that my family wants me to be sentenced to death. But what they don't know is that I can't live long enough for the death sentence to be carried out.