Collected Fictions Novels & Stories

The man was rarely home, leaving his gorgeous wife alone in this big house. The diagnostic finished. Elias clicked through the folders to clear some junk files and free up space. That’s when he saw the folder named “Private – Do Not Open.” His cursor hovered. He knew he shouldn’t. But curiosity won. He double-clicked. Dozens of video files and image folders spilled across the screen. Hentai thumbnails loaded instantly. Busty older women getting absolutely destroyed by younger hotter guys with massive cocks. Breeding captions. “Step-Mom Gets Knocked Up.” Rough throat-fucking. Anal creampies. One paused video showed a woman who looked eerily similar to Rebecca on her knees, face covered in cum

Nobody was allowed inside his room but Zac unintentionally rushed into his room sometimes which my father didn’t mind at all. Caroline got scared and held my father's hand. “Hahaha! Oh, my dear son” My father laughed and slowly pushed Caroline away and picked up Zac. “What are you doing here my little munchkin” “I was playing hide and seek with Anna. I want to hide in your room daddy.” “Let’s hide together” My father exclaimed. They both hid and Anna came inside the room as well. All 3 of them played and giggled while Caroline stood at the corner looking at Zac with extreme hatred. She couldn't bear him anymore and wanted him to out of her life.

The dorm room smelled like instant ramen, vanilla body spray, and the faint metallic tang of nervous sweat. Finals week had turned the entire floor into a pressure cooker, but room 412 was quieter than most. Lights off except for the two desk lamps and the blue glow from Lena’s laptop screen. Textbooks and highlighters littered the floor like casualties.

1. (JENNY'S POV) My fingers hovered over the keyboard of the laptop screen the only light in my quiet apartment. I have been the Rossi family’s forensic accountant for eight months. Not by choice at first, but the money was too good to refuse when they approached me through a shell company. Clean up the books, make the numbers dance, hide the trails. I told myself it was just numbers. Just a job. Until tonight. I had dug too deep.

The flash was a bright, shocking light in the dim room. “What are you doing?” I asked, my voice a hoarse whisper. “Documenting my masterpiece,” he said, a cool, detached look in his eyes. “Art is meant to be seen, Elara. And I have a very specific, very private collector who is interested in my work.” My heart leaped into my throat. A collector? He was going to show these pictures to someone else? The thought was terrifying, and humiliating, and incredibly, undeniably exciting.

Well, I can't fuck myself, someone has to do the fucking" I replied. He chuckled. I returned to his cock, sucking like a slut in heat. I made sexual sounds to excite him; years of watching p**n and reading erotic stories had taught me that men love hearing erotic moans from women, even if they are just for effect, not because my pussy is actually getting stimulated. The New York best selling romantic novels were my best companions during my college days.

“I’ve been reading your notes. The way you wrote about those women. There was envy in it, wasn’t there? All that research... you wanted to know what it felt like to be taken. To stop pretending.” Sofia’s mouth went dry. He was right. Part of her had been chasing the story because their disappearances felt like freedom she’d never had the guts to grab. Lucian climbed onto the bed, straddling her hips, his weight pinning her down. “Tell me to stop and I’ll drive you back myself. Right now.” She stared up at him, chest heaving. The words stuck in her throat.

But no one knows about the other side of me. At night, when the house is quiet, I hide under my covers with my phone and read the kind of stories that would make my mother faint. Dark. Filthy. Full of dominant men who take what they want. Girls who beg for it. Degradation that makes my thighs press together and my heart race. I touch myself to those stories, whispering things I would never say out loud, and then feel crushing guilt the next morning. I’m supposed to be pure. Innocent. The perfect daughter.

My dearest Elena, If you’re reading this, I’ve left this world with unfinished business burning in my veins. The house and everything in it belong to you now. But the real legacy is in the cabinet. Use the key taped under the center drawer. Read the journals—especially the last three years. They are my confession, my obsession, my truth. When you finish, you’ll understand why I could never let you go. Yours in sin and longing, Victor Elena’s breath hitched. She found the key, its metal cool and heavy.

She may be able to feel other people’s emotions, but she will also be able to project her emotions to them. “Hi Mom,” Ora says as she sits next to me. Mom, she called me mom. I can’t wait to tell Edgar. “Ah, Ora. I have something for you.” Frederick reached into his pocket. “It was one of the first visions I ever had. I didn’t know who it was for, just that it was important to someone. I saw a picture in your Aunt Jo’s room and knew it was for you.” He reached out with his fist clenched. Ora reached out and Frederick dropped something into her hand. “I have kept this safe for over forty years.”