Dirty Bucket List Novels & Stories

Anything could fall from my lips while intoxicated. Or was it Crystal? As I stared down at the paper and sighed as I placed the cap back on the pen. I had a total of twenty-nine items on my bucket list. All the things I wanted to do. I’d been living in limbo since Crystal’s accident, and it continued on after the funeral. Maybe losing my bakery was a sign. I wasn’t sure what that sign meant yet, and there was still time to figure it out.

I know. I grab the remote of the medium-sized TV hanging on the wall, switching it on. Perhaps a little distraction will help, but my jaw drops at the first image on display. The video coverage of my wedding is on display with the huge caption: BUSINESS TYCOON PATRICK BAXTER'S DAUGHTER DITCHED AT THE ALTAR. No... no, this isn't right.

As they exit the dressing room, Kat is waiting for her. “You rock girl,” Kat says. Kat hugs her. “Anytime you have an issue, you call me. I will come down here and kick some ass,” Reese says. We can eat at a restaurant or the Dungeon?” Luca asks Reese. “I have always wanted to see the Dungeon,” Reese replies. “The Dungeon it is,” Luca answers. The two arrive at the Dungeon. The Dungeon is well known for its erotic secrets. The Dungeon is a bar and restaurant, but what it is known for, is what goes on downstairs. The Dungeon is a place you can pay to have your fantasies come to life. No sex only play.

Richard dipped his gaze as the large moths dipped, following their silhouettes as they plumed out and then upward, up, and into the snowy night sky. Black water. Nothing could survive it. All that suffocating dirt and chunks of rubble. Crashing down like that. Nothing. The silt would get into their clothing, Richard knew, weigh them down, drag them under to where black rushing torrents would sweep them downriver, possibly for miles. No one could survive. Not in this cold, in these rapid-moving waters. “Glee . . . shit.”

The trap was set, and the bait was too juicy for a greedy bitch to ignore. Emma dialed that private line, keeping her voice pitched down, sounding like some high-rolling assistant out of Miami looking to move a heavy brick of snow. Bella swallowed the hook whole, hook, line, and sinker. She didn’t even question it. She gave us a location—an abandoned, rusted-out shipping yard down by the docks, where the city lights don’t shine and the only sound is the water slapping against the concrete.

He looked somewhat curious for a second. The spark of anger in my chest grew into a tiny flame, causing me to rebel. I yanked my chin out of his grip and muttered, “Nothing.” Darius whistled at my response. I saw how Dimitri lowered himself and crouched in front of me. His bright magenta eyes fixated on me. He scanned my face and settled his intense gaze back on me. “I didn’t expect there would be a spitfire hidden behind that innocent façade of yours, pet. Did cleaning for the rich, lazy ladies cause some hidden rage?”

The crowd of people close by start to whisper at the scene am making. “Let me tell you something. Lenkov is responsible for trashing my apartment, breaking every thing I owned including my laptop and tv, which by the way, I can not afford to replace, he also kidnapped my cat, which I got from my mom. That cat means the world to me and he has her.” With my eyes filled with tears and shivering lips, I look at the man behind the desk. ”Please, I need to talk to him, he has Honey and I just want her back.” I begged in a trembling voice.

"You were gone for almost a month, Jordan. I was beginning to think you were dead." "Well, I— I…" "You what?" Blake urged. "I even went to the police to report a missing person, but your database couldn't be found. Who are you, Jordan?" I was offended. "What do you mean who am I? I'm Jordan. Your friend." "Then why doesn't any record of you exist?" I blinked in surprise. Why wouldn't a record of me exist? Except… Alessandro! He had some nerve. He knew the police would've come searching for me so he cleared every trace of me from the system. What the fuck was wrong with him? Didn't he know that it could affect my future?

She stuttered in a mild tone. "That's quite absurd, you still have bucket lists" I uttered knowing that it's been years I wrote a bucket list. A bucket list is like a number of wild things you love to do in a day, a week, a month or sometimes even a year. "For each month, it's an efficient piece of paper, it keeps track record of things you did and wild things you intend to do" She explained as she opened the door. "Who is this?"

The bed creaked softly with every deep thrust. “You’re still our dirty little secret,” Julian whispered as he filled me. Oliver took over right after, flipping me onto all fours and fucking me from behind while I sucked Julian back to hardness. We kept going for over an hour — switching, touching, whispering filthy things. The risk of Mom waking up made every moan, every creak of the bedframe, every wet sound ten times hotter. By Saturday morning, Mom was glowing again. Julian had planned a surprise picnic for just the two of them at the beach. He packed everything — wine, cheese, her favorite blanket. As they left, Mom kissed him deeply at the door.