Dirty Stories Online Novels & Stories

And despite everything, despite his weakness and his failures, I did not want to completely ruin him. But then I thought about the car crash. About Michelle. About all the people Eleanor had hurt over the years. This was justice. A long overdue justice. "It's starting," Lysander said suddenly. He turned his laptop around so we could see. A gossip website had just posted the story. The headline was in huge, bold letters. "BLACKWOOD SCANDAL: Grandmother and Granddaughter Share Lover!" Below it were screenshots from the videos. It wasn't explicit, but it was enough to make it clear what was happening.

This time, she sat. The leather was expensive. Everything in this room probably costs more than her monthly salary. Adrian took his seat across from her and slid a thick folder across the desk. “What’s that?” she asked. “Your lifeline.” She opened it cautiously. Legal language greeted her. Dense. Precise. Intimidating. “NDA?” she asked. “Yes.” “Plural?” “Yes.” She flipped pages, eyes widening. “Non-disclosure, non-disparagement, media conduct—are you serious?”

Uncontrollable tears streamed down my face as I stared at the numerous photos spread out on Mr Voss's million dollar table at his penthouse. Photos of Daniel fucking a woman in his car—the one I fucking bought for him. Photos of him kissing her. Photos of him taking her in all different positions in the car. Photos of his face scrunched up in pleasure, his mouth open, his skin glistening with sweat and I couldn't help the tears that kept rolling down my cheeks no matter how many times I told them to stop.

"Yeah, baby. He is." Cassie sputtered out her drink and coughed. "Oh my god," she said when she could breathe again. "That must be so embarrassing." Logan raised an eyebrow. "Embarrassing? No, not really. I mean, why would I be embarrassed about being naked?" Cassie shook her head, "I don't know. I'd be embarrassed. I mean. What if the pictures end up on the internet?" Logan laughed and Julian joined in. "You're adorable," Julian said and kissed Cassie's cheek. "Pictures of him being naked are everywhere. He's practically a p**n star."

The photos stopped being cute. The last few: Ethan alone, shirt unbuttoned, eyes heavy-lidded while straight at the camera like he knew someone would see. Like he *wanted* someone to see. Then, a tucked-away folder labeled **Archive 3** It looks vague, and was hidden between “Taxes 2024” and “Contracts Signed.” Probably business. Probably none of my business. Yet, I clicked, and the moment it opened, dozens of thumbnails loaded instantly. Men. Entwined.

Thank god. When I glanced back at the laptop again, I noticed that I could see the edge of a folder window behind the document. Clicking on it, I found myself staring at a large number of files. The folder was called "UNPUBLISHED WORKS". Quietly scrolling through the various files, I decided to pick another document randomly and see what it was like. Sure enough, it was another erotica story. After just a few paragraphs, I deduced that it was a story about a new intern being hired in at a company, and the owner's son entering into a "forbidden" fling with her. Unable to resist, I quickly scrolled through the pages, looking for another sex scene.

“That does not excuse the fact that _” “You and your recent scandals should be the topic of discussion, don’t you think?” I hissed, interrupting Natasha again. “Investors are refusing to do business with us because they do not want to deal with you. First you get married a few days after you divorced your husband, followed by your claim that he is the father of your unborn child, you defame my name all over the internet, then an audio leaks where you confessed to having an affair with your ex-husband’s son who happens to be the father of the child, you went further to confirm that what you said about me were lies and lastly your mother is being charged for murder; for killing the man that on

Something bad. The first text was from Steve, his friend back in South Carolina who ran auto parts shops and usually only texted about sports or beer. "Dude. Check BlastZone. NOW." BlastZone was a gossip blog that lived for corporate scandals and celebrity drama. The kind of site that did not give a shit about facts as long as the story was juicy enough to get clicks and ad revenue. They had been covering the Sinclair-Maddox scandal since day one, posting every humiliating detail they could find.

Enjoy dying alone. It was wild. A pregnant woman, spewing that kind of poison? By then, I'd moved on. The divorce was behind me, and I had no interest in their mess. But if Anita thought she could poke me without consequences, she had another thing coming. If she wanted to start something, I'd make sure I finished it. I didn't hesitate—I exposed the whole sordid story online. Every dirty detail. And for good measure, I sent it straight to Rob's boss too.

I sat at the bar, nursing my third whiskey, the ice clinking every time I swirled the glass. The place was loud but I barely heard it. I raked my fingers through my hair and pulled out my phone again, thumb scrolling through the trending tab even though I knew I shouldn’t. Every headline was about us. “Hazel Montgomery and Alan’s Sex Tape Scandal Rocks Billionaire Family.” “CEO Caught on Camera in Kinky BDSM Room – Company in Chaos.” I leaned forward, elbows on the sticky bar, and kept scrolling.