Dirty Story Novels & Stories

"Damien should be here." That was my first coherent thought. The space beside her - his space - lay undisturbed, the Egyptian cotton pillows still perfectly fluffed from last night's turndown service. I'd gone to bed alone again. This wasn't unusual. But today, the emptiness felt like an omen. my phone screen illuminated with a CNN News Alert. The headline burned itself into her retinas: **BREAKING: Blackstone-Moretti affair Tape Leaks - Billionaire Caught in Dubai Affair**

My body knew it before I did. I sipped lukewarm coffee and sat in the quiet of Damian’s penthouse kitchen. Chris paced a few feet away, phone in hand, barking into it about security leaks and shutting down rumors. We’d been holding our breath since the news broke—since Lawrence’s scorched-earth expose took the internet by storm. Damian’s half-brother hadn’t held back. In a single, brutal interview, he’d set fire to Morgan Blackstone’s carefully manicured empire. I opened my phone and scrolled, almost afraid to look—but curiosity always overpowered caution.

She sighed then her gaze shifted to my arm. "What happened to your arm?" Annah points at my left arm that's wrapped in a casket. "Don't worry about it." She eyes me for a second then lets it go knowing that I'll be fine. "Anyway, back to business." Annah is an arms dealer, her company is one of the best companies out there they call themselves 'The Caters' She does dirty work here and there but she knows how to cover up her tracks

He wasn’t in a hurry to get out of there, in spite of the drudgery. Dink knew he could outprogram, deprogram, and break code better than anybody on the twenty levels above him. But the lowest position was the only position open. Dink was in a hurry to disappear. There were the gambling debts. He wiped that out with a couple of paychecks. He lowered the Playboy magazine he was reading, frustrated that they had never done a spread on Britney. Still, he was comforted by the fact that she had just trashed Justin. He checked Monitor 17.

Did he really push a woman into me just to spill a drink on me? Turning, I walk down the hall and into the room, opening the door I step into the bathroom. The dress is socked, and stained. Lifting it from my body, I use a cloth to try and clean the stain. It's useless, the dress was perfect, and now it's ruined.

Morning broke with the kind of merciless clarity that left no room for denial. Headlines screamed across every platform, every screen, every notification feed like a storm that had finally broken after weeks of building pressure. “Damien Vale’s Private Letters to Martin Ostin Leaked—Years of Longing Exposed” “Coach & Heir: Love Letters Span College to Scandal” “Ostin City in Crisis: Board to Decide Coach’s Fate Today” “Paper Marriage Lie Unravels—Full Text of Vale’s Letters to Ostin Heir Now Public”

She asked with a pissed look "Look, i don't know what the problem might have been back then, what i just want to know is why did you abandon me?" I asked with hurtfulness in my voice, she on the other hand looked extremely shocked, like she saw a ghost or something, same goes with her friend Marie "Maybe you'll think I'm just making things up but some weeks back, I went to Florida and got a whole bunch of information from Dr Jacob Miller, does the name ring a bell?" I asked and took a litte pause

It said that Royal Gold Mine's stock had opened that morning at a slight dip, which it attributed to unconfirmed rumors circulating in business circles about internal leadership questions. It ended with a question: Is the empire as secure as it appears? Three hundred words. A lit match dropped into dry grass. Harry read it on his phone at the kitchen table in the Decatur house. He set the phone down. "Celestine Park," he said. "You know her?" "She broke the story on the Crawford environmental fraud in 2019." He looked at the phone. "She does not publish things she cannot stand behind. The three hundred words are what she can print right now. She is waiting for more."

he says softly, "you’re shaking. Whatever it is, you don’t have to force it. I don’t mind you not telling me." My hands tremble more. His blind trust in me is just too strong. It’s the more reason why I can’t continue to keep I’m in the dark. I take a deep breath, the scent of toasted bread and coffee suddenly making me lightheaded. "I had an affair with him, Elias. Years ago, when I was just a junior assistant at Gray Stone Luxury Real Estate and Hospitality." Elias doesn't blink, he brows just furrows a bit. He just leans in, his focus entirely on me.

My real job didn't start until we hit thirty thousand feet—the altitude where the laws of the ground, and the morals that came with them, tended to evaporate into thin air. I adjusted my skirt, ensuring the slit rode just a fraction higher than the airline’s handbook would normally ever allow. I checked my reflection in the galley mirror: my lips were a deep, bruised plum, and my hair was pinned back in a way that screamed professional but still promised a bit of chaos. Today’s client was the biggest catch of the season. Riot Greene. The name alone was always sitting at the top of every scandalous headline. He was a living legend of the music industry, a man whose beats defined a decade and