Donna Rice Nude Novels & Stories

My dad never got over his first love, so he traded me for her daughter, Irene. I spent twenty years like that before they finally took me back and named me the real heiress. So when it was time to pick a husband, I didn't care about anything else. I just wanted someone with a clean past. Like Shane Terrell. Detective captain. Cold, intimidating, and known for ignoring women—yet when he confessed, his ears went red. "Lana Laurent, you're my first. You have to take responsibility for me." I believed him. Thought I'd found the one. Then Irene came back. I stood in our house and watched Shane hold her, crying. "Why'd you make me lie to her? Why'd you make me marry her? You're the one I loved first!"

Nine years ago, Charlotte Green willingly bound herself to a companionship system to save her sister. The system guided her to the side of Eric Lorvis, a man adored by fate and envied by the world. Her role, as dictated, was to pursue him under the guise of being mute. Before long, everyone in their social circle knew of the mute woman who loved Eric with a fervor bordering on madness. At a gathering one evening, he finally relented. "If you make yourself look like Emily, I'll allow you to stay by my side." Without hesitation, Charlotte borrowed money to undergo plastic surgery. She reshaped herself to resemble Emily Spencer—Eric's first love. With painstaking precision, she molded her preferences to match his, learned to cook his favorite dishes, and catered to his every need. Yet to him, she was no more than a housekeeper. He neither hid his disdain nor spared her his indifference. His insults, his cold stares—she bore them all in silence. She didn't care. As long as she fulfilled her task, the day would come when she could finally leave this world behind. However, when Charlotte truly died, the cold and aloof Eric, who had always appeared so composed in front of others, lost his mind...

To Willa Fowler, I'm not her husband, but rather, a non-performing asset that awaits her handling. When I fall sick and ask her for help, she grows impatient with me. "This is a low-tier problem that you should be dealing with on your own. There's no need to report to me about it." When I burst into tears from an emotional breakdown, she berates me, "If you lose control of your emotions, you'll just show everyone else the vulnerability in our alliance. Next time, I'll have the PR team teach you how to manage your emotions." Even when I call her for help after getting into a car crash, she doesn't hesitate to hang up on me. "Everything concerning you isn't important enough for me to suspend the hundred-billion-dollar transaction I'm performing right now." I spend seven days in the ICU getting my life saved afterward. On the first day of getting home, I witness Willa bending down to gently coax another young man into taking his medication. She opens her mouth in an attempt to explain the situation to me. But I just chuckle bitterly before handing over the paperwork I've already prepared in advance to her. This time, I sound exactly like her. "Ms. Fowler, regarding our marriage project, after a comprehension evaluation, the return on the investment is deemed too low. Therefore, I'd like to officially propose a termination on this project. "This is the divorce agreement. Please leave your signature here."

I always had a unique kind of mind-reading ability—I could hear the thoughts of people who didn't truly love me. On the night before my wedding, I suddenly heard my fiance's thoughts. 'If she shows up unexpectedly to disrupt the wedding tomorrow, will wearing leather shoes make it harder to escape?' I didn't say a word. The next day, without a second thought, I boarded a plane and left Chilia. In the end, that wedding, regarding a runaway bride and groom who never showed up, became the city's most infamous joke.

On my wedding day, my groom's sister, Nadia Lawson, wears an elaborate ball gown and comes on stage to snatch the emcee's microphone. Before all the guests, she arrogantly says to me, "Can't you see the princess is here? Why didn't you curtsy and greet me? You deserve to be punished! Get on your knees and prostrate yourself before me as an apology!" My expression sours at her insolence. I turn around only to see the indulgent expressions on her parents' faces. The groom, Bowen Lawson, says dotingly, "We spoiled Nad silly since she was a child. You are her sister-in-law now. Don't make things hard for her." I am so mad that I can't help but laugh at the absurdity of it all. The clown thinks she's a princess, asking me to kneel before her? Ridiculous.

On Benedict Bradford’s birthday, he posted a link on social media with a taunting offer: [$1.99 buys you a prank—target: Sansa Stormcloud.] So when I arrived at his party, the guests drenched me in water, hurled glasses, smashed cake in my face, and shoved me down the stairs. Benedict sneered as he stood over me, arm slung around Lina Kipling. “You think you’re fit to marry into the Bradfords? Pathetic. “You’re not even in Lina’s league. You’re worth nothing more than a couple of dollars!” I picked myself up, dusted off my dress, and handed him an invitation. “You know, Benedict, the Bradfords have another heir. “And shortly afterwards, you’ll address me respectfully as your sister-in-law.”

In Kieran Chase's eyes, I was not his wife. I was a non-performing asset waiting to be liquidated. When I got sick and asked for help, he became impatient. He said, "This is a minor problem. You can handle it on your own. No need to tell anyone." When I broke down in tears, he reprimanded me. "Losing emotional control shows weakness. It exposes the fragility of our alliance. I'll have the PR team teach you emotional management." Even when I called for help after a car accident, he hung up. "Nothing about you is important enough to interrupt a transaction worth hundreds of millions." I spent seven days in the ICU fighting for my life. On my first day home, I found Kieran leaning over another woman, his voice suddenly soft and coaxing as he convinced her to take her medicine. He opened his mouth to explain. I smiled bitterly and handed him the papers I'd prepared long ago. My tone mirrored his perfectly. "Mr. Chase, regarding our marriage project, the return on investment is unacceptably low after comprehensive evaluation. I'm formally proposing we terminate our cooperation. "Here's the divorce agreement. Sign it."

Everyone in the city knows that Michael Shaw despises me to my core. He even takes pleasure in humiliating me in public at banquets. He sneers, "My family made its fortune through gambling. Nancy Jackson is just a pretty face who can't even recognize all the suits in a deck of cards. Marrying her would be worse than marrying an inflatable doll that at least reacts!" Still, the marriage agreement between our families comes first. On top of that, the fake heiress, who is his true love, can't have children. So, he forces me to gamble with him. "If you lose, I want your womb to bear me a child. You have to get a C-section without anesthesia," he demands cruelly. I've long had enough of him always giving me a hard time. A soft laugh escapes my lips, and I reply, "Fine. If I win, then I want your manhood, Michael." The crowd bursts into laughter. Everyone says that I'm overestimating myself. Everyone knows Michael is the best gambler in the city. I lower my eyes and say nothing. Indeed, he is one of the best. After all, five years ago on a stormy night, I was the one who held those hands and taught him how to cheat for the first time to stay alive.

My mom couldn't forget about her first love at all, so she switched me with her first love's son when we were born. Thanks to her, I was forced to suffer during the first 20 years of my life before I finally got to reunite with my actual family and become a rich scion. When it's time for me to choose a wife, my top priority is to find myself a woman with a romantic history as clean as a sheet. Leah Hudson is that very woman. She's a police captain who's fearsome, intimidating, and isn't interested in men at all. But when I confess my feelings to her, she goes bright red in embarrassment. "Melvin, you're the first man I've gotten with, so you must take responsibility for me till the very end." I lap Leah's words up, thinking that I've finally met my true love. That is, until Dexter Caldwell, the fake scion, returns to the country. As I stand outside my new marital home, I witness Leah embracing Dexter while wailing. "Why did you tell me to lie to him? Why did you ask me to marry him? The thing is, Dexter, you're my first love!"

The day Bryson—the Harding heir—chose Talia Connell, the Connells' real daughter, I found out I was pregnant. For seven months, he went all out planning her dream wedding. Meanwhile, I fought through a brutal delivery and almost bled out bringing Kyle into the world. Then a breaking alert hit— [Harding Heir in Late-Night Street Racing Crash: Wife Critically Injured, Bryson Harding Permanently Loses Fertility] Scared he'd take Kyle from me, I stayed hidden for five years. Then came Bryson's mom's birthday banquet. I got pulled in as a server. Kyle was waiting in the lounge—until he bolted out and slammed straight into her. The whole room went dead quiet. Kyle looked just like Bryson as a kid. No question. Bryson shoved through the crowd, voice rough. "Kid... who are your parents?" Kyle froze, then broke down. "Mommy... I can't find Mommy. Her name is Joanna."