Emma Stone The Fappening Mga Nobela at Kwento

Dalia’s POV. “Are you okay?” The makeup artist asked after putting something heavy on my eyelids. I blinked hard to test it. “It’s kind of heavy. Remove it..” She immediately complied. The phone beside me beeped and vibrated. “Can you give me that?” I asked the woman and she handed the phone to me. I scrolled down my notification message. It was something from I*******m. Emily has managed to d******d this crazy app on my phone even when I told her not to. I clicked on the swirling pink app. Out of curiosity, I clicked to watch reels. Every video was from that night.

Frat mattress,* she snorted, looking at a female naked and riding a male in the shallow water. I snickered, I loved it when Fanny used my lingo. *Yeah that’s Stacey Williamson. I don’t know her personally but she’s got a rep. Not in a good way, and judging by how she’s trying to buck that bull in eight seconds she’s clearly well practiced. For all my faults I never fucked in public like this for an audience, it’s just tacky,* I said, annoyed.

It was only then that Myka felt relieved and leaned against Aster at ease. At the sight of the scattered s*x toys on the floor, Aster immediately figured out what Estelle wanted to do, and he started seething with anger. “Since you love filming videos so much, why don’t you be the protagonist for once?” Aster pointed the gun at Estelle and barked, “Do you want your men to do it for you?” With trembling fingers, Estelle picked up the items on the floor and put them in before she set them on max. In the beginning, she screamed in pain, but once she got used to them, she started letting out embarrassing moans.

Kal asked. And it wasn’t just Kal who noticed a familiarity in the room. Jag felt dread stirring in the back of his mind, its icy fingers curling around his heard and slowly squeezing. They didn’t have to wait long to find out. The camera moved as if someone was walking before the camera faced a mirror. Only it wasn’t a camera that stared back. It was Emma’s reflection in the mirror. She was stood in just a pair of black panties exposing her golden flesh to all those who could see it. There were scars and freckles on her body but she seemed uninterested in them as she combed her hair and wiped her face with cotton wool pad. She seemed happy and oblivious to the fact that people could see wha

Amy was fast asleep on the couch, her tiny body curled up under a soft blanket after lunch. Emma burst into the office, her face pale. “Ma’am Serena,” she gasped, holding her phone tightly. “You need to see this.” Serena frowned, standing up. “What is it?” Emma handed her the phone, her hands trembling slightly. Serena watched the video. Her humiliation, her anger, her shame—broadcasted for the world to see. The hateful comments flashed like poison. Her hands clenched into fists. She didn’t need a psychic to tell her what happened.

Not enough for room service and too impatient to be my mother. I cracked it open to see Dante Moreau. Black shirt, pressed slacks, perfectly combed devilry. He had a cup of coffee in one hand. “You look like you survived a very chic apocalypse,” he said. “Thanks. It’s exactly what I was going for.” I stepped aside. He entered without asking. Rude much? “You’re trending,” he said, tossing a newspaper onto the bed. “Front page. ‘Mystery Moreau Revealed.’ Congratulations, Adelaine. You’ve officially broken the internet.”

Driven by curiosity and an instinctive sense of unease, Emily edged closer to the slightly ajar door, wanting to hear what was going on inside. Her heart pounded, and she held her breath as she peered through the narrow gap. Through the crack in the door, she saw Amber almost clinging to a man. From Emily’s perspective, Amber’s dress appeared disheveled, and they were locked in an intense kiss. The sight hit Emily like a bolt of lightning, leaving her world shattered in an instant. Her heart seemed to stop, and the blood drained from her face. She couldn’t believe what she was seeing. Was this real? Was it Ethan?

Ever. I sat up, hair falling in messy waves around my face, and opened T*****r. And there it was. A shaky, grainy video, filmed in what looked like a disgusting bar bathroom. My fiancé. Dominic fucking Steele. Hands gripping some random slut against the stall wall, thrusting into her like she was the only woman in the universe. I froze. Then heat shot straight through me; anger, disbelief, the ugliest cocktail. My jaw clenched so hard I thought my teeth might crack.

“This is deflection. I motion to suspend Dr. Stone immediately.” The vote was still undecided, with half people for it and half against it. Then the doors burst open. And Elias came in, looking disheveled, with his eyes wide and wild. “Wait!” Every head turned towards him as he walked to the front, with a phone in his hand. “I have proof. About the affair and everything.” Helena’s face paled. “Elias, no…” “Don't” But he didn’t listen. He pressed play. The shower video was played on the screen, with my moans and Alaric's groans.

“The proof about Sarah died with the file. We have to start over.” My phone buzzed then. A message from an unknown number. I opened it with fear. It was Annabelle. She sent a link. The masked party video played when I clicked. My face showed clear in the footage, I danced on Liam’s lap. My dress rode up high. The pleasure on my face looked obvious. The caption said, “Maya Collins, the office whore, caught in public fun. Who else has she pleased for money?” The video spread fast. Notifications flooded my phone. Social media exploded with shares. Comments called me names. Pictures from the café appeared too. Mr. Havisham stood beside me like he owned me.