Fling Novels & Stories

"I'm sorry, Harold! I won't come to the bar ever again… Ah, you can't touch me there…" A drunk, beautiful woman clad in a pair of black stockings can be seen at the entrance of a bar at midnight. Since she's lying on the sidewalk, her white panties are all exposed. Elated, I stick my hand beneath her skirt. Little do I know that the woman, Crystal Conley, has mistaken me for her sugar daddy, Harold Townsend, and thinks that I'm here to teach her a lesson. She's so petrified that she dares not move a muscle. I use the opportunity to part her legs and pin her down hungrily. Poor Crystal shrieks in fright, "How could you punish me like this, Harold?"

My husband, the Don, never acknowledged me as anything more than his political bride. From the day we married, I knew there was someone else in his heart, a woman from the slums named Elena. But for the sake of my family's honor, and for that small, pathetic scrap of love I still held onto, I endured everything in silence. Until two months ago. He came home drunk and reckless and lost all control. He kicked open my bedroom door and took me like a man possessed, and the whole time, the name he breathed into my ear wasn't mine. It was hers. But that night left something behind. I was pregnant. I thought maybe this child could be the thing that finally turned us around. So I walked to his study door, pregnancy report in hand, heart full of something dangerously close to hope. That's when I heard his voice through the door, soft and tender, speaking in a tone I had never once heard him use with me. "Don't worry, Elena. Once you have the baby, I'll bring him into the family personally. He'll be the only heir I recognize. As for Jessica..." His voice turned cold and contemptuous. "She'll never have children. For the past seven years, I've had someone slip the highest dose of birth control into the warm milk she drinks every night before bed. She's nothing but a political arrangement. Why would I let her carry my bloodline?" The door opened. He stepped out and saw me standing there, frozen. He assumed I'd do what I always did, scream and cry and demand answers. He had no idea this time was different. This time, I was really leaving.

"Does riding a horse feel good?" The saddle jolted beneath us as the horse trotted along. I steadied myself by holding the slender waist of my friend's alluring wife. Her skirt fluttered constantly in the wind. My friend was in a nearby house, completely absorbed in a card game—while right in front of him, I was out riding a horse with his beautiful, delicate young wife…

I am a succubus, and during my heat cycle, I must have sex with a partner to survive. I unexpectedly saved a serpentfolk man, a species renowned in the beast-kin world for possessing the most potent sexual prowess of all. I leveraged the favor to make him help me through my heat as an incubus. But just as I was clinging to him again, scrolling comments appeared before my eyes — and I discovered I was the villainess in a novel. The male lead secretly despised me. The real heroine was about to appear. And once he recovered his memories, I'd be tossed aside. So I decided to divorce him. But my serpent husband didn't seem to agree with that plan.

From the day I married Jason, I knew I was only a stand-in. He was heir to the vampire throne. I was nothing — the most forgettable daughter of a declining human noble family. The only reason he'd ever looked twice at me was this face. A face that happened to mirror Vicky's — his first love, already married to someone else. For three years after the wedding, I copied her carefully. I smiled whenever I saw him. He would touch my cheek, his eyes cold. “Vicky never smiled like that. Not to please someone.” To stay by his side, I got pregnant again and again — and lost each pregnancy, one after another, in the chill of his indifference. Three years of marriage. I had nothing left but scars. And still I would not let go. Until Vicky's divorce brought her back, and she came to the door herself. At a banquet, assassins struck. Jason's first instinct was to drop me and go to her. Nearly dying finally cleared my head. I signed the divorce papers myself and handed them to him. Later, after I finally walked away, Jason came looking for me — again and again. His eyes were blood-red, his voice unsteady. “Elena. I finally know. You're the one I love.” I just looked at him and smiled, calm. “Too late.”

The Moon Goddess offered me her protection. If I died, I'd get one chance to be reborn through the werewolf trials. I was born with "sensory impairment." I wasn't an Omega, but I couldn't shift into a wolf. I couldn't see or sense wolves in their lupine forms or their power. When I appeared alongside ninety-nine other trial candidates in an ancient rainforest shrouded in thick fog and darkness, everyone assumed I wouldn't make it past the first day. But here I was, in the terrifying rainforest nests, treating a ghostly wolf pup, drowned for its unusual coat color, as my own little cub. And, I flirted with a bloodthirsty vampire spirit who took pleasure in killing, treating him like a lover. I even befriended the evil twin Hexenbiest, treating them like sisters. The first time we met, I reached out and ran my hand over the vampire's abs. "Nice body," I commented, "just a bit on the short side." He let out a humorless laugh, reattached the head he'd been holding to his neck, and gripped my chin. "I'm six-foot-five," he said. "Want to take another look?"

No fling! No way! Not now, not ever! Mackenzie Swanson is not having a fling with Wyatt Carlyle! And she has told him so… time and time again. But that's fine with Wyatt. She's not his type anyway. He's a ‘wham-bam-thank-you-ma'am’ kind of guy who believes in true lust, and she's a former virgin who believes in true love. Not a match! Nope! Not suited at all. But after their one seductive night together, Wyatt is strangely hooked. He's prepared to follow this gorgeous virgin anywhere and everywhere. He can't keep his hands off sexy Mackenzie and he can't keep out of her oh-so-tempting bed. So, he's going to prove that what she thinks isn't happening is actually the most passionate fling of his life.

After secretly registering our marriage, my lawyer husband, Benedict White, proposed holding a public wedding ceremony every time he gained favor with his lover, Anna Lester. Over three years, Benedict asked me thirty-three times and broke thirty-three promises. The first time, Anna’s dog died. He said we had to mourn for three months to honor it. I stood in a wedding dress and apologized endlessly to the friends and relatives seated below the stage. The second time, Anna had menstrual pain. He turned around on the way and went to care for her. After that, every ceremony he promised came with a new problem from Anna. I cried. I protested. Yet Benedict always said, “She's just a friend with benefits. You’re my wife. Don’t be so petty about it.” After the thirty-third time, I finally grew tired. I slid a divorce agreement across the table in front of him. “Let’s get this over with.”

Adrian Vance and I had been secretly married for ten years, and I had always been his perfect wife. He was the president of a hospital. But lately he'd fallen in love with playing broke. I asked him to pick up blackberries; he came home with bananas and a sad little story about money. I needed a ride to my own surgery; he drove me there rattling along in a beat-up van, because the van fit the part. And when our daughter was dying and the one person who could save her was him, he looked a stranger in the eye and swore he was nobody, just an assistant, certainly not the hospital's president. That was the moment it finally landed. He hadn't drifted into an affair on a whim. He had chosen, with his whole heart, to walk away from his wife and his child. Fine. I'd take our daughter and clear the way for his great love.

In our tenth year together, the King of the Gods, Aetheon, threw the grandest wedding I had ever seen on the peak of Mount Olympus. And at the ceremony itself, he calmly told me he had cheated on me. "Go on with the rite, or stop it right now. It's your call." He swirled the wine in his cup, bored. He told me that just before the ceremony began, he had sex with a mortal girl. The world went cold around me. I stared up at the king standing high above me. "Do you love her that much?" His brow creased slightly, as if he thought I was making too much of it. "Not really. She's a fragile little mortal, nothing more." "You've just been so proper, so well-behaved these past ten years. Never a flaw I could find. It was interesting, for once, to be adored by someone who didn't know any better." He turned the thunder ring on his finger as if none of it mattered. "Don't worry. If you choose to go through with the ceremony, you'll still be my queen—no question. And if you want to throw a fit about it, fine. Throw your fit. I won't stop you." I stood frozen on the altar platform. I had waited ten years for this day. And now the perfect ceremony in front of me pressed down on my chest until I couldn't breathe.