Free Use Novels & Stories

Billionaire tech tycoon Damian Cross has spent his life building a legacy of cutting-edge autonomous vehicle technology, aiming to revolutionize transportation and safety. But his obsession with control and precision has left him emotionally detached and skeptical of human unpredictability—especially in high-risk activities like racing. On the other hand, Sierra Vale, a fearless street racer with a mysterious past, thrives on chaos and adrenaline. Known as the "Queen of the Circuit," Sierra races not for fame but for her underground mission: using winnings to fund her brother's secretive legal battle against a corrupt corporation linked to Damian's empire.

Children beware, and please give care of things that go bump in the night. It all seems like fun when you provoke mayhem and run through the graveyard to give one a fright. Please heed our warning from dusk until morning giving caution to the naive. Goblins and Ghouls wait on the foolishly brave to pull beyond the hallow grave.

Half a year after our divorce, my ex-husband became a trending topic online. His current wife, who had just given birth, jumped off a building. When she jumped, she was clutching a printed, 98-page copy of the "Cloves Family Code of Conduct." The reason for her suicide? She couldn’t buy discounted groceries online. A reporter came to interview me and asked, "Excuse me, were you also given the same family rules?"

It was my first time going to my boyfriend’s home for the New Year. In the middle of dinner, his childhood friend suddenly slammed her spoon on the table. “Cole, how could you bring a bar girl to our New Year’s Eve dinner?” The room fell silent. Everyone thought she simply had too much to drink. But she spoke with complete confidence. “One of my friends works on the vice squad. He arrested her himself. There’s no way he got the wrong person.” She threw a police penalty notice onto the table. My name was clearly printed on it. I was stunned. Last month, the city’s vice squad had arrested dozens of people. I was the one who approved and signed those cases. I had just taken office as bureau chief.

Every time the housekeeper came to cook, she brought her daughter along. I felt sorry for them — single mother, no support — so I never said a word. Until one afternoon, I pulled out the chair at the head of the table and found a note taped to the back. It read: "Freeloaders aren't allowed to eat here." I tore the note off and turned to the housekeeper. "What is this supposed to mean?" The girl shot me a look of pure contempt and let out a cold laugh. "You're just a maid. You sponge off other people's homes day after day — how are you not ashamed? If you can't afford food, go beg on the street. People like you, mooching off everyone, make me sick." I stared at her, completely thrown. The housekeeper rushed over and lowered her voice. "Ms. Wolfe, my daughter doesn't know I'm the maid here. She saw how hard I work and felt sorry for me — that's why she put up the note." "And she has serious germophobia. She can't stand eating with strangers. Wait outside until she's done eating. Don't come back in." Before I could answer, she shoved me out the front door. The door slammed shut behind me with a final bang. I stood there on the steps and calmly dialed the police. "Hello. There's been a break-in at my home. Someone's locked me out. I need an officer here now."

When my husband and I drop by his childhood home for Christmas dinner, my mother-in-law, Melissa Potter, is the only one busying away in the kitchen. Everyone else is on their phones. I've just taken a seat when Melissa begins to lecture me. "What, are you just going to sit your ass down and wait for food to come? Don't you know when to lend a helping hand? Am I supposed to exhaust myself for your sake?" From time to time, she keeps rattling the pots and pans loudly. "I can't believe those with healthy bodies want a 70-year-old like me to serve them! Does anyone here have any conscience?" Feeling a little uneasy, I gave my husband a tiny nudge. "Why don't you help Mom out?" After Melissa hears my suggestion, she gets even more pissed off. Thinking that this is my first Christmas with my in-laws, I don't really want to cause a scene here, so I get up to my feet and help her out. But the moment I enter the kitchen, Melissa delegates all the tasks to me. I endure my fury as much as I can while finishing the Christmas dinner preparations. When I'm about to head back to the dining table and dig in, Melissa suddenly speaks up. "Hold up. We got scores to settle before dinner."

She had just one job. To fill in her mother’s role at work while her mother's boss, Jordan, searched for a replacement. Filling his head and heart wasn’t part of the bargain.

When divorce and betrayal turn into a real life fairy tale after a chance encounter with a movie star, Pearl’s life becomes a whirlwind when a love triangle she wasn’t prepared for changes everything. Rock stardom, romance and getting a second chance at life and love means everything when you have nothing to lose.

In every shadowed corner of desire, someone is waiting to take what isn't theirs. Loyal girlfriends. Starving wives. Forbidden mentors. Everything that should have remained off-limits. Resistance crumbles into desperate submission. Jealousy fuels every thrust. Predators from every walk of life slip in, seduce, corrupt, and own. This collection is an unrelenting taboo erotica exploring themes of cheating, power play, degradation, forced complicity, age gaps, threesomes, dark possession, and morally corrupt pleasure that pushes every boundary. Warning: Explicit, dark, and unapologetically filthy. Contains intense psychological corruption, taboo relationships, and no redemption. 18+ only. If safe love stories are your comfort zone, look away. If you crave the forbidden... dive in. There's no coming back.

Ernest West left the courtroom with wings on his feet. Leaving Don James was, in Ernest's opinion, the best thing he had ever done for himself. No more tense silences. No more Don's silent, smothering adoration. Ernest had been released. Three years have passed since then. Now, what once was the best choice has turned into a noose around their necks. There is a sinister provision buried within the small print of the divorce papers that Ernest's attorney overlooked; they are obligated to live together and manage the small beach hotel that they used to own as a couple for an entire year. Thus, Ernest finds himself back amid the groaning wooden boards and salty panes of glass within the walls of where their love once withered away. However, Don is no longer the same weak and longing man that Ernest abandoned. He now stands as an intimidating pillar of cold indifference, forged by the stony resolve and lack of concern. Not even a passing glance comes from Don’s green eyes, which regard Ernest with only polite reserve. A year of closeness. A year of unresolved tension. A year of dealing with each and every lie that Ernest tried to bury beneath "irreconcilable differences." In the beginning, the plan is a silent battle—appointments stuck to the fridge, dinners taken in different corners of the house. Yet, there’s something about closeness that reveals the whole truth. Ernest discovers the picture albums that Don never discarded. He listens to telephone conversations in the dead of night that reveal the loneliness he feels himself. And gradually, painfully, he discovers that the greatest error made wasn’t the separation. It was letting Don leave.