Good Smutty Authors Novels & Stories

On the company's designated monthly day off, Gigi Lott, Donald Hoover's secretary, posted an Instagram story. The caption read, "So what if you're the boss of me when we're at work during the day? At night, I'm the one on top!" In the photo, she was lying atop a water bed covered in rose petals, and the usually stern Donald was kneeling down to massage her feet for her. From his pocket hung a brand new golden necklace. Just that morning, I bought several gold bars and gave them to Donald while beseeching him to make our relationship public. He happily took the locket from me, but when I tried to take a photo of us with our phone, he smacked my phone out of my hands, smashing it into pieces. With a look of pure derision, he declared, "Why don't you take a good look at yourself in the mirror first? You really are a motherless wretch who wasn't raised right. Look at the lengths you'd go to just to ruin me!" Throughout the last five years, I had meekly gone along with his demand that we keep our relationship a secret, claiming it was because office romances were forbidden. But now, I was abruptly hit with the realization of how laughable it all was. The next day, I sent my father a message. "I admit defeat. I'm willing to come home and inherit the family business."

Lewis Gordon says he likes older women. Seeing that he's young, energetic, and good in bed, I agree to be his girlfriend. But when he runs into me with his friends while I'm dressed in business attire, he is stunned and doesn't know how to react. Then, he quickly introduces me. "She's just a neighbor like an auntie." What? Middle-aged? I immediately break up with him. He sends a clumsy explanation, "When you dress like a middle-aged woman, it's really embarrassing for me." I block him and don't bother replying. Five years later, I bring my son along to celebrate my husband's godfather's birthday. Lewis shows up, holding hands with his girlfriend. When he hears my son call Johann Tucker "Grandpa Johann," he pulls a long face. He blurts, "This is my son, right? He should be calling him great-grandfather." I shoot him a look of pure disgust. "He's not your son." Lewis points at my son's face and sneers, "Look at his eyes and his face. He looks exactly like me. How can you still insist he's not my son?" All I can think of is my extremely jealous husband. If he hears Lewis claiming that he's my son's father, will he go crazy and kill him?

Madison Hodge, my fiancee, thinks that weighing 160 pounds makes me too fat. So, I sign up for a gym membership and work out as much as I can. But the more I exercise, the more weight I put on. Meanwhile, Daniel Webb, a good buddy of mine, livestreams his supper every night. Despite feasting on the most calorie-rich food out there, not only does he not put on any weight, but he even loses ten pounds. As Madison rips into me for not losing any weight, I suddenly find myself able to hear the thoughts of my tabby cat, Furball. His mind goes, "Why are you so silly, Master? Daniel chose you as his target for the Weight Swapping System he has! No matter how many pounds you work off, it's Daniel who loses the weight. He's trying to ruin your life!" Feeling completely stunned, I turn to Daniel, only to see that he's staring at Madison with an affectionate gaze. Once again, I hear more of Furball's thoughts. "Daniel is hopelessly in love with that awful woman. Once he slims down, the two of them will start hooking up. They'll team up to take your life and live off your life insurance payout. They'll even enjoy their intimacy during your funeral!" Now that I know the truth, I simply let out a chuckle. Since this good buddy of mine loves losing weight so much, I'm sure he'll be extremely grateful to me if I make sure he weighs no more than 100 pounds, right?

On the day two couples come to the orphanage to adopt, a row of comments suddenly appears before my eyes. "Hurry, Nancy! Make the first move! The couple who look like bumpkins is just pretending to be poor! The ones dressed nicely are actually poor." "Call them Mom and Dad quickly! Do not let Nadia steal them away!" In the next second, Nancy, who is standing beside me, suddenly rushes toward the country bumpkin couple. Nancy says, "I'll gladly go to the countryside with you. I will leave the rich girl life to my sister." Everyone starts cheering in the comments. "This is great! Nancy, our dear female lead, won't suffer anymore!" "Nadia, the evil villainess, will rot and stink for the rest of her life. Nancy will crush her under her foot. She will never have the chance or the right to meet the male lead!" I am stunned. So Nancy can see the comments too. She is the female lead, while I am the villainess. But what she does not know is that I am reborn. In my previous life, the real wealthy family takes me away. I look at Nancy and smile coldly. "Just wait, dear sister. Your 'good fortune' is yet to come."

I went into labor at the same time as the woman next door. My husband took me to the hospital, but I delivered a stillborn child. Instead of comforting me, he lashed out, "Did you mess around while you were pregnant? Is that why you gave birth to such a monster?" I lost my baby, my name was dragged through the mud, and I was forced to divorce him and leave with nothing. One day, I happened to overhear my husband speaking to the neighbor: "Good thing we swapped your stillborn baby with May's healthy one. If your in‑laws had looked closely, they would have realized the dead baby was actually ours." That was when I finally understood the truth. They had been involved long before. He pushed me on purpose, causing premature labor, just so they could take my healthy baby and give me her dead one. When I confronted them, they held me down in the bathtub and drowned me. Yet when I opened my eyes again, I found myself back on the day I went into early labor. This time, I'll make sure she gives birth to that stillborn child. This time, I will expose them both for their affair and for what they did to me.

Just one week into my new job, I was wrongfully accused of cooking the books, and it cost me five years behind bars. After that, my wife found out she was pregnant. She insisted on having the baby and promised to wait for me to come home. Out of gratitude, I threw myself into work after my release. I did everything I could to give them a good life. It was until one day, I overheard a conversation between my wife and our son. “Mom, don’t let Dad come out with us. It’s embarrassing! Why did you pin Mr. Scott’s crime on him back then?! And now, the girl next door keeps making fun of me, saying my dad’s a criminal!” My wife gently pulled our son close and comforted him, saying, “I promised Mr. Scott I’d help him. Your dad’s so naive. He’ll never find out.” It turned out that my supposed happy life was nothing but lies and betrayal!

I endured hundreds of injections just to give Stanley Brighton a child. He was moved to tears and held me, promising that even if we couldn't have children, he would love only me. I diligently followed the doctor's advice and underwent treatment. The day I confirmed my pregnancy, I was so excited that I wanted to rush home and share the good news with Stanley. But what awaited me was unimaginable. Stanley and the female tenant we shared the apartment with were lying naked together in the bathroom, sharing an intimate bath. He was behind her, holding her close, his lips incessantly biting at her earlobes. "I'll give you as many children as you want! Ten, eight—whatever it takes! Just divorce her!" "Alright, just give me some time. I'll divorce her for sure!" Hearing their whispered entanglement, I turned away, stepping into the rain, determined to leave. I would disappear to a place where Stanley could never find me, not in this lifetime.

The day my mother-in-law discovered she had uterine cancer, she packed up and moved in to our home. “I don’t have much time left. I’m all out of hope!” she choked out. “You’d be cruel to kick me out. Show me some mercy!” I looked at my speechless husband, then at my beloved son I had raised with so much love and care. I asked them, "What do you guys think?" My husband silently made a grim expression and grabbed my arm. “How long are you going to hold on to that little incident that happened after Everett was born? Mom's already so sick." My son echoed his sentiment, “Grandma doesn't have much time left. Of course we have to take good care of her!" I smiled at them and said, “Alright. You guys can take care of her if you love her so much."

"Give me a baby, sweetheart." My husband, Don Nico, whispered, kissing me as he drove deep inside, making us come together. I rested in his arms, feeling his heart hammer against his ribs. He was crazy for me. A month later, on our anniversary, I gave him his wish. A positive pregnancy test. I drove to his private casino, ready to give him the surprise of his life. But I stopped outside the VIP room. The door was cracked open. I heard him bragging to his men. "The wedding's in a week. Scarlett still has no idea she's been sleeping with both of us." He gestured to the man beside him. A mirror image. His twin brother, Marco. "Last time, she was all over him, begging him for a baby." A low rumble of laughter went through the room. My blood ran cold. Someone piped up, nervous. "But Boss, what if she finds out?" Nico just scoffed. The sound was pure ice, pure control. "What's she gonna do? She has nothing without me. I gave all her best work to Bianca. She's the art world's new star. Scarlett's career is dead. I killed it. Her only choice is to be a good little Donna and beg for my scraps." That casual cruelty… it shattered my heart. He destroyed me for another woman. Played me for a fool. Any love I had for him died in that instant. I pulled out my phone. I found the message I'd been ignoring. The curator offer from that top European foundation. I typed my reply: "Yes." He thought I was his to break? He was wrong. In seven days, I would be gone. Vanished from his world for good.

This bottle girl, new to the club, always demanded I serve her. And only me. She was good for business, so I let it slide. Then, one weekend, two in the morning. I’m in bed in the penthouse. She calls, barking orders at me. “I’m in the ‘Paradise’ suite. Get up here with a bottle and get me right.” I almost laughed. The girl was an idiot. “It’s 2 AM. Are you ordering me around? I’m not your bodyguard or your dealer.” She sneered, her voice dripping with arrogance. “My cousin is the club manager. You should feel honored to serve me. By the way, your ‘protection fee’ is late this month. Get your ass over here now, or I’ll have my cousin dump you in the Chicago River.” Oh. She had no idea. The docks along the Chicago River… they’re mine. All of them.