Ha Na Uncanny Counter

Before the pack's Winter Solstice festival, I was given a Moonwater Mirror, forged from the waters of the Moon Goddess Spring. But the face staring back at me wasn't my own. It was my face, but younger. The girl I was eight years ago. Her eyes were bright with a joy I hadn't felt in years. When she realized I was from her future, she practically vibrated with excitement. "Our fated mate, Alpha Owen, he confessed today! He's going to plant moonflowers around the lake cabin. He'll stay with me for every full moon. He promised to make me his one and only Luna forever!" Her voice was full of hope for the future. Her joy was a bitter reminder of what I'd lost. I listened quietly, only managing a faint smile. My reaction must have given me away. Her excited chatter died. Her gaze drifted over my shoulder, taking in the cold, empty penthouse behind me. "Wait... where's Owen?" Her smile faltered. "We're happy, right? After eight years?" I didn't say a word. I just slowly, deliberately, turned the Moonwater Mirror toward the terrace. There, my Alpha mate, Owen, had another she-wolf pinned to the railing. Their mouths were fused, their breaths mingling in the cold night air.

Anastasia never expected much from her blind date—let alone that on that fateful day she would marry a complete stranger. As she embarked on her new life with her husband, Christopher, she envisioned a modest, respectful, and ordinary existence. However, Christopher soon revealed an unexpectedly devoted nature. No matter where Anastasia went, he was always there, showering her with unwavering affection and support in ways she had never anticipated. What astonished her even more was his uncanny knack for solving every problem she faced, whether a minor mishap at work or a significant personal crisis. Each time Anastasia encountered difficulty, Christopher would mysteriously step in, and the issue would be resolved almost as if by magic. When she probed him about his extraordinary interventions, he would simply smile enigmatically and attribute it all to luck. Yet, as days turned into months, this so-called luck began to raise questions. During one seemingly ordinary evening, while watching a televised interview, Anastasia’s world shifted dramatically. The program featured a celebrated New York billionaire renowned for his extravagant indulgence of his wife—lavish vacations, opulent gifts, and grand gestures that spoke of immense wealth and power. What left Anastasia utterly speechless was the uncanny resemblance between the billionaire and her very own Christopher.

A collection of short erotica ranging from one-shots to short stories that will leave you breathless and begging for more. From the girl who seduces her lecturer to the billionaire who bends his innocent new maid over the counter to the off-limits best friend’s brother who whispers filthy things in her ears. Every story is a standalone and straight-up sinful. It explores themes like age-gap, forbidden love, BDSM, dub-con, threesomes, cheating, and every other thing you can think of, so buckle up and get ready for the ride! All characters are 18+

Three years ago, my father marries me off to Evan Blackwell, the CEO of Blackwell Group, for the family's interests. Everyone thinks I'm done for because Evan is known for being ruthless and cruel. Yet, he's nothing but gentle to me, and he never raises his voice at me. He even has my initials, SH, tattooed on his chest. Every year on our anniversary, fireworks bloom across the city right on the dot. They spell out my name and the loving words he dedicates to me. On our third anniversary, the fireworks suddenly replace my name, Selena Holloway, with Serena Harroway. Before I can ask about it, Evan immediately calls his subordinates and tears into them. "What's going on? How could you mess up my wife's name? Do you want to lose your jobs?" I hastily tell him it's fine and that the thought is what truly matters. In the end, he lets them off the hook. However, he pushes me until my legs are shaking and my voice is gone that night. When I wake from the night that leaves my whole body humming, he's already seated at his desk and buried in work. He asks me to grab a folder for him, yet I open the wrong drawer and stumble upon an old photo album. It contains intimate photos of him and a young woman who looks strikingly like me. There's a confession on the back of every single picture. "I miss you so much, Serena."

Every witch awakened a gift when she came of age. Mine was simple. I could siphon my husband's fortune. On Christmas Eve, my husband spent 20,000,000 on a ring and proposed to his mistress as if he were buying a headline. The trending page exploded. Everyone waited to see how quickly I would be thrown out. The pathetic wife was finally swept out the door. When I stayed quiet, Jasper Prescott's tone turned playful, almost indulgent. "She's just a kid. She wanted the whole 'moment.' Your place isn't going anywhere." Then he added, as if assigning me a chore, "She's young. She can't handle things. Pay more attention to the engagement party's details." As though he feared I might cause trouble, he slid a black card across the table with casual ease. "Babe, you know what I value most," he said. "You being sensible." I pinched the cold card between my fingers, smiled, and nodded. No one knew the rule hidden inside our marriage. After we married, every time Jasper betrayed me, I took a piece of his fortune, stripping it from him one point at a time and adding it to my own. Once Christmas was over, I would take whatever he had left.

Ever since we were kids, I'd always known how to make use of my gentle childhood friend for things like sending him on errands, and borrowing his allowance. He never complained. Just silently indulged me. Things continued the same way until the day we got engaged. That's when everything snapped into place. That was the day we both woke up. I was just a throwaway character in a novel. He was the male lead—fated to fall in love and end up with the novel's heroine. I was stunned. Ready to walk away. But he was furious. Jaw clenched, eyes wild. He grabbed my hand and dragged me straight to City Hall. "Screw the novel. Screw the plot. The only thing I know is that I love you, and I want forever with you." After we got married, he treated me like I was made of glass. Gentle. Meticulous. We worked side by side, building a reputation as a power couple in the business world. The events of the novel faded into the background. I fell deeper in love with him. Three years later, the youngest daughter of a real estate tycoon started her internship at our company. That day, there was a fire in the office. In the chaos, the girl stumbled into a shelving unit. It came crashing down, headed straight for my husband. I didn't hesitate. I threw myself in front of him. Pain exploded in my skull. Blood poured down my face. The girl, in her panic, had fallen to the ground, crying out, "Aaron, help me!" My husband's face went pale. His expression—pure terror—as he ran toward her without a second thought. "Grace!" he cried. Lightning split through me. My face drained of color. The heroine in the novel—her name was Grace.

On the eve of his Alpha succession ceremony, my fiancé Hunter prepared lavish gifts for all the distinguished guests and had Freya distribute them. Freya obliged with a smile. Then, when she reached me, her gaze swept over me with nothing but contempt. “Move aside. This isn’t for you.” She tossed an exile notice at my face. “You’re just a she-wolf who likes to seduce. Think you deserve an Alpha’s gift? Dream on. You’re not welcome here. Get out of our pack!” At that moment, the guests opened the gift boxes Freya handed out. Inside, alongside a rare blue moonstone, were photos of me in intimate moments with other Alpha males from different packs. In an instant, I became the pack’s traitorous, unfaithful woman. My face darkened as I stared at Hunter. “You’re really going to exile me from the pack?”

After Stefan Grimaldi's first love died, he hated me for five years. I did everything I could to please him, but he never softened. The only thing he ever said was, "If you really want to make me happy, go die. Go keep Sienna company in her grave." It cut deep every time. I told myself it would always be this way, that he would carry that hatred until one of us was gone. I was wrong. When assassins came for us, Stefan stepped in front of the bullet without hesitation. He went down in my arms. With the little breath he had left, he looked up at me and said, "Annie, if there's a next life, I hope I never meet you again." At his funeral, his father stood over the casket, barely holding himself together. "Stefan, I was wrong. I never should have forced you to marry Annie. If I had listened to you back then and let you marry Sienna, none of this would have happened," he said. His mother turned on me, tears streaming, her eyes filled with blame. "This is all your fault. Every time, Stefan ended up in danger because of you. What have you ever given him besides disaster?" I kept my head down and said nothing. They were not the only ones with regrets. I regretted marrying Stefan too. On the night of the full moon, I climbed to the top of the church tower and jumped. I woke five years in the past. This time, I was done.

During the seventh year of my relationship with Oscar Ramsay, he goes back to his home country to inherit the position of heir to the Ramsay family from his younger brother, Oliver Ramsay, who passed away. He also accepts Oliver's widow, Evie Griffin, into the family. Every time after he sleeps with her, he will get down on his knees before me and beg me for forgiveness. "I'm sorry, Aurora. You're the only person I love, but none of this is of my own accord. I'll only be able to publicly announce our relationship after I successfully give Evie a baby to be the next family heir. "I'll be taking over the company by then, too, and give you a better life in the future." He even tells me resentfully that his father, Uriah Ramsay, had told him of his dying wish that Evie give birth to a baby boy. Over the next year, Oscar sleeps with Evie 200 times. It went from a few times a month to a few times a week. Eventually, Oscar just sleeps in her room every single night. After I lose sleep for 200 nights, Evie finally gets pregnant. The next day, Oscar and Evie get married at a very expensive and elaborate wedding at a church. Ingrid Ramsay, my daughter, gets upset when she sees Oscar and Evie kissing on the screen. "Mommy, why is Daddy getting married to someone else? You're his wife!" I cover Ingrid's eyes and smile bitterly. "Because Daddy doesn't love Mommy." Oscar doesn't know this, but I have never cared that other people didn't know about my real identity. I also don't care about his money or wealth. I only care whether or not he loves me. I'm no longer willing to face a man who cheats on me. Instead, I bring Ingrid with me as we leave him forever.

As the Principessa of the Falcone family, I craved danger and absolute freedom. But on my ninety-ninth attempt to escape my arranged marriage, Vito Moretti finally caught me. My dangerously handsome betrothed cornered me at an underground racetrack. "No one walks away from me, Liliana," he smirked from his modified Mustang. "You're the first." With my weakness for dangerous men, I made a life or death wager. "Beat me on the track, and I'll marry you. Lose, and you get out of my life." Our engines roared as we tore along the cliffside road, its curves dangerously free of guardrails. Nearing the finish line, I took a turn too fast and hurtled toward the edge. But just inches from victory, Vito jerked his wheel. He slammed his car into mine, knocking me to safety as his own plunged into the icy bay below. I scrambled down the cliff, terrified, and dragged his bleeding body from the water. "I lost," he gasped, life fading from his eyes. "You're free." My heart shattered into a million dazzling pieces as tears streamed down my face. Startled by my reaction, Vito swore softly. "Don't cry. I'll tell our fathers the broken engagement was my choice. No one will dare lay a finger on you." I sobbed and pressed my lips to his. "To hell with the bet, Vito Moretti. I'm marrying you!"