Keys Sound

"I...Is he my son?" He asked in shock when he saw my son Aldo standing beside me, and I tried to hide Aldo behind my body protectively, scared that now he might take my son from me when he finds out that he is his son, and all this time I have been keeping it a secret. "No! He is not." I lied, trying to sound confident, but I knew I was failing miserably as my forehead was sweaty and my tone was trembling. "Shut up, Sab. Don't lie to me, because you clearly mentioned that the only man who has been inside of you is me. And, even if you lie, no one is going to believe that this boy isn't my son because he looks just like me. Now, the question is, Why did you keep him away from me all this time? Why?!" he barked out the last sentence in anger, making me flinch and Aldo cry out of fear from this man. The Ruthless Italian Tycoon that I had one night stand with and ended up pregnant with his secret heir.

My childhood friend called, saying he was trapped in a fire. He wanted to hear my voice one last time, and I rushed to the scene as fast as I could. But in that small, blazing spot, there was only a cat. Stumbling, I got the cat out, but my arms got burned. A crowd gathered, pointing at me and laughing hysterically. "She actually went for it?" "What a simp, risking her life like that!" Safe and sound, Colin Porter stepped out of the crowd with a grin. He picked up the cat from my arms and handed it to his crush. "See? I told you the cat would be fine. When have I ever lied to you?" Turning back to me, he said, "The cat got spooked and ran into the fire. We didn't know what to do, so we called you. Thank you for your help." The people around us snickered, like they were watching a trained dog. Later, on my wedding day, my husband carried me to the car. Colin, dragging his burned, bloody legs, crawled on the ground. He begged, "I'm hurt, Selena! Come help me!"

“I would like to introduce you all to the person who will be overseeing this project, our new project manager, Jenna Anderson.” Being followed by the students and teachers clapping their hands, which was then followed by the click-clacking sound of high heels on wooden floors, and my eyes widened as my heart started the pound with surprise and anticipation at what my eyes were seeing next. Long, lean legs, a perfect ass wrapped up in a black pencil skirt. A blouse that hugged every perfect curve. Blonde hair that was right now up in a high ponytail instead of loose like it had been on New Year’s Eve. I couldn’t help but smile widely, believing that fate had intertwined our paths once again. The woman who had both haunted my dreams and intrigued me deeply was now in a project at my very own workplace. And even better, right now I also knew her name. Jenna Anderson. And now, I was happy to know that my parents did not raise a quitter in their firstborn son, because from the second I saw her, I knew that I would chase her, win her over, and make her mine, forever.

"Do you remember me from the bar, the other night?" I questioned him anxiously. I stepped back in and placed my hand over my stomach absentmindedly. Unaware of the eyes that followed them closely. "No, I don't seem to recall" His dark green eyes watched my every movement, nothing but dark clouds behind them. "I'm Vanessa and I-" I had started to say but was cut off by the sharp sound of a telephone ringing. "No need for names, get on with it. my meeting is about to start." He interrupted me coldly. "Well. It's only right for you to know my name since I'm pregnant." "Congratulations." He said simply while getting up to leave. Inhaling a deep breath, I stepped forward and prepared for the words to leave my mouth. "It's yours" Vanessa Bernardi is an 18-year-old high schooler. Her life was normal as she wanted it to be until she gave in to her friend's pleads and cries, to go partying one night. Which landed her right into the lap of the rich and powerful Alpha, Demetrius Mancini. Who would've thought the best night of her life would become the beginning of a new one?

As a snapping sound filled the air loudly, a rumbling echoed through the cold air. As three Twister's formed . Around her and the earth parted. Aspen screamed, " please im sorry, I had no choice!" she screamed. Falling just on the edge of the split erth. Looking down into the earth's fiery core. Swallowing hard." Please... Please I'll make this right! " she begged. . The wind picked up, a voice on the breeze "Thier is no making this right." The voice was cold. As a bolt of lightning cracked in the sky was now made up of deep red clouds . The earth shook, cause Aspen grip to tighten the edge her form shaking violently at this point. " Please. I.. I can.. I can give them their memories back! " She held the edge for dear life trying to wiggle back further away from the edge. That won't fix the damage you've done to my son! " The earth shook. Aspen a blood curling scream was heard. As Another flash of light hit the sky but it showed in the shape of a skull. As blood rained from the sky. " Please goddess she begged, As she fell i the firey abyss. I can give them their memories.

⚠️⚠️Warning!⚠️⚠️ Contents of this book contains STRAIGHT, LESBIAN and GAY sex. If you're not into all three, I’d advise you to stop here. But if you love them all…then I dare you to read these hot stories without craving forbidden pleasure. ~~ “You want that, don't you?” Rocco asked, pinching my left nipple through my top as he rubbed himself against my thighs. A helpless sound escaped my lips, my lungs now begging for air under his chokehold. He pinched my nipple once more, cupping my boob in a tight squeeze. I whimpered, both from the pressure on my neck, and the teasing on my nipples. “No baby. Use your words,” he instructed, his hand moving to my right boob. When Thalia–an assassin–was sent to murder her latest target, she expected a quick mission. She didn't expect to be in bed with the man she was meant to destroy. Caught between duty and desire, one mistake could cost her everything. Because if her boss finds out… She won't live to tell the story. In this erotic collection, pleasure is dangerous and survival? Never guaranteed.

“Breathe,” I muttered to myself as I walked down the aisle, bouquet in hand, scanning the few people seated, people I barely knew, but the groom was nowhere in sight. Panic set in. My heart skipped a beat. Was I about to be ditched on my wedding day? I could already picture what the headline would be : Daughter of Late CEO of Nova White Robotics Abandoned at the Altar. Not only would I be disgraced, but my chances of taking over the company would slip away, and my enemies? Well, they would dance and jubilate. Just as I was about give up, I heard the sound of hasty footsteps. The crowd turned and gasped in shock as Mason appeared, looking dashing in a sharp three-piece crisp suit. His piercing blue eyes locked onto mine. “Sorry, I’m late. My suit didn’t arrive on time,” he said with an apologetic smile. I nodded and the priest began reading the vows, he turned to me and asked, "Will you take Mr. Mason Anderson as your lawfully wedded husband, to love and protect?" I tried to speak, but the words stuck in my throat. I just stood there, lost in confusion, unsure if this was the right choice.

Alena Sabine Florence, now an aspiring drummer, was originally inspired by the young prodigy of a guitarist boy when she was a kid. Driven by the desire to play music with him someday, she chose to take on the path of a complex lifestyle and thrived hard to be as good as she could with the drums. She had never stopped hoping to meet the boy again. She thought, that as long as she kept working hard to make a name for herself, they will eventually meet again. So, when an opportunity has risen; a way to challenge her skills came, she joined her friend’s indie band. However, fate seemed to work way more twisted than she expected, because when her greatest wish came true, it didn’t bring her joy as she imagined. The boy she considered an unreachable star, was stuck in a nameless local indie band. Furthermore, his sound doesn’t resonate the joy of making music, or love for music anymore. He just sounded bland, flat, and boring. Just another typical story of a bright, hopeful girl, and the lackluster, musical genius boy. Except, it ain’t typical. Hear thy heart’s rhythm; a search for a melodious love.

The day I win a brand-new BMW, I suddenly receive a call from myself, ten years in the future. "Kieran will ask to borrow your car in a bit. And whatever you do, do not lend it to him. He intends to use it to pay off his gambling debt." Even with such an impossibility happening to me, I do not doubt a thing. When Kieran asks for my keys, I shut him down at once. That very night, he drives his old beater car to visit our parents. Along the way, he loses control of the car and collides with another vehicle. Just like that, he slips into a coma. The guilt hit me so hard that I eventually pass out. Mom and Dad stay by my side day and night until I can stand on my own two feet again. But the future version of me sounds cold when she calls again. "They only want to push you onto an operating table. They want your heart to save him!" Growing suspicious, I check their bags and find a donor report. Rage burns through me. I immediately block them on all platforms and throw them out of my home. When news that Kieran dies from blood loss arrives, I learn that they only ever needed my blood—not my heart. I try to find them to tell them the truth and apologize for my mistake. But the mysterious phone rings again. "They hate you because Kieran died. If you go to them now, they will drag you into a suicide pact." I freeze at the revelation, then tell my future myself that I will wait until they calm down. Later, I learn that a thief breaks into their home and kills them. I try to rush over and see them one last time, but a truck hits me and kills me on the spot. I die without ever understanding why the version of me from ten years in the future wanted me dead. When I open my eyes again, I am back on the day I won the prize.

My mother claims my husband has cheated on me and pushes me to get a divorce. I want to collect evidence before proceeding with anything—if it's true, I have to uphold my rights. Yet she causes a scene at an art exhibition I've worked on for three years, humiliating me in public and making me sound like a gold digger. "How are you any different from a prostitute when you're holding this dumb exhibition with a man's money? I didn't raise you to be a gold digger! How can you be so revolting?" She slashes the million-dollar paintings in the exhibition, claiming that she's doing this for my good. She wants me to see the error of my ways and return to the right path. Meanwhile, I clutch my bloody hand, which she slashed with her blade. I say, "You say you want me to return to the right path, but is that what it really is? You want me to divorce my legally wedded husband, who's a CEO, without a penny to my name. "Then, you want me to marry a 45-year-old cheap man who has a child and no money? He even wants me to support him!"