Lipstick Bite

The New Year was just around the corner. While I was doing a thorough cleaning, I stumbled upon something beneath the couch. It was a damp, used condom, and it still had a faint lipstick stain on the edge. One thing I was sure of was that I didn't use this brand, but the lipstick color? It matched perfectly with my girlfriend Lindsey Stirling's.

I was the ultimate pick-me girl at the office, and somehow, I ended up inside a horror game before New Year's Eve. Seeing the bloody lady crawling in the dark elevator, I screamed out loud. "Oh my gosh! Where did you get that lipstick? It's perfect! It makes your skin look three shades lighter!" The bloody lady blinked at me in confusion as I helped her up. She even recommended the exact lipstick shade. Then I turned around and came face-to-face with the chainsaw-psycho general manager with multiple personalities, swinging his weapon around. I tied a little bow on his chainsaw. "Everyone else only cares if your chainsaw is sharp. I'm the only one who cares if you're tired from swinging it all day." The monsters in the room looked at each other, all thinking the same thing… Why did this feel weirdly wholesome?

I heard a small "come in" from the other end. Grabbing the knob, I twist it before pushing the door open. My eyes widened as I saw the scene unfold in front of me. Xavier stood there in the room along with a woman whose brown hair ruffled all over the place. Her blood-red lipstick was smudged. She was dressed in a revealing top. Her breast almost spilling out of her dress and extra tight and small skirt as if she'd just come from some club, her arms crossed and her features amused. She looked strangely familiar for some reason, and it took me a while to identify her, but I did. She was the same woman I had bumped into on the market. My eyes swiftly turned to Xavier. He was dressed in a suit identical to the one Xavier wore with the top few buttons open. What caught my eyes the most was the lipstick stain on his neck identical to the one the woman had on. My heart slumped in deep dejection. It wasn't any science- rocket to know what had occurred here before my arrival.

My boyfriend, Allen, is a fitness coach who is cheerful, handsome, and has eight-pack abs. After getting together with me, he transferred all his female students to other colleagues and would send me daily check-in photos. In anticipation of becoming his fiancee, I happily prepared for our engagement ceremony. However, two weeks before the ceremony, I discovered a bright red lipstick mark on Allen’s workout pants. I quickly pulled up the check-in photo he had sent me that day. Through the reflection on a dumbbell, I saw a woman standing next to Allen—her lips painted in the exact same lipstick color. Most of the previous photos had flaws, but I had trusted Allen too much to notice them. Looking at his message under the photo, I let out a cold laugh. "Baby, I have to work overtime today to train a male student." He actually dared to deceive me. Just then, my phone rang. It was the wedding planning company confirming the engagement ceremony setup. I quickly responded with a confirmation. The ceremony would proceed as planned—except I had a special surprise prepared for Allen, one he would never forget.

Zara Castellano doesn’t cry. She doesn’t beg. She doesn’t love. As the only daughter of the most feared mafia family on the East Coast, Zara was raised to command armies and slit throats in silence. At twenty-three, she’s spoiled, dangerous, and untouchable. Men want her. Enemies fear her. And everyone obeys her. Everyone… except Lucien Blake. A self-made billionaire with no allegiance to blood or bullets, Lucien becomes the pawn in a deadly marriage contract—one that ties him to a woman he’s never met but already loathes. Zara doesn’t want a husband. She wants a pet. A toy. A man she can dominate. Lucien isn’t used to bowing. But this time, saying “no” means death. Thrown into a marriage forged by blood and greed, the two clash like fire and ice. Zara pushes. Lucien resists. But behind every fight is a heat they can’t escape—and a twisted attraction that might just destroy them both. Zara doesn’t believe in love. She believes in control. And now, she owns a man who refuses to break. “You don’t have to love me, Lucien. You just have to kneel when I say so.” NOTE: If you’ve read my other books, you know my women bite back and my men bleed beautifully for them. Married to a Monster flips the classic dark romance—this time, the monster wears red lipstick and diamond stilettos. Expect power games, obsession, hate that turns to heat, and a heroine you’ll love to fear. This story contains dominance, manipulation, dark secrets, and psychological warfare—but always consensual. Trigger Warnings: Violence, dark themes, emotional manipulation, power imbalance, sexual tension, sex, obsession. Tags: Mafia Princess, Billionaire Husband, Enemies to Lovers, Forced Marriage, Dominant Heroine, Dark Romance, Power Couple.

Monica felt there was something different about her husband when he came home from bukber or buka together with his business partners. The husband she married for five years now seems not at home, there is just a reason for him to leave the house, namely bukber or buka together with business partners during this Ramadan month. Anton's clothes often smell of women's perfume, there are also traces of women's lipstick on his clothes. Can Monica uncover the facts of what really happened?

"I’m a good girl—until I got drunk in Vegas and married a panties-flaming-hot Irishman. Oops. I’ve always lived my life by the rules. Unlike my two sisters, I’m the good one. The responsible one. Going outside my comfort zone is when I wear red lipstick before five PM. That comfort zone of mine? It’s smashed to smithereens on a wild night in Las Vegas when I met—and married—Liam Gallagher. After one shot of tequila, then two, then too many to count, a good girl’s rules tend to disappear. And so do her panties, and her bra, and various other articles of clothing when she’s with an Irishman who knows his way around a woman’s body. Now my husband wants us to stay married. For six months. He says it’ll be worth my while. Considering our chemistry underneath the sheets, I can’t say that he’s wrong. Liam isn’t safe, though. Liam definitely isn’t comfortable. He’s like the male equivalent of wearing red lipstick in the daytime all wrapped up in an irresistible, dangerous package. Yet this stubborn Irishman isn’t about to let me go, drunken Princess Bride-themed Vegas wedding or no. Now I have to decide if I’m brave enough to break the rules for love."

After I confessed to my childhood crush, he smirked and said, "If you can get that loser to drink from the same bottle you did, I'll date you." Seriously? Was I really reborn fifteen years ago? I raced over to Noah—top of the class and hot as hell—and dropped the water bottle on his desk in front of everyone. He clocked the lipstick stain, face turning crimson. Future business mogul? Right now, he looked like some poor kid waiting to get crushed. I nudged the bottle closer. "Using that genius brain to collect bottles for cash? Kinda tragic. Be my private tutor instead." He might be broke, but lucky for him, I've got money to burn.

Jupiter Sephiran Acosta is a closeted gay. He dated numerous men in private, wore lipstick and wig in secret, and strutted every gay bar in town in disguise. The last thing he want for his father is to find out that he's gay. 'Else, he'd be kicked out of the company as a CEO or worse...his father would disown him! But when things started to slowly unfold, his desperation to cover up his sexuality leads him to a desperate measure. Perhaps a girlfriend could help him clean up his name? And who else would be the perfect candidate for that? Ah, yes! Juno, his crazy secretary who once confessed his undying love for him.

After twenty years of knowing and loving my destined mate, Alpha Martin, we were finally about to get married. On the eve of the wedding, He skillfully picked out the lipstick shade I wanted from my makeup bag. That's when I knew: Alpha Martin had someone else. That girl was wearing the custom evening gown I'd prepared for the wedding banquet, clinking glasses with Alpha Martin in a mate's toast. Our friends surrounded her, respectfully calling her "Luna." I didn't cause a scene. Instead, I called the hospital. "Dr. Fabian, please dispose of the eggs I had frozen." Then I sent a message to that girl. "Yvonne Jimenez, would you like to marry Martin Daniels in my place?"