Meredith Grey House Novels & Stories

After ten years studying interior design overseas, I came back to my hometown to do work that mattered to the people who raised me. I offered the full package, from site survey to soft furnishings. The materials were chosen by hand. The price was fair to the bone. The town had just gone through a redevelopment. Everyone was getting new units. With the new family policy, every family wanted a third bedroom too. My business was good. Customers from the next county were driving in. Then a girl just back from a city college kicked open my studio with her phone on a livestream and her neighbors at her shoulder. "This is the dishonest one. Look at her. She has been ripping the village off." "In the city, an eighty-square-meter unit can be done for twenty thousand dollars. She is charging eighty." "That's a sixty-thousand-dollar margin. Sixty thousand. Right out of our pockets." The village fell in line behind her. They demanded the difference back. When I refused, they smashed my studio. They beat me into a coma. The pile-on online killed me. When I opened my eyes again, I knew exactly what I was going to do. I would refund every single one of them. And then I would tear out every single thing I had installed. Let's see what twenty thousand dollars actually buys you.

"Chels, you're turned on too, aren't you?" During a visit to the haunted house with my best friend, Chelsea Higgins, and her boyfriend, Ivan Benton, Ivan has mistaken me for Chelsea and has embraced me from behind. I can feel his warm palm slowly sliding up the hem of my skirt in the pitch-black darkness. At the same time, his hot breath keeps splaying over my nape and my earlobe. The most embarrassing thing is, I'm starting to get turned on by Ivan's actions for real.

His dick continued pounding into her. He had gone harder, stretching her even more. She couldn't help but moan. This sound had him losing his mind. He went even faster, his finger stuck in her hair. "Fuck!" He cursed as his breathing turned rapid. His hand went down to spread her legs apart as she tried closing them, not being to take all he was giving her. "Don't close them!" He said between grunts. His hand went to play with her clit. It had turned swollen. With each thrust, his hand went in a circle on her. His rough fingers were soft on her, going soft but at the same time, hard. He knew his techniques. Her legs began shaking more as she was on edge. She was ready to cum. Her eyes rolled to the back of her head as she began to drool slightly. His thrust remained in pace soon her walls began to tighten. She was near. " Oh yes!" She screamed as she came hard on his dick. She tried catching her breath, short of air from their sex. Quickly, he rolled over and she ended up on top. His dick was still inside her, hard and twisting. That was when it hit her, he hadn't had his release but she still asked. "What are you doing?" "We aren't done yet. You are going to ride me, hard and fast."

Emilia Clark, a young woman struggling with mounting family debts, responds to a mysterious job posting that arrived unexpectedly in her email. When she arrives at the upscale office for what she assumes is a standard interview, she discovers she's the sole candidate for an unusual position that wasn't clearly described in the original correspondence. The role, as revealed by the formidable Mrs. Grey—matriarch of a wealthy and traditional family—is that of a surrogate mother. The Greys are offering an extraordinarily large sum of money for Emilia to carry a child for their family, with the biological father being Mrs. Grey's son. The older woman presents this as a business transaction, delivered with cold efficiency and an underlying air of entitlement that comes with generations of wealth and influence. Mrs. Grey makes it clear that this is a one-time offer with no room for negotiation or delay—Emilia must accept immediately or leave and never return. There will be no second chances, no time to consider, and no opportunity to ask questions or seek advice. Caught completely off guard, Emilia finds herself in an impossible position. The money would solve her family's financial crisis and lift a burden that has been consuming her life. Yet the weight of the decision—to carry a child for strangers under such pressured circumstances—leaves her reeling. As Mrs. Grey waits for an answer, Emilia must quickly weigh her desperate need for financial security against her autonomy, dignity, and the ethical implications of entering into such an arrangement under duress.

“Pig,” I muttered under my breath. He took a deep pull of his pipe and breathed out. Even though his manner was easy, I could see something dangerous flash in his eyes. “Now, now. There’s no need for names. Once we get to know each other better, I’m sure you’ll find me quite irresistible. They all do.” He patted his lap, and he was back to his languid self. “Here. Why don’t you make yourself comfortable? I’m told I make a very pleasant seating arrangement. Careful, I might poke you in the middle.” _________ Clara Grey is a cursed werewolf. Her parents betrayed the Moonstone Pack and were killed when she was a child. Now she has nothing to look forward to in life except for being bullied by the horrible members of her pack. However, everything changes when vampires attack her city, and she meets the mysterious, but terrifyingly handsome Prince Deanneth of the Dark Shade pack. Not everything is as it seems with Prince Deanneth. He is a dark, twisted werewolf with a desire to possess Clara’s heart, soul, and mind. Clara Grey must not only battle the newly arisen threat of the Greater Vampires, but also the cruel manipulations of her new Alpha Deanneth Legiere. ________ Daily Update. This is NOT a story for faint-hearted. This is a story about dark hierarchical werewolf society containing explicit sexual content, menage, violence, abuse, trauma , drug and strong language. Definitely not suitable for readers who get triggered by these topics. Please read at your own risk.

I was born in a happy family with a loving parents and a caring brother until everything fall down into ruins caused by a mere misunderstanding and lies. My ignorance and foolishness puts oil into the fire as I feign to be the victim and keep my heart sealed off any truth. I point my blade to my loved one and keep my eyes shut towards what has happen. As time pass my heart turn frozen, regret filled in as it was him, laying on my hand soaked in his own blood, turning limp and blue. I cried but will my tears cover up for my retributions?

One day, I received a call from the property management. They politely advised me that even if it was a wedding, there was no need to make such a ruckus all night long, disturbing the neighbors. They said they were caught in the middle, and it was hard for them to deal with it. I replied, "You must be mistaken. I don't even have a boyfriend, so how could I be getting married?" Since I refused to admit it, the property management sent me a video from the community's security cameras. In the video, the hallway was decorated with lights and flowers, and guests were coming and going. A large group of people were escorting the bride into the new home. And the groom was none other than my ex-boyfriend, who I had broken up with two and a half years ago!

On New Year's Day, my childhood friend asked me for the passcode to my new house. I thought she was planning to bring a housewarming gift, but when I opened the door, I froze in shock. There were more than a dozen people inside. She walked over with a smile before giving me a subtle look. "Ryan, what are you doing here? Come on in. You're just in time. You're lucky enough to catch our family gathering." I stood there in stunned silence. Before I could even ask what was going on, her boyfriend suddenly spoke in a mocking tone. "Is your childhood friend very persuasive? I'm curious how he sweet-talked you into giving him your house's passcode." Her expression instantly turned serious. "He didn't sweet-talk me. He got on his knees and begged. He said he had a fight with his family and got kicked out with nowhere to stay. You know how soft-hearted I am. I didn't think much of it and just gave it to him." Her boyfriend's eyes had a look of contempt. "No normal man would stoop that low. Who knows how many women he's begged behind the scenes just to get what he wants." She gave him a look of approval. "Babe, how are you so smart? There was a time he stripped naked and begged me just to buy a watch he liked. I've told you about it." Her boyfriend burst out laughing. "So that was him? He's honestly shameless." Seeing her spew lies so casually and irresponsibly, I couldn't contain my anger. I stepped forward and slapped her hard across the face. "Who the hell do you think you are? Taking over my house and slandering me? Get out."

In the third year since my husband, Axel Kramer, starts working as a rideshare driver, we finally manage to buy a home of our own. On the day we move in, he suddenly says to me, "Some friends want to come over for dinner tonight. I already said yes." I'm someone who values boundaries and doesn't like outsiders coming into my home. Even when we host relatives, we take them out to restaurants. "Can't we just go to a restaurant?" I ask. He looks helpless as he replies, "I already suggested that, but Lindsay said it would be more fun if we hang out at home. She said we should liven it up in our new home. And since everyone knows I'm a good cook, she wants to try my cooking too." One corner of my eye twitches with displeasure. Lindsay Brun is the female driver he's mentioned the most over these three years. She's also the only woman in their rideshare drivers' group chat.

Because I was a cheapskate, I rented a cheap apartment. The catch? Someone had died in it. The soundproofing of the house was bad, and I could hear my neighbor’s wife moaning every night. But my other neighbor told me that there was no one living in the apartment next to mine.