Nami Shower Scene Novels & Stories

"What do you think, Kenzo? Do I look sexy in this" pushing the door open to his suite room, he was met with the most unexpected scene, with sprawled legs on both sides of the bed, a book in her hands, in a flowy lacy thin white gown which stuck dangerously to her body, doing absolute justice to her perfectly rounded boobs which poked out dangerously through the see-through night gown, his long distance wife was right there, on the bed. She finally looked away from the book which was seated on both palms of her hands, she tucked it aside and then raised her head up, her eyes meeting his. "Missed me, dear husband?" Three weeks and four days ago was their 7th year wedding anniversary, and she wasn't available, she was never available, not for the first, second, fifth, nor sixth. So, why was she here now? After years of living totally apart despite being married, their main focus was their company, or at least, hers. They married for love, people think they didn't, they think it is a contract marriage, they married for love, or maybe just him. He married her because he loved her and he thought she did too, but maybe he was wrong. Why was she here now? This is a short, fast-paced romance designed to keep you hooked from the first page to the last.

On Christmas night, my husband, Finnick Carson, can't spend the holidays with me because he's on a business trip. In order to make it up to me, he's specifically ordered a Christmas feast from a fancy restaurant and has it delivered to our home. But when I open the box containing the feast, I'm shell-shocked by what I see. Not only an array of seafood—that I'm allergic to—is arranged in containers, but there's also a kid's meal set included in the feast. When the deliveryman sees the food, he apologizes to me and tells me that he's mixed up the two meals that Finnick has ordered. This leaves me feeling uneasy. Why would my husband order two meals? So, I decide to find my way to the delivery address that the other meal is meant for. Shockingly enough, I see Finnick standing in a villa's backyard while picking candies from a Christmas tree with a mother and a son. The little boy then rushes into his arms happily. "Daddy, I'd like an amusement park for my birthday gift this year!" Finnick pinches his cheek gently. "Okay. I'll give your mommy a set of jewelry, too." The woman cuddles with him happily. "You're so nice to us, honey!" Having recorded the entire scene quietly, I send it to my lawyer. "Help me expedite my divorce so that my husband can reunite with his family as soon as possible."

After we were both reborn, my wife and I decided to part ways and live our own lives. She went to Newport with Klay Bernhard, the son of a wealthy family, while I went to study at a university in the capital. By leveraging her past life's experience, she helped her new boyfriend avoid investment risks and devise a brilliant business strategy. It didn't take long before she got everything she wanted in the past life. Meanwhile, I continued to focus on my studies and was content with living a mundane life. We met again at a class reunion years later. I saw her arm-in-arm with Klay. She was showing off the enormous diamond ring she wore. "It's been ten years, haven't you made anything of yourself?" All I did was smile and remain silent. That was until a wealthy businesswoman showed up late to the scene and threw herself into my arms. "You promised me we would go get our marriage license when I come back, you can't go back on your word!" At that moment, my wife from the past life, who was usually prideful, had a look of sheer disbelief in her eyes. It finally clicked for her that the reason I was willing to separate from her for so many years was not that I was stubborn. It was because we were through.

Everyone in the underworld knew Rosalie Thorne, the "Thorn Principessa" of the North. Wild, rebellious, notorious. Street racing, high-stakes gambling, guns, and drinking, she had mastered them all. The rose-and-thorn tattoo on the nape of her neck drove countless men wild. But what they didn't know was that for Rocco, the new mob boss of the South, a single sentence, "I prefer a more obedient woman," was all it took. At his word, I had the tattoo lasered off and swapped my leathers for long, conservative dresses. I am Rosalie. For five years, I hid my identity and played the porcelain doll Rocco wanted. Until the night he eliminated all his rivals and was crowned the new Don of the South. That was when he let his men bow to another woman, hailing her as their "Donna." I watched Rocco. The same hands that had just executed a traitor were now gently placing a pair of red high heels on the feet of his adoptive sister, Vivian. "Rosalie, she has a temper. She'll make a scene if she doesn't get the title." "You're the good one, the obedient one. Just let her have this." That day, I walked straight out into the rain and never looked back. I was never truly obedient. I just made myself smaller for him. My family had already chosen a husband for me. They had been waiting five years, just for me to say yes.

　　I pushed open the door to the Alpha Villa. Just back from the werewolf hospital; back from the miscarriage. 　　Then I heard it—a woman's moans, slicing through the silence of the bedroom. 　　Peering through the door crack, I saw our Omega maid, Irina, having sex with my husband. 　　Lucien gripped her waist and warned her, "We must keep this a secret. I don't want her to cause a scene, and I've never intended to replace my Luna." 　　Irina moaned in agreement, "Don't worry, Luc. I'm willing to be your secret lover forever." 　　Then, with low growls, they climaxed together. 　　What they didn't know was that I had discovered their affair early this morning—I had seen the flirtatious messages Irina sent to Lucien, which ultimately led to my miscarriage. 　　But I had no intention of confronting him. 　　Instead, I had already submitted a forced mate dissolution request to the Werewolf Alliance Council and sent a message to the ancient Grand Sorceress in the Blood Moon Forest, who had long wanted to take me as her apprentice. 　　In three days, the request would take effect, and the Grand Sorceress would come for me with a potion to alter my werewolf scent. 　　I would enter the Blood Moon Forest as nothing but a new identity and a sorceress’s heir. 　　I will erase myself from Lucien's world forever.

Ever since I married Myra Cowan, I started living like a beggar despite making an annual salary of a million dollars. She kept telling me, "We should hang in there for now, honey. Once we've saved enough money, we'll be able to live however we want without worrying about our financial situation." My closet was stuffed with old suits bought ten years ago. My lunches were always sandwiches, which were nearing their expiry dates, bought from convenience stores. My friends made fun of me for marrying a woman who was addicted to saving money. But my heart went out to Myra for suffering with me in life. But when I was diagnosed with late-stage stomach cancer and needed money for a life-saving surgery, Myra broke down in tears and told me that all of our savings were kept in a fixed-term deposit. Before I drew my last breath, I heard Myra telling her younger brother, Dwight Cowan, over the phone in a gentle tone, "I've already transferred you the down payment for your house." When I open my eyes again, I've returned to the day Myra demands that I sell my gaming account in exchange for money. The monitor shows a familiar login screen. Myra can be seen standing next to me. "This account can be sold for 8,000 dollars. We can save three months' worth of expenses with this money!" I just laugh in response. In my previous life, I had done nothing but save money. In the end, all of my money became someone else's assets. Why the hell should I save money in this life? With just one click on the mouse, I reload a million dollars into the game right away. Immediately, a reddish-golden meteor shower covers the skies of the entire server. The system makes an announcement in a bold, enlarged font that gets repeated for a long time. "Player 'Void' spares no expense, inviting fair maidens from across the realms to forge a destined bond! Those who are interested are welcome to attend the Celestial Lake Gathering. A bride price of one million awaits—offered in exchange for a single, sincere heart."

I was an ordinary mortal girl who lived at the foot of Mount Olympus. Caelum, King of the Gods, descended from the heavens for me once, transforming himself into a shower of gold. He took me to the peak of Olympus over every other god’s objection. He built a shrine on the mountain that belonged to me alone, every god on Olympus knew the same truth: I was the only mortal love of Caelum’s endless life. Then I gave birth to our daughter, Nia. The Fates declared her a cursed child whose existence would bring disaster to the gods, and Nia and I were sent back down to the small cottage at the foot of the mountain. Seraphina, Goddess of Flame, said she could help cleanse Nia of the curse, and with Caelum’s quiet consent she came every month and burned my daughter with divine fire. Nia screamed under that fire, sobbing for me . I ran into the temple to beg Caelum to stop it, and I found him in bed with Seraphina. The pure, holy Goddess of Flame was moaning beneath him. They threw me into the depths of Tartarus, where Seraphina handed me over to the Erinyes to be torn apart day after day. When Nia turned five, they finally let me out, but by then my Nia had been burned to ash. The day I was gathering her ashes, the message stone in my room suddenly lit up, and a projection flickered out of it: Caelum, as he had been five years ago. His eyes were full of joy and anticipation, and his voice was so gentle it almost made me believe time had folded back on itself. “Sweetheart, is it a boy or a girl? Did our child inherit my power?” In the projection his expression shifted, and the smile froze on his face. That was when the door of my room was pushed open, and the present-day Caelum, five years older than the man in the stone, strode inside. I turned the message stone around so the Caelum from five years ago could see Nia’s urn with his own eyes. “It’s a girl,” I said. “But she didn’t live long enough to inherit your power. She was burned to ash.”

My husband Bruno's goomah was pregnant with their second child. At the family dinner, he caressed his lover Ava's rounded belly. "This one will be a boy, the future heir to the Marino family. As my wife, it is your duty to raise him." This was the second time he had openly acknowledged one of his bastards. I didn't make a scene like I had before. I just calmly lifted my head and looked Bruno straight in the eye. Raucous laughter erupted from the family members around the table. "Remember last time, when she acted like a madwoman? Looks like she's finally learned her place." "The Rossi family's businesses have all been carved up. What can she do besides be an infertile trophy wife? She'll be kicked to the curb sooner or later." Bruno's face was expressionless, allowing them to hurl their insults at me. I fought back the tears burning my eyes and even managed a small smile. "Bruno, let's get a divorce." Bruno looked as if he'd heard the funniest joke in the world, his lips curling into a dismissive smirk. "Liliana, if you can come up with the hundred million dollars you owe this family, I'll sign the papers right now. Otherwise, stop making a scene." I didn't argue, and just dialed an encrypted number. "I accept the terms we discussed." A lazy laugh echoed from the other end of the line. "A hundred million? Merely the cost of a port. I can have it for you anytime, my princess."

Dressed in white, rose in hand and waiting for her husband at the aisle for more than an hour was never the kind of scene Stephanie Clark had ever thought about when fantasising what her dream wedding would be like. Hours passed, and unable to bear the murmurings anymore, she strode out of the wedding hall, and went straight to the groom’s prep room, expecting to find her soon to be husband with probably his groom's men. What she would have never expected was finding him deep inside her stepsister. She’s devastated and humiliated. Burning with the ache of rage, she turned around and grabbed the very first man she saw outside. To add to her list of unexpected situations for the day, the moment she pulled away, she realised the man she kissed was none other than her groom’s elder brother who was rumoured to be callously handsome, ruthless to the core, and worse, incapable of fathering children. She goes to a club to drink her sorrows away, only to end up in Zane's bed. Vengeance meets opportunity, Stephanie Clark and Zane Wright make a deal: he’ll give her everything she needs for revenge, wealth enough to vanish and start over but only if she gives him the one thing he wants most, an heir. Zane doesn't make it easy. He sets down five rules. No affection. No questions. No betrayal. No disobedience. No forgetting or deviating from the aim. It was all supposed to be easy. But when desire burns between them, what happens when one of the rules is broken?

My husband, Alex Carter, is a top AI engineer. He one day gets drugged by a new intern at his company, and one night of chaos follows. He calls me the next morning, his voice hoarse from a hangover and filled with unfamiliar panic. "Em, I messed up. But don't worry. I gave her enough money to disappear from this city." After ten years together, I believe it is just a momentary lapse in judgment. Six months later, Alex's company suffers the worst cyber attack in its history, with core data hanging by a thread. I rush back from a fragrance exhibition in Astral, only to witness a scene at the data center entrance that sends me into shock. Alex stands outside the tightly sealed door, his face showing a weariness and guilt I have never seen before. The doctor says that the intern, Brooke Anderson, is three months pregnant and has spent 72 hours with him in the high-radiation server room. Now, she shows signs of miscarriage. Later, Brooke gives birth to twins, a boy and a girl. The entire Carter family is ecstatic. I remove the wedding ring that has accompanied me for ten years, my fingertips turning ice cold. I dial the number saved with only one letter "S" and say, "Mr. Sullivan, I accept the collaboration you proposed last time." A low, soft laugh comes from the other end of the line. "Ms. Emma Shaw, that's a wise decision."