Naughty Babe

"Rolling my eyes, I turn to see an extremely handsome man with short, styled, black hair staring back at me. His eyes are so dark brown that it appears that they are black. Even though I usually don't like men with a beard and mustache, he looks so hot with it, that I would melt in his hands if he touched me. This man oozes sex from every pore of his body. So much so, that when he accidently brushes my cheek with his hand, goosebumps instantly form on my arms. When I continue to stare at him, I notice that he glances down at my dress and just stares. Realizing why, I try to fold my arms across my chest, but he is standing so close, I can’t move without touching him." Dani as her family calls her lovingly, has always been the quiet mousy type.  She lives her life through books, while everyone else lives their lives to the fullest.  Always watching the world around her, she never quite is able to command the attention of anyone except for her friends and family.  When she finds out that she has to get a job to survive, she goes to the city and ends up working under Mr. knight.  Getting more than she bargains for, in the end is she naughty or nice?

By the time I return home from a business trip, it is past midnight. However, my wife, Celeste Beaumont, isn't home. A man's shirt that isn't mine is lying on the couch. When I call her, she tells me that she's working late at the office. "Whose shirt is it on the couch?" I ask, cutting straight to the point. She playfully scolds, "Who else would it be? It's a gift for you, so hurry up and try it on." I skeptically put it on and immediately feel how tight and uncomfortable it is across my shoulders. "This is an L, babe. I've always worn XL." Celeste runs a clothing company. She's the one who handles all my clothes and even uses my body measurements for her menswear line. There's no way she doesn't know my size. The line goes quiet for half a second before she thoughtfully says, "It's from my new menswear collection. "I had pieces custom-made for you and Felix, so I must've grabbed the wrong piece. I'll swap it tomorrow." A beat later, her voice carries a little sob as she continues, "Babe, I've been so exhausted without you these past few days. I've missed you so much…" It's past midnight. As I listen to the undeniable weariness beneath her affectionate, playful words, my heart aches in distress. I can't help chiding myself for overthinking. However, after hanging up, realization hits me. Her brother, Felix Beaumont, and I are about the same build. He's always worn XL.

My fiancé, Luca, dragged me along to a party with his crew. We had barely walked through the door before his boys were hounding him to play "Seven Minutes in Heaven." "Angelina, babe, come join us!" Fiona, Luca’s "best friend" from back home, called out to me with a smirk. I shook my head and slipped onto a barstool, my fingers nervously tracing the rim of my glass. I watched them huddle in a circle, drawing cigar bands with names scribbled on them. Luca drew Fiona. They shared a laugh before disappearing into the storage room behind the bar. "Seven minutes! Starting... now!" someone hollered, followed by a chorus of whistles. But seven minutes came and went. The door stayed shut. Ten minutes. Fifteen. Twenty... I finally stood up, my heart hammering against my ribs, ready to see what was going on. Just then, I heard Luca’s friends whispering in a thick Sicilian dialect. "This American guy... her head is greener than a lemon tree in Palermo and she doesn’t even know it." "I bet Luca and Fiona are having the time of their lives in there right now." "Poor Boston girl. Look at her, sitting there like a loyal little dog. Hilarious." I froze. My blood turned to ice, and the air felt too thin to breathe. Suddenly, the storage room door creaked open. Luca walked out, wiping sweat from his brow, followed closely by Fiona, who was busy smoothing out her rumpled shirt. "Whoa, how was it? Seven minutes in heaven live up to the hype?" someone teased. Luca smirked, his eyes glazed with satisfaction. "Better. I didn't want to leave."

Hunter Webster is the Alpha's son; the next Alpha in line once he turns 18 but to humans, he's just the mayor's son, a bad boy and an embodiment of trouble. Hunter has a secret; his bad-boy attitude was just a cover-up for the grave sin he's committing until a girl from his past came into the picture, ready to win over his heart and unravel his darkest secrets.Babara Arnold attracts trouble everywhere she gets to, even if it is at school or home. She meets Hunter Webster after several years and in the process of trying to avoid the bad boy, she keeps on getting thrown into his hands. "What are you doing here?" I asked. I could hear murmuring around us."Eating, just like you three" he replied"You can't sit here," I warned."Why?" "You're trouble," I replied."Is that surprising? You see me in leather jackets, bikes and I have tattoos as well. Isn't that enough to let you know that boys like that are usually trouble? You don't have to state the obvious, Babe" He answered. "You need to leave" "If you want your cousin to be safe, you'll sit like the good girl that you are and have breakfast" He warned.I turned to look at Pinky and I could see the discomfort on her face. The guys with her waved at me to my disgust."Sit Babara. Don't make me hurt somebody else today? Yesterday was enough for me," He growled in an inhuman manner.

Mac saw her eyes burst into flame, just jump to life. His hand stilled, and his cock stiffened. “There you are, babe,” he whispered. “I knew you were still in there somewhere.” Her eyes sparked again. “Shane…” “Nuh-uh.” His voice was husky and dark. “Don’t say anything – just keep looking at me like that.” “Like what?” “Like I’m buried deep inside you, and you’re just about to come.” **** Four years ago, Miranda Campbell – once Miranda Kane – walked away from the only man she ever loved. Not because she wanted to, but because staying would have gotten him killed. She vanished to protect Shane MacIntyre, rebuilding her life in secrecy and fear. When fate throws them back together and Shane demands the truth, Mirrie knows she can’t run anymore. It’s time to tell him who she really is, and why loving her was never safe. Shane “Mac” MacIntyre doesn’t believe in attachments. The woman who broke him disappeared without a word, leaving behind a life of hard work and harder one-night stands. Seeing Mirrie again changes everything. He’ll fight monsters, enemies, and fate itself to keep her alive and bring her back to him. But some dangers don’t forgive bravery. And if Shane survives what’s coming, he may still lose Mirrie...for risking everything she sacrificed to save him.

“F*ck, you’re so tight, babe!” I put a hand over my mouth as I peeked through the gap in the door. “I like it! I like it! Harder, Dan!” Gia moaned, nearly losing her mind. “I don’t think we’ll be able to do this anymore, since you’re getting married tomorrow,” Gia said, breathless. “Even if I’m married, I’ll still pound you hard like I’m single,” Daniel replied between breaths, continuing to thrust into Gia—while Gia glanced toward where I was and smirked at me, as if to mock me. Yes—she could see me clearly. And it felt like she asked Daniel that on purpose, as if it was something they did all the time. I used to think Daniel was such a gentleman because he never asked me for that kind of thing. Turns out, he was getting it from someone else. Inside the room, I could see my fiancé, Daniel, completely naked behind his childhood friend Gia—who was also completely naked. I didn’t even realize the tears were falling until I felt them on my cheeks, still staring at their filthy act. I thought I would be the one to surprise him—but I was the one who ended up shocked. I didn’t stay to watch what happened next. I left and wiped my tears away. “Just wait,” I whispered into the air, “and you’ll see how Althea Bailey gets her revenge…”

Over the Fourth of July weekend, I took my boyfriend's sister to his flashy new influencer hub. Fresh off brain surgery, Benedetta Griffin needed a break from her recovery, and I hoped the trip would lift her spirits. In the hub, a streamer was hawking a face cream like a carnival barker. "Listen, fam! The boss lady is slashing prices. Get this $3,800 cream for just $398 today!" Benedetta tugged my sleeve. "That cream is bad news." She'd interned at the FDA last summer and could spot a scam from a mile away. "It's packed with steroids. Long-term use will ruin your skin." Driven by her sense of justice, she marched up to the streamer. "You can't sell this unlicensed junk. The steroids exceed legal limits. Pull it from the shelves." Morgan Lamb froze, but then her fake smile twisted into a scowl. "Who the hell are you to trash my product?" Benedetta didn't back down. "You're scamming people, and you know it." Morgan planted her hands on her hips. "I'm the boss lady here. How dare you slander my brand? Nobody leaves until you cough up $500,000 for damages." "Boss lady?" My stomach churned. My boyfriend's sudden venture into the streaming industry now made sense. He was sinking money into this hub to bankroll his lover. I fumbled for my phone to call him, but Morgan was faster. "Babe, get to the hub. Two haters crashed the party, trying to tank our business."

By the time I got home from my business trip, it was already past midnight—and my husband wasn't there. A woman's blouse lay on the sofa. It wasn't mine. I called him. He said he was working late at the office. I didn't bother with pretense. "Whose blouse is on the sofa?" His tone was light and casual. "Who else would it be? It's obviously a gift for you. Try it on." Suspicious, I picked it up and held it against myself. The blouse was clearly one size too small. "Honey, this is a size S. I always wear M." My husband owns a clothing company. He handles all my clothes. He's even used my measurements to design women's wear. There's no way he doesn't know my size. On the phone, he froze for half a second, then spoke as if piecing something together. "This is a new women's line I'm launching. I ordered custom pieces for you and my sister. I must've grabbed the wrong one. I'll switch it tomorrow." A moment later, his voice softened with exhaustion. "Babe, you've been gone for days. Without you, I feel so tired… I miss you so much…" It was already late into the night. Hearing him sound vulnerable—something he rarely did—made my chest tighten. I blamed myself for overthinking. But the moment I hung up, realization struck. His sister has the same build as me. She always wears size M.

It was the climactic moment of my game, but the enemy's flash bang blinded me. After I reopened my eyes, I found myself in the world of the post-apocalyptic underdog comeback story I'd ranted about to my friend the day before. No, I wasn't the protagonist with a cheat for a system. Instead, I was the cannon fodder who suffered the worst fate. He also had my name. I found myself locked outside the armored vehicle while a swarm of high-level zombies had surrounded me. 'Blast,' I thought. 'All this just because I flamed them? And I just made a pentakill after my 8-win streak!' I told myself to calm down and let my mind do its work, but then the laughter of this body's wife echoed from the walkie-talkie. "Stop covering for him, gunners! We're livestreaming to the whole camp. My husband's going to rip these Tier Six zombies to shreds!" Then, the woman's useless male best friend buzzed with excitement. "I'll have a permanent spot in the inner city if he distracts the horde and they rip him apart in the process, babe!" If this went the way of the original story, I'd beg for help only to get no answer and be ripped apart by the zombies. Fortunately, I wasn't the same coward this guy used to be. The woman kept egging me on. I sneered. I didn't spend years playing competitive games for nothing. And so, I grabbed a high-frequency concussion grenade that could get the attention of every single zombie in a 3-mile radius, smashed the ventilation valve of the armored vehicle, and hurled the grenade inside.

“Answer me…how many fucking men have taken pleasure from this body…” I shake as I feel his fingers skating down my chest… Br*ast, N*pple, Torso, Then…then…my v*lva. I moan, staring into his orb with lust... He locks eyes with me while he feathers a touch over my clit. “Speak up. How many…have touched this cl*t, make it swell…make it h*rny…speak?” He commands and I moan... *** Since my eighteenth birthday everything I felt for my foster father turned into lust. I wanted him to ruin me for other men but he kept rejecting me. Breaking my heart. I'm not about to stop. I'll tempt him until he caves. Until he fucks me. Because David Truman is mine. **** David started having lustful feelings for Vera since her eighteenth birthday. He tried to make it stop but it couldn't. He knows involving in this naughty relationship with his foster daughter will implicate her life yet he can't help it. He wants to devour her. He want to own her. To ruin her for men. But after giving her himself as a gift on the night of her graduation, he wanted more. Will he still be able protect Vera from the mafia brothers searching everywhere for her?