Naughty Neighbors Novels & Stories

Warning: 18+ Contains explicit scenes and adult languages featuring hardcore erotica. This book is a collection of stories of steamy irresistible fun , naughty , filthy, office romances and sex with the boss. Get ready to be intrigued and feel the ultimate erotic excitement!!! **** “Before I could say another word, he bent me over the windowsill of his office and gripped the sides of my waist tightly. I responded by grinding back into him, feeling his hardness against me. “I want to fuck you with a view,” he said before thrusting into me finally. I let out a loud moan as I adjusted to his girth. He had filled me up completely, stretching me to accommodate his size. God, it felt so fucking good I immediately began to tremble. Slowly, he began to thrust in and out of me. This angle felt amazing, and I felt like I was about to come already. “I want you to tell me you want this,” he demanded in an urgent voice, as he began to increase his pace. “I want it,” I panted, barely able to string together a fully coherent sentence. “No, try again,” he urged, gripping my sides even harder. He was speaking to me in such a domineering way, I felt he could make me come just by his voice alone. It was what piqued my interest, after all, when he’d spoken to me in his low voice back at the bar. “I want it, Boss,” I moaned. He began to thrust harder. Our ruin didn’t take long after that. Soon, he pulled out of me and spilled his entire load on my back. We came at the same exact time. “God, that was amazing,” I panted, still trying to catch my breath.

“That’s it, little sister,” he rasped against my ear, voice low and dangerous. “Soak your stepbrother’s fingers like the dirty, naughty girl you are.” Two thick fingers plunged deep into my dripping core without warning, stretching me, claiming me, pumping hard and fast. I whimpered, biting down on his shoulder to stifle the moan that threatened to betray us. “Be a good girl and stay silent…” he rumbled low in my ear, “or everyone in this library will know exactly how desperate you are to be fucked by me.” ~~~~ One reckless, drunken night. One masked stranger who set her body on fire with sin and secrets. No names. Just raw heat, tangled limbs, and forbidden pleasure. The next morning, still throbbing from the memory, Miyara walks into class only to freeze. The man commanding the lecture hall is no stranger. He’s Caden Cross, her stepbrother. The one who vanished six years ago, leaving her with a childhood crush she never quite buried. Her one-night stand. Now he’s back. Older. Darker. Her professor. The stepbrother she once ached for has returned with one purpose: to take her, ruin her, and break her completely, until she’s nothing but his. As buried secrets surface and outsiders conspire to tear them apart, Miyara must decide: fight the pull of the forbidden… or surrender to the man who’s always owned her heart and now wants every filthy, shattered piece of her. Will they burn together in the ashes of their taboo desire, consequences be damned? Or will the world force them apart before she can beg for more? ️ Warning: This story contains explicit sex scenes, stalking, non-con/dub-con acts, coercion and manipulation. Kindly proceed with caution

[ NOW ONGOING. ] ‘I can’t wait to make you mine, Lorelei.’ I read the text with a naughty smile. That’s Leo. The man I fell in love with via chat. I thought it was dumb to love someone you’ve never met, but look at me now. ‘I can’t wait for you to rip off my underwear.’ I texted and sent. Shivers ran down my spine while waiting for his response. Sexting through casual texts has become a thing I enjoy with him now. I bit my lips as I stared at our chat, anticipating. Just then, someone barged into my room. I put my phone down like I was doing something wrong. It was my mother. She has a worried look on her face. My father and stepmother walked in holding an envelope. I stared at them confused. “Pack your things and leave. You will get married on Thursday.” My father said cruelly. My brows creased and I tried to object but he held out the papers. “You don’t have a say in this Lorelei. I already sold you out.” What is he talking about? How can he arrange my own wedding? I knew I wasn’t my father’s favourite child, but this is next level hate. “Go and live with your husband. He bought you. And darling, there’s no turning back.” My stepmom added with a smile and threw the document on my bed. I picked it up and read the first page. ‘This contract seals the marriage between Ace Salvatore and Lorelei Stanley.’ Ace Salvatore? The man rumoured to be the devil himself.... My phone made a gentle ding and I looked at it. It was Leo. Tears cascaded my eyelids. How can I marry someone when I’m in love withsomeoneelse?

After divorcing my cheating husband, I took my son and moved back to my mother's house. The moment we returned, my mother began to dote on my son without restraint. She would even gossip to the neighbors, saying, "Can you believe that deadweight actually gave birth to a son? Why does she get to? A disgrace who got kicked out by her husband has no right to be a boy's mother!" I knew my son could not grow up in an environment like that, so I made a firm decision to move out and raise him on my own. Years later, he graduated from college and found a job—nothing high-paying, but stable. Given the state of things, I was genuinely happy for him. He suggested going back to have a meal with his grandmother to celebrate. I never expected the two of them to join hands and poison me. As my consciousness faded, I heard their conversation. "I told you. She can't stand seeing you do well. She's elated after hearing you only make a few thousand a month!" "It's fine, Grandma. A feminazi like my mom had it coming. I've always known who's truly been good to me. From now on, I'll only take care of you." My heart turned cold. I had pushed him to study, supported him through college, and taught him to treat others with equality and respect. And this was how he repaid me. But when I opened my eyes again, I found myself back at the moment I had just returned to my mother's house with my son. 'If you're so determined to raise him your way, then fine. You can have him all to yourself. Let's see what kind of man a pick-me grandmother like you will raise.'

She left cash on his pillow. He's been hunting her for eighteen years. Now they're neighbors—and she's carrying his baby. Evelyn Hart's revenge plan was simple: hire the hottest escort money could buy, have one night of mind-blowing sex, and finally forget her cheating ex-husband exists. What she got instead: Sebastian Creed. Six-foot-four of sinful perfection who made her body sing in ways she didn't know were possible. She left ten thousand dollars on the bed and ran before dawn, convinced she'd never see him again. Six weeks later, reality hits like a freight train. The "escort" is actually a billionaire. He owns the mansion next door. He's been obsessively searching for her since the night he saved her from a car crash when she was fourteen. Oh, and she's pregnant with twins the doctors said she could never have. Sebastian isn't just her neighbor—he's her stalker, her savior, and apparently, her fated mate. Because plot twist: he's a werewolf. And the supernatural bond between them is turning her inconvenient attraction into a soul-deep craving that's impossible to fight. Now he's breaking into her house at 3 a.m., showing up uninvited to her OB appointments, and making it very clear that the one night she paid for was just the beginning of forever. But their twisted love story is about to get deadlier. Sebastian's dying father wants him to claim a werewolf throne. His ex-husband wants her land for a billion-dollar deal. Werewolf royalty wants her dead for contaminating the bloodline. And Evelyn? She just wants to survive pregnancy, figure out how to be a queen in a world that thinks she's prey, and maybe—maybe—learn to trust the alpha who's been obsessed with her since she was a teenager.

Deck the halls with daddy issues and scream "yes, Santa" until the neighbors complain. She sold herself to save her mother. He bought her to settle a score. Neither expected twelve days of captivity to feel like coming home. Ten years ago, Evangeline Rose fled Willow Creek and the cruel boy who made her life hell. Now she’s back with a new name, a new body, and one desperate choice: enter the town’s secret Christmas auction where wealthy men bid on willing women. When the hammer falls at five hundred thousand dollars, Eva expects a stranger. Instead, she gets Grayson Holt—her former tormentor, now a devastatingly dangerous man in a half-open Santa jacket who just bought twelve uninterrupted nights with the virgin he once swore no one would ever want. She should be terrified. He's the reason she hid in bathroom stalls and cried herself to sleep. But the first time he kisses her, his hands shake. The first time she fights back, he groans her name like a prayer. And somewhere between the firelight and the snow and the silk ribbons around her wrists, they both realize the ugly truth: He didn't buy her to break her. He bought her because he's been broken without her. The boy who spray-painted "fat ugly bitch" on her locker is the same man who falls to his knees in the snow on the last morning and begs her not to leave. The girl who swore she'd never forgive him is the same woman who has to choose: walk away free, or stay with the monster who finally admitted he's been in love with her since the day he made her cry. Eva spent a decade learning to hate Grayson Holt. Turns out she's been loving him the whole damn time.

As the price of gold soars, my late mother, Eleanor Hutchinson, appears to me in my dream. She tells me she has left a gold bangle on my nightstand. If I wear them, they'll bring me wealth and bless the child I'm carrying. But after I find the bangle, I give it to the rabid dog the neighbors keep locked up. In my previous life, my younger sister, Irene Owens, and I marry two brothers and become pregnant at the same time. During a prenatal checkup, the doctor says Irene's baby appears to have severe birth defects and recommends terminating the pregnancy. She doesn't take it seriously at all. That very day, Mom comes to me in my dream, and I find the gold bangle on my bedside table. After I tell Irene about it, she slips the bangle onto my wrists. She says, "You always say Mom favors me. But after she dies, you're the first person she thinks of and approaches. Just wear them." I do exactly as she says and never take the bangle off. But on the day we give birth, Irene delivers a healthy baby boy with rosy cheeks and a loud, vigorous cry. My baby, however, is born with two sets of reproductive organs. The child isn't breathing the moment it's delivered. Before this, every prenatal exam has shown that my baby is healthy. I realize Irene and the bangle must have something to do with it. The sight of my horribly deformed baby drives me insane. In a fit of rage, I dig up Mom's grave and confront Irene. "Why does Mom keep paving the way for you even after she's dead?" She has me committed to a psychiatric hospital. I waste away in despair until I die. When I open my eyes again, I'm back on the day Mom first appears in my dream.

One night, my family sat together watching the New Year’s Eve Live on television. My little sister, Stella Larson, said she had to pee and hurried to the washroom. Half an hour later, she still had not returned. When I went to check on her, the washroom was empty. “When did Stella leave the washroom?” I asked my parents. Both of them were stunned for a moment before feeling my forehead and saying, “What are you talking about? You’re an only child. Who is Stella?” They forcibly pulled me back to my seat. My mind went blank. Did the three of them just pull a prank on me? After finishing his drink, my father clutched his stomach and rushed into the washroom. I stared fixedly at the washroom door. A long time passed, but no one came out. My father had vanished, too. My hand trembled as I pointed at the bathroom. My mother stepped forward to go in. “Don’t go in! Dad and Luna disappeared in there!” My mother looked grief-stricken as she said, “Sweetie, it’s been just the two of us for the past twenty-plus years, remember?” Her words hit me hard. I was in total disbelief. I explained myself frantically, but the more I spoke, the more confused my mother became. She finally shook me off and said, “Why are you doing this to me? I’ve raised you your whole life! Why do you have to ruin New Year’s Eve?” She walked straight into the washroom, and the house soon fell into a dead silence. Terrified, I called my best friend, Kathy Scott, who lived nearby. I rambled incoherently as I begged her for help. But her words utterly crushed me. “What family members? You’re an orphan.” I hung up the phone, rushed out, and pounded frantically on the neighbors’ door.

When I saw my best friend tending to the elderly man upstairs with such diligence in washing his clothes, cooking his meals, feeding him medicine, and giving him massages, I immediately knew that she had been reborn, too. In my previous life, my best friend and I shared an apartment. We were often awakened in the middle of the night by the old man’s cough from upstairs. When I went up to check on him, I learned that his legs were paralyzed, and he had no children or family. Out of sympathy, I decided to care for him. I brought him his daily meals and gave him massages. A month later, out of the blue, the old man mysteriously handed me a bank card and said, “There’s eight million here. It’s my reward to you.” With that money, I immediately went and paid off my father’s medical bills. Later, the old man went even further and transferred the ownership of the apartment that we were renting to me. He told me, “When your father is discharged, move in together. That way, I’ll have someone to keep me company, too!” When my best friend learned of this, however, she went ballistic. During the few days I was having trouble sleeping, she had secretly spiked my water with a lethal dose of sleeping pills. She watched as I died in agony. After my death, my boyfriend, posing as my fiancé, cut off my father’s medical bills and took away the old man’s bank card. Meanwhile, my best friend spread slanderous rumors among the neighbors, claiming the old man gave me money because I had sold myself to him. Half a year later, the two got married and paid in full for a luxury apartment in the city centre. When I opened my eyes again, I was back on that very day when the old man upstairs was coughing uncontrollably.

Hunter’s thumb traces my lower lip, his molten golden eyes burning into mine. He growls roughly. “Do you want all three of us to fuck you tonight, little mate?” I stare up at them, my cheeks burn with embarrassment as fresh slick floods my pussy. Desire burns so hot I can barely think straight. I’m so wet it’s shameful. I feel like such a naughty, desperate girl. “…Yes. Please… Alphas.” All three of them let out deep growls, their eyes flashing gold. “Good little mate,” Zane rasps. “Then we’re going to ruin every tight little hole until you’re screaming our names and dripping with our cum.” Seth yanks my t-shirt up roughly, exposing my bare tits to their hungry gazes. **** Two years ago, when Dad got stripped of his Alpha title for breaking pack law, we were exiled to a crappy apartment on the wrong side of town. I thought my life sucked before, but this was a whole new level of hell. At academy, I'm the girl everyone avoids. Bad luck follows me everywhere, or so they think. Perfect target for bullies, especially my stepsister Cessy. She's everything I'm not — head cheerleader, gorgeous, popular. While she's the golden child at home and school, I'm her personal 'unpaid' assistant. Then everything changed on my eighteenth birthday. I found my mates. Not just one, but three. The Blackwood Trio: Hunter, Seth, and Zane. Hockey gods, gorgeous Alphas, the most wanted guys at school. Every girl dreams about them, every guy wants to be them. And somehow, impossibly, they're mine. Of course, nothing's ever simple in my life. Three mates means three times the drama, three times the possessiveness… and way more filthy, overwhelming heat than my innocent body knows how to handle.