No Im Dirty Dan Novels & Stories

This is a seductive book with a lot of mixed up, wild and taboo smut stories. All stories here are a product of my imagination.

EROTIC🔞🔞🔞18+ Who says a step brother and step sister can't be besties both in the open and... in the secret? It wasn't like that at the beginning until the unexpected took place between Tara and her hot step brother, Dennis. On their first night alone, with their parents out of town to celebrate their honeymoon, Tara accidentally caught Dennis masturbating in his room. She's kicked out at first, but curiously returns to see if he's playing with his dick the second time. Her plan backfires when she's caught by Dennis, who pulls Tara into his room and makes her kneel before his cock, tempting her to have a taste of it. She wants to resist. She knows this isn't right. But what happens next when Dennis takes control and slips his cock into Tara's dripping mouth?

Aurelia had always hated the Thorne twins, and it was no secret. She hated the way they looked like she mattered only to pull the step siblings card… she hated the way they always had their stupid signature smirk on their faces whenever they pulled her leg… hated the way they knew how to pull the right strings to get her and most importantly hated the way, they acted like they weren’t watching that day, watching her as she climaxed alongside them. So no, she definitely didn’t watch them when they weren't looking and absolutely didn’t care who they were smiling at when it wasn’t her. Their friendly step- siblings rivalry had ended on her send off party and 20 year old birthday when she had confronted them and ended up in their bed… only to wake up to their leaked tape. They however did nothing but watch as her dignity was rubbed all over the ground. Five years later, she had moved on and built a perfect life with her 4 year old baby girl and her best friend from back home. Life was perfect until his proposal was interrupted by the Thorne brothers while she was on their cruise ship sailing to the city of her dreams to her dream vacation. It all happened in the blink of an eye and she had woken up to see that their ship was floating in the horizon, leaving them on an abandoned island with nothing but their clothes. Old hatreds ignite. Old secrets surface. And this time the twins aren’t just watching in secret like they had all these years. They’re here to finish what they started… this time they have no plan to let her GO…

In the dark circles of the elite world, he is one of the Saints—most gorgeous, wealthiest, sexiest legacies of old money familias. Objectified and revered, they can do nothing wrong. In truth, Giancarlo Verrazzano came dangerously close to perdition before earning his title. He now lives a life forged out of this past, whilst staying away from its clutches. Then a young daughter of a family friend is sent to him to mentor before their families present her to society as the Von Schiller heiress. Elise is grown up, desirable and exquisite—it’s torment not to touch her. Everyday, he tries to protect her from himself. But when danger stalks her steps, sexual crimes of a serial killer persist and another Saint fixates on her, he gives in to his desires so he can publicly own her. He will do anything to shield her from the shadows that targets her as a result of his teenage obsession with her beautiful mother. Elise dreads the day she must face the world as a Von Schiller and she clings to the man whose blanket of protection has always kept her safe. If only she doesn’t want him, he wouldn’t drive her nuts! The nasty rumors about a dead ex should have repelled her, but Gian can never scare her. So when she finds out she resembles this ex and a sex club exist in her memory, she has to step back and see with unbiased eyes what kind of man truly lurks behind his beautiful mask.

Years after graduation, someone suddenly tags me in the class group chat. "Mr. Warren is gravely ill, Mira. Aren't you going to do anything? You really are heartless!" I only realize what's going on when I click on the fundraising link in the chat. Our high school homeroom teacher, Joseph Warren, has late-stage cancer. Thus, Lyra Fairfield, the class belle, is leading a fundraiser and patient-donor matching process. "I'll donate ten thousand dollars. My husband is the director of Waverly General Hospital, and I've already asked him to arrange a VIP ward for Mr. Warren." Right after I send that message, the group pounces on me. "Mira, you contracted an STD back then and tried to pin it on Lyra. She didn't even hold it against you, and now you're trying to steal her thunder? You're unbelievable!" "I can't believe you're still lying through your teeth during such a serious situation. You never change, do you?" Lyra immediately defuses the tension. "Mira, I don't blame you for what happened in the past, but you really shouldn't impersonate the director's wife. I've already arranged the ward and surgery, and I'm donating another 100 thousand dollars to Mr. Warren!" I'm this close to laughing out of sheer anger. She's the one who scratched her name off the diagnosis report and framed me for having an STD all those years ago. I never even confronted her about it, and now she's playing the victim? Lyra soon posts a photo in the group chat, showing off her husband's car. Yet, when I see the man in the passenger seat, I guffaw. Isn't that my husband's driver? When did he start running a hospital?

Some rules are meant to keep us pure. These stories spread your legs and make you beg to break them. Stepbrothers who shouldn’t touch you, but shove you against the wall and make you scream their name. Protectors who swear to guard your body, only to break every oath as they fuck you into the mattress. Strangers who taste like sin and don’t stop until you’re ruined. Masked lovers who hide their faces while they spread you open and make you beg. Even supernatural beasts who mark you, breed you, and take you raw until you’re theirs completely. This isn’t sweet romance. It is raw heat that claws, bites, and devours. Dangerous, possessive men you should run from, but instead, you’ll spread wider, sink deeper, and take every filthy drop they give you. Every page is a dare: moan louder, take more, surrender deeper. Because once you give in to the forbidden, you won’t just fall, you’ll beg to be destroyed. Welcome to your new addiction.

I chase my six-year-old daughter out of the house on a cold winter day. I cut her new clothes to pieces and dirty her dainty little face with mud. Then, I give her all my savings. She looks at me tearfully and reaches out for me, wanting me to hold her. However, I harden my heart and push her away, saying, "Leave! Go to Bowen Group and look for their CEO, Logan Bowen. Show him my death certificate and your DNA test—he'll take you in." She sobs while looking at me. "Don't you want me anymore, Mommy? Let's go look for Daddy together." After a brief silence, I say, "I can't go with you. I lied to him back then to have you." Yes, I'm a liar. I orchestrated everything from meeting Logan, dating him, to ultimately leaving him with his child in my womb. Even the death certificate I've given my daughter is fake. From beginning to end, I've lied to him about everything except our daughter.

On the eve of my wedding, my fiance's first love, Sasha Green, ruined my custom-made wedding dress worth a fortune. The gown split open down the back. I had to crouch down and clutched my chest with both hands to keep myself from being exposed. She stood there holding a pair of scissors, looking at me with an innocent expression. "Anthea, I'm really sorry. I used a little bit too much force, and I accidentally ruined your dress. Please don't blame me." My fiance, Gary Dome, immediately went up to her and took the scissors from her hand. His voice was full of concern for her. "Why would she blame you? You were just trying to help trim some loose threads. If anything, it's her fault for being too fat, stretching the dress until it tore." Still crouching on the floor, I watched the two of them behave intimately. My gaze turned cold. The dress was ruined, and so was my dream. It was time to wake up.

Despite a decade of marriage, Simon never once shared my bed, claiming that he had pledged himself to ascetic practices and that it was beneath him. I thought that he suffered from some shameful ailment and guarded his secret like a devoted fool, until my birthday, when I came home to find him entangled with a brothel worker before the floor-length mirror. When I lunged forward in rage, he drove a shard of that broken mirror straight through my heart. When I awoke, I was gripping my phone, its screen illuminating a message Simon had just sent: [I’ll still give you a lavish wedding, but the marriage certificate? That belongs to her.]

Two years after we marry, my husband moves his sister and her family into our marital home. The four of them settle down and refuse to leave. So, I quit both my jobs. I laze around at home all day and splurge on various things. I have so many parcels delivered that they pile up by the door. Occasionally, I ask my husband and his sister for allowance. When the management office sends someone to chase for our maintenance fee, my husband breaks down so loudly that everyone in the building can hear him. He asks me whether I've lost my mind—who will support the family if I don't work? How will we survive without money? Am I going to allow our family to starve? So, it turns out he does know that we'll starve without anyone generating income. Why does he and his sister stay at home and plot to take away all my money, then?