Novella Collection Novels & Stories

He groaned and left the room. “How do you have so much money?” Noa asked as she and Tristan lay entwined together, naked. She fondled the cap of his half relaxed dick. They had just made out and we're catching their breaths. Tristan's eyes were closed but he was awake. “I created an app a few years back, it blew up on the internet two years ago and… yeah” “An app that blew up two years ago… uhmm… vidchat!” She snapped her fingers in the air and Tristan nodded proudly.

Yardley Novellas: A Season in Hell by Kenneth W. Cain Quiet Places: A Novella of Cosmic Folk Horror by Jasper Bark The Final Reconciliation by Todd Keisling Run to Ground by Jasper Bark Devourer of Souls by Kevin Lucia Apocalyptic Montessa and Nuclear Lulu: A Tale of Atomic Love by Mercedes M. Yardley Wind Chill by Patrick Rutigliano Little Dead Red by Mercedes M. Yardley Sleeper(s) by Paul Kane Stuck On You by Jasper Bark Anthologies:

For the first time, Cathedra had someone who didn't cringe every time she opened her mouth to speak. So this is what having a friend feels like, huh? Cathedra thought to herself. One lunch break, while waiting for Diane underneath the tree, Cathedra was scribbling a draft of her first novel in her notebook. The novel contained the scenes she saw in the storybook, back in her kindergarten days. Since that day at kindergarten, she didn't tell anyone what she saw in the storybooks anymore. The thought of seeing things that other people couldn't still terrified her but she tried hard not to think about it by avoiding any book she can see other than school books and textbooks.

BEFORE YOU READ Nobody is coming to save you. Themes: Forced Proximity, Snowed In, Size Difference, Breeding Kink. This story features a possessive, reclusive hero who hasn't seen a woman in years. Expect primal play, rough sex, and intense possessiveness. (***) Gabrielle

"Oh no, nothing like that. I just wanted to...drop these off." The files landed heavily on his desk. His eyebrow shot up questioningly. "What are they?" My throat felt clogged as he reached for a cup of coffee, taking a small sip. As he set it back down, I reached for the files, my wrist hitting the ceramic mug and sending it crashing down. Thankfully it didn't break as it hit the hardwood floor, but the hot coffee still spilled. I winced as a few drops of it splashed onto my skin before bending down to pick up the mug.

His light stayed on for a long time before it finally went out. The next evening her roommate left for a late shift. The apartment had fallen quiet again. Lila made tea she didn’t drink and kept glancing at the clock. At 9:07 her phone buzzed. Roman: Door’s unlocked. She didn’t bother with shoes this time either. She crossed the hall, turned the handle, and stepped inside. Roman was on the couch, jeans on, no shirt. He looked up when she entered. “Close it.” She did. “Come here.”

When I was done, I headed for my office, shutting the door behind me. Walking to my desk, my hands shook as I pulled the bottom drawer open. In it, several worn paperbacks of my secret stash were laid out. With titles like- CLAIMED BY THE PACK, BRED BY THE BEAST AND TAKEN WITHOUT MERCY. I grabbed Taken Without Mercy, the cover showcasing a naked curvy woman with a fucked out pussy, big tits and two guys by her side with huge mighty cocks. I slid onto my chair, the urge to resist failing me. It's being months and I told myself I'd stop, but the ache in me needed to be satisfied.

And now, I'm going to collect what I'm owed. *A shudder wracks her body as his tongue traces the column of her throat, leaving a trail of fire in its wake. Her hands come up to clutch at his shoulders, unsure whether to push him away or pull him closer. The revelation of her grandmother's betrayal cuts deep, even as a dark, shameful part of her thrills at being wanted so thoroughly, so completely.* Collect what you're owed? *she breathes, voice husky and thick with confused emotion.* And what exactly do you think you're owed, Mikhail? My obedience? My body? My very self?

None of them ever filled me so full that I had to walk carefully for the rest of the night to keep from dripping onto the carpet. I am not proud of how much I still miss it. But I am honest about it. Some nights when the building is empty I still go to the copy room. I lock the door. I rest my hands on the machine. And I touch myself while I remember. I come quietly, biting my lip, and then I clean up and go home like nothing happened. Once, six months after he left, I received a package at the office with no return address. Inside was a single black lace thong and a note in Nathan’s handwriting.

But no one knows about the other side of me. At night, when the house is quiet, I hide under my covers with my phone and read the kind of stories that would make my mother faint. Dark. Filthy. Full of dominant men who take what they want. Girls who beg for it. Degradation that makes my thighs press together and my heart race. I touch myself to those stories, whispering things I would never say out loud, and then feel crushing guilt the next morning. I’m supposed to be pure. Innocent. The perfect daughter.