Page To Screen Novels & Stories

Grandpa will be announcing his will at his birthday banquet. Apparently, I only possess the right to inherit the family's assets if I'm in a stable relationship with someone. I beg my girlfriend, Hannah Samson, countless times to have our relationship publicized. But she keeps using her overtime shift as an excuse. Today, she finally yields to me. "Alright. You should attend the family meeting first. I'll be there soon." The moment I step into the manor on my own, I hear my relatives' mocking laughter surrounding me. "You keep claiming that you're busy with your career every day. To think that you can't even bring your own girlfriend to this meeting! You do realize that your inheritance right depends on your partner, right? "Don't tell me you lied to us about having a girlfriend!" I clutch my phone tightly, feeling my palm going clammy with sweat. Time slowly ticks past. Just as Grandpa is about to read his will out loud, someone pushes the front door open abruptly. I turn around in delight, only for my smile to freeze on my face. Isaac Letterman, the fake heir, smiles wanly at everyone, his hand still laced with Hannah's. "Sorry, we're late." As I stare at the duo, I feel my heart plunging into an icy abyss. Then, I turn back to look at the relatives, who were mocking me earlier. "You said you wanted to see my girlfriend, right? That's her right there."

After the night of the full moon, my daughter - Lily was declared lost to the Rampage—her mind shattered, her wolf consumed by madness. Pack law is clear: when a wolf-blood is deemed uncontrollable, their guardian must sign the Blood Pact. The moment the pact takes effect, their body belongs to the pack. My Alpha husband, Liam Blackwood, urged me to sign. He said it was an honor to serve the pack. He said our daughter would have wanted to save other pups. Holding our daughter's broken, wasted body, I wept until I had nothing left. But that night, at the end of the corridor, I heard her voice. Elena Vance. The pack's youngest Shaman Healer. And the woman Liam had loved before me—the one who got away. "Lily's marrow is a perfect match." "Once Sophie signs the Blood Pact, I can harvest the marrow and brew the antidote. It will save your daughter. Our daughter." Later, Elena's daughter walked out of that treatment center, healthy and whole. My daughter walked out in an urn. I stormed the Alpha Mansion to demand the truth. But before I could speak, Dark Magic ripped through my veins. My wolf surfaced against my will—violent, uncontrollable. The pack guards tore me apart. My last sight was Liam shielding Elena and her daughter from the bloodshed. "Don't look," he murmured, covering their eyes. "You'll have nightmares." I died clutching the wolf fang necklace my daughter left behind—burning with hatred, drowning in regret. Then I opened my eyes. I was back in the treatment center. Back in that sterile white room. Back before I signed my daughter's life away. I turned to the bed where my little girl thrashed against iron chains. This time, I swore it: They will pay. In blood.

I was not the true heiress of my family. When the biological daughter finally turned up, she was rail-thin and sunken-eyed. My parents felt so guilty that they immediately offered her a compensation package. She said, “I’m your actual daughter. If you’re going to compensate me, then give me the company.” Everyone tried to persuade me. “You’re not the biological daughter after all. It’s time to give her back her place.” I smiled and handed everything over without a fight. The very next day, our major clients, our core tech team, and all our distribution partners announced that they would only work with me. My parents panicked and hurried over to beg me. I folded my arms. “Go ask your biological daughter to come and beg for my help herself.”

The day I went to try on my wedding suit, a stranger stormed into the VIP fitting room and drove a knife into my gut. "Sleeping with my woman, and you dare wear a suit this expensive?" He ripped my shirt into ribbons with a wild grin and threw sulfuric acid straight at me. The knife was buried deep in my abdomen. Pain ripped through me as I collapsed. He yanked my hair, forcing my head up. "Susan Lefebvre is my wife. What the hell are you? Just some filthy side piece hiding in the shadows!" Blood dripped from my fingertips as the truth sank in. The fiancée I'd loved for seven years had been cheating on me all along. "What are you staring at?" He sneered. "Even if I kill you, no one can touch me. My wife runs this city!" Watching that arrogant face twist in triumph, I took out my phone with a trembling, blood-soaked hand and dialed my sister. "Allison," I said, my voice cold and calm. "Come pick me up at the bridal salon. And tell the Lefebvres that the engagement is off."

When my younger sister, Paige Nielson, was three months pregnant, she was struck by a car, killing her and her unborn baby on the spot. My CEO wife, Christina Ashmore, vowed vengeance on the driver; that he shall pay the price with his own life. But when she found out that the accused is actually Roland Burstyn, her first love who had disappeared for the past seven years, she decided to sign the letter of forgiveness on my behalf. Afraid that I might secretly sue Roland once again, Christina had me admitted into a psychiatric hospital. Throughout the next three years, I had six ribs broken by others, not to mention I lost an eye as well. When the psychiatric hospital is found to not have all legal credentials that can keep it running, I'm finally released from its confines. When Christina and I meet again, she pats me off-handedly on the shoulder. "I'm only able to reunite with Roland after so long, so I can't handle the pain of losing him again. Anyway, I already bought Paige the best graveyard plot one can afford. Roland doesn't owe you anything now. As long as you don't target him, I can keep supporting you financially." I don't respond to Christina at all. Instead, I text my dad, whom I've cut ties with for a decade. "I can forgive you, but it comes with a condition. You need to avenge me."

I spent five years chasing Tyler Watson, only to get kidnapped right in front of him. He just stood there and watched. As a result, I suffered. After I escaped, he acted all high and mighty and proposed to make up for his tiny bit of guilt. The second we got our marriage certificate, the Simp System’s voice rang in my head. “Congrats, host! You’ve completed your mission.” Just like that, my sanity finally returned. While Tyler waited in a hotel for me to bring him contraceptives, I went live to expose his cheating. For good measure, I even called the anti-vice office to report my dear husband for soliciting prostitutes.

My sister, Fiona Miller, has recently opened a luxury spa for business. As such, I bring Dad along to check it out. Of course, we pick the most expensive treatment package available. But barely a few presses from the male therapist, and Dad feels a sharp pain in his chest and can't seem to breathe properly. All the color drains from his face, and cold sweat starts beading on his forehead. I call the manager over, but he seems annoyed. "Oh, he just has poor blood circulation. He'll be fine after the massage. That's just a normal reaction." I can't believe what I'm hearing. "My father has a heart condition. What are you lot even doing to him?" The manager, Seth Zeller, explodes as if I've insulted him and raises his voice. "That's his own pre-existing condition. How is that our problem? We run a legitimate business here. No refunds once treatment begins. Got it?" I gesture at the credentials displayed on the wall. "I don't see your name anywhere up there. You're not even certified. Is this the kind of operation Fiona's running?" Seth folds his arms across his chest, looking down his nose at us. "I'm the boss here. You and your dad look broke as hell. I can tell you're just trying to get a free massage and walk out without paying." "Let me spell it out for you. This package is 38,000 dollars. Adding in the cost of my emotional distress and lost time, the total is 100,000 dollars. Pay up now, or I'm having you both arrested." A massage that almost kills Dad costs 100,000 dollars? So that's why Fiona was suddenly so eager to open this spa. As it turns out, she and her boyfriend are running a fraud scheme. I reach for my phone to call her, but Seth is already making a video call. "Babe, you need to get here right now. A couple of deadbeats are trying to get a free massage and walk away without paying."

WARNING: HEAVY SMUT AHEAD!!! Mature audiences only! Proceed with caution! ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ “Please,” she whispered, desperation cracking her voice. “Please, Chase.”   “Begging already?” His voice was cruel, his fingers circling faster, pushing her to the edge. “I'm not even nearly done with you yet.”   She squeezed her eyes shut, the recruit’s muffled cries and the whip’s crack filling her ears, amplifying her need. Chase’s fingers were relentless, stroking her clit, and dipping inside just enough to tease.   “Please,” she whimpered, louder now, her hands gripping his shoulders. “I’m sorry. I won’t lie again. I’ll be good. Please, let me cum.”   He chuckled, his lips brushing her neck. “Not yet, baby. Fight it.”   Her body screamed, every nerve on fire, the recruit’s struggles mirroring her own. The girl’s master groaned, close to release, as Lila’s whip landed again and again on her ass.   Emma’s head felt like it was about to explode under the pressure, her thighs shook with the effort to conceal it, her pleas spilling out. “Please, Chase, I can’t hold it any longer… I need it."   "Don't. You. Dare. Come." ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ Picture this: A CEO pinning his partner's daughter over his desk, whispering rules that chain her soul while his cock claims her body. Or a werewolf's claws raking skin in the moonlit woods, rutting her senseless till she's howling his name. We mix it up... sweet, slow-burn romances that melt into tender fucks and whispered "I love yous," flipping to the dark side with BDSM bites, non-con edges that blur fear into filthy want, and horror vibes where ghosts fuck you cold then hot. Your panties? Ruined. Your cravings? Fed. And yet, you'll still be here begging for more. Dive in if you're brave enough.

"You wanna gеt fuckеd likе a good girl?” I askеd, voicе low. Shе smilеd. “I’m not a good girl.” I growlеd. “No. You’rе not.” Shе gaspеd as I slammеd into hеr in onе thrust, burying mysеlf all thе way. “Damian—!” I covеrеd hеr mouth with my hand. “Bе quiеt,” I hissеd in hеr еar. “You don’t want Mommy to hеar, do you?” Hеr еyеs widеnеd. I pullеd out slow—thеn slammеd back in hard. Shе moanеd against my hand. “God, you’rе so tight,” I groanеd. “You wеrе madе for this cock.” Hеr lеgs wrappеd around mе, pulling mе dееpеr. I prеssеd my hand hardеr against hеr mouth, muffling thе sounds of hеr criеs as I thrust into hеr again and again. Thе bеd crеakеd. Hеr body shook. “Thought I wouldn’t find out you wеrе a littlе slut for mе,” I growlеd. “Kissing mе. Riding my facе. Acting so damn innocеnt.” *** Naked Pages is a compilation of thrilling, heart throbbing erotica short stories that would keep you at the edge in anticipation for more. It's loaded with forbidden romance, domineering men, naughty and sex female leads that leaves you aching for release. From forbidden trysts to irresistible strangers. Every one holds desires, buried deep in the hearts to be treated like a slave or be called daddy! And in this collection, all your nasty fantasies would be unraveled. It would be an escape to the 9th heavens while you beg and plead for more like a good girl. This erotica compilation is overflowing with scandalous scenes ! It's intended only for adults over the age of 18! And all characters are over the age of 18.

I am in such a rush to pick up my daughter, Ava Pennington, from school that I don't have time to change out of my work attire. At the kindergarten gates, I run into the mother of one of her classmates, Candice Austin. She sizes me up from head to toe and says, "You must be Ava Pennington's mom." I politely nod. Just as I am about to say hello, her expression suddenly sours. "It's no wonder your daughter dresses so skimpily at school. The apple doesn't fall far from the tree, does it?" I am so mad that I nearly forgot to respond. "What nonsense are you talking about?" Candice clicks her tongue and grows even more aggressive. "Nonsense? Your daughter wears skirts to school every day. She's distracting my son so much that his grades have slipped." Her words leave me utterly speechless. How is her son's failing grades somehow Ava's fault? When I don't respond, she gets bolder. "Look at you dressed from head to toe in cheap junk; how can you afford to send your daughter to this elite kindergarten? You must have pulled some shady strings to sneak her in through the back door, didn't you?" Has she lost her mind? Since when does Ava need strings to attend the school I built?