Paint In Bathroom Bubbling Novels & Stories

WARNING: THIS BOOK CONTAINS RAW MATURE CONTENT. I watched him kill three men without breaking a sweat. Now I'm trapped on an island with him. My crime? Walking two blocks alone in New York City. My punishment? Zade Konstantin—a killer with silver eyes who looks at me like I'm both precious and prey. My father's enemies want me. Not dead. Alive. To torture, break, and send back in pieces. I've seen the photographs of what they do to mafia daughters. The images haunt my nightmares. So now I'm hidden away on a Greek island with the most dangerous man I've ever met. He's supposed to protect me. Keep me safe. Maintain professional distance. Except the way he watches me isn't professional. The way his hands shake when he touches me during training? That's not distant. The way he groans my name through the bathroom door when he thinks I can't hear? That's definitely not just a job. I should hate him. He stalked me for weeks. Put a bag over my head. Drugged me. Made every decision about my life without asking. What starts as hate becomes hunger. Forbidden touches in the moonlight. His mouth on my skin. My body surrendering to desires I didn't know I had. He's teaching me that good girls can want dark things. That cages lined with passion are still cages. That falling for your captor might be the most dangerous game of all. Until I realize the man inside me, the man I'm falling for, has been my betrayal from the very beginning. Some men protect you. Some men destroy you. Zade Konstantin does both.

BLURB “Mr Geal, we can't please.” her voice breaks as he trailed his fingers down jaw to her lips. Her breath comes out in gasps as she tightens her legs together, “Please, you are betrothed.” she murmured. His hands move to her neck where he tightens them whispering, “It doesn't matter,” he growls, his fingers finding their way beneath my skirt. “I am yours anyway.” He doesn't give her a second before his fingers sweep her panties aside, and find their way home. “Holy hell-” therest of the words is jumbled in her throat as he slams his lips against hers ~~~~~~ Olivia Macurry, a woman whose lifetime goal was to stop stripping. She wanted nomore than a white collar job where she wouldn't have to open her legs to get paid. After getting ordered by a man whopaid fifteen thousand dollars to have her for the night, she agreed but she didn't keep to the bargain. Now her new boss is the same blue eyed man that paid for a night with her, the same man she left when he was in the bathroom barely an hour after their first round. But it's too late because he wants her again. Just a taste, and he's addicted. He won't let her go, not even when he is buried six feet under. He can't stop, he must have her after all he paid for a night. Obsession turns into attraction. Attraction turns into possession. Possession turns into pure madness. He refuses to let her go yet he is betrothed to another. Secrets, lies, betrayal, and anger drives their relationship towards madness as everything is turned upside. But then Leonardo's best quality was that he thrived in chaos, and even though he is betrothed he belonged to her. Body, mind, and fucking soul.

“Elijah!” I sneered, slapping him right across the face; he seemed unaffected as he let out a smirk. “What do you think you're doing?!” I said. "Look at me closely, sweetie. I know how you feel about me. Every inch of you is my property; I own you, and if you'd think you're free from me, you're dead wrong" Elijah scoffed as he pinned me against the bathroom door. I yanked his grip off me before glaring at him, unaffected by his presence which once gave me butterflies. “Whatever you tried to do out there, don't test me. I can have you thrown back in jail if I wanted” He spat. “My life has got nothing to do with you!” I muttered. “Oh it's my business of course, so now you're sleeping with other men to get me jealous right?” he chuckled manacly. “You left me to die in jail, who I am with is none of your concern!” I yelled back. “I'm not afraid of you Elijah!” I responded nonchalantly. “Under which grounds? Last time I checked, you don't have the power to do that anymore.” Elijah's face turned red and he held my hand even tighter, gripping my cheeks until I could not move. “You don't scare me, Elijah” I said despite the quivering of my hands, “not anymore.” ***** Laura's world crashes down after she marries Elijah, her boss. His constant torments and treatment worsen after he reunites with his long lost lover. Their life takes a dark turn after Laura is thrown in jail for a crime she did not commit And later gives birth to twin babies in jail, who get taken away from her by his husband's mistress. Will she reunite with Elijah after everything he had done to her?

In the third year of my relationship with Dante Santoro, heir to the Santoro family fortune, I got pregnant. The night before the Don's birthday banquet, he finally brought me home as his girlfriend. Giulia Costa, the housekeeper's daughter, smiled sweetly and asked about my food allergies. I mentioned I was allergic to truffles. In the end, every dish at dinner was loaded with truffles. I swallowed my irritation and grabbed a slice of cake that looked safe. Two bites in, I heard her laugh. "I got creative and mixed truffle powder into the frosting. How is it?" Before I could answer, my throat closed up and I could not breathe. Giulia gasped and covered her mouth. "Ms. Leone, your skin is turning purple! Do you have some kind of contagious disease?" Everyone watched as I was carried out like trash. The moment my allergic reaction cleared up, Giulia insisted on helping me pack. I told her multiple times not to touch my ring. In the few minutes I spent in the bathroom, she "accidentally" knocked it down the drain. That was the wedding ring Dante gave me. I lost my temper and confronted her, but Dante just laughed it off. "She's jealous of your pretty ring. Don't be so petty." That night, Giulia brought sleep-aid drinks to my room as an apology. Dante convinced me to accept her peace offering. I drank a few cups and felt drowsy almost immediately. When Giulia walked me back to my room, I told her to lock the door behind her. Ten minutes later, a group of men shoved their way inside and beat my stomach until I miscarried. The baby was gone. Giulia's eyes filled with tears as she claimed she never saw anyone enter. She said I never wanted the Santoro family to have an heir and had orchestrated my own abortion. Dante went white with rage and ordered his men to dump me in the ocean. When I opened my eyes again, it was the night before the banquet.

I parted my lips to speak, when Lila cut in. "It's a sensitive topic, father. Can we eat now?" She requested. I sighed gratefully, watching his actions without showing that I was. He held a glass of wine, and raised it gracefully. I stifled a moan. Goddess, his actions alone were enough to arouse me. He took a sensual sip, and I looked away, feeling my nipples hardening. When last had I felt the life being fucked out of me. Ever since my last boyfriend, that was. I hadn't had good sex since then. ~~~ "If you'll excuse me please." My voice barely sounded like a whisper. Without waiting for another minute, I rushed away, towards my room. I placed my back against the door, breathing hard. I didn't need to check, I could feel my juices soaking through my painties. It was lucky none of them saw my hardened nipple peeking through my dress. Goddess knew why I hadn't worn a bra. I needed a release. The thought had hardly formed in my head, when I rushed towards the bathroom, shutting the door close. I got under the shower, and turned it on. Placing my left leg on the wall, I closed my eyes. I pictured Vincenzo tracing his hand over my shoulder and I shuddered. I pushed my head back, my finger moving farther down my leg. I rubbed gently on my folds through the material, and moaned softly. I was fucking aroused. **** After banishment from her pack, Ella seeks refuge in her friend’s pack. The last thing she ever thought would happen was to fall for her friend’s father and the pleasure he has to offer. Can she navigate the treacherous waters of forbidden love and still maintain her relationship with her best friend?

After transferring into an elite high school, I was bullied. However, it was not my classmates that bullied me; it was every object in the school. The private bathroom in my dorm only ran icy cold water when I showered, forcing me to trek to the public bathhouse in the dead of winter. When I begged the dorm supervisor, Mrs. Linda Mercer, to submit a repair request, she rolled her eyes and said, "The students who lived here last year never had this problem. Why is it suddenly broken when you move in?" My student ID card never worked in the library or the cafeteria. Every single time, it failed to scan, and I had to register manually. The multimedia equipment in the classroom froze whenever I touched it, dragging down the entire class schedule. I went to the teachers for help. They frowned and complained instead. "Everyone else can use it just fine. Why does it only malfunction when you do?" Even my deskmate rolled her eyes and mocked me. "You put on such a show every day. You are the only one who's so special. Are we supposed to stop studying just for you?" One strange incident after another completely isolated me at my new school. I cried and begged my parents to let me transfer again. They said, "The college entrance exam is right around the corner. Stop making trouble. Just endure it, and it will pass." I listened. I decided to grit my teeth and push through. Then, on the day of the college entrance exam, the security gate malfunctioned and started leaking electricity. Everyone else was fine. I was the only one who was electrocuted to death on the spot. Until the moment I died, I could not understand why the entire school seemed to be pushing me out. I was just a newly transferred student who had no grudges with anyone. When I opened my eyes again, I was back on the day I arrived to register at the new school.

When my best friend, Dulcie Quinn, and I went to Westhaven on vacation, my boyfriend, Shane Lewis, got me a lower berth in a soft-sleeper. Before I boarded, he pointed at the dark circles under his eyes. “I spent three days trying to snag you a lower berth so you’d be comfortable on the trip. “So no matter what, don’t give it up to anyone else. Not even Dulcie.” He looked so serious that I nodded and told him I understood. Sure enough, as soon as we boarded, Dulcie, who had the berth above mine, asked if we could switch. Remembering what Shane had told me, I shook my head and said no. I explained it to her too. I never expected something to go wrong that very night. When she climbed down to use the bathroom, she missed the handrail and fell. Clutching her stomach, she screamed, “My baby! My baby’s gone!” I did not even have time to ask when she had gotten pregnant. I rushed her off the train and took her to the nearest hospital. Late that night, Dulcie’s husband, Wallace Lambert, arrived at the hospital with Shane. By then, she had already undergone a D&C. The moment she saw me, she pointed at me and started cursing me out. “Do you have any idea how much I sacrificed for that baby?” Shane blamed me too. “I thought you were just joking when you said you were jealous of Dulcie. I never imagined you’d be cruel enough to do something like this!” I didn’t even get the chance to say a word before Wallace slammed me against the wall and strangled me to death. After I died, Dulcie ended up with Shane. When I opened my eyes again, I was back to three minutes before boarding the train.

My adoptive brother, Don Cassian. I loved him. The rival family drugged him. He had me pinned down. His hands on my breasts. He was hard, his eyes filled with a desperate hunger for me. But I shoved him off. Ran out the door. And called my best friend, Camilla. "Cassian's in the master bedroom. Get here. Now." I locked myself in the bathroom, letting the cold water wash away the fire he’d started in me. I remembered the last time. In my past life, when Cassian kissed me, I didn't say no. We made love all night. I thought my ten-year crush was finally mine. Then came St. Patrick's Cathedral. The Vitelli family's sapphire ring, passed down for three generations. The blessing of the Elders. I had everything I ever wanted. But the day after the wedding, I got the news. My best friend, Camilla, was dead. An overdose of antidepressants in her apartment. I was on the phone, crying for her, when a knife went through my chest from behind. I turned. It was Cassian, his face twisted with hate. "If you hadn't blackmailed me with those ledgers—if you hadn't forced your way into my bed—Camilla would still be alive. You have to pay for this!" That's when I understood. He never married me for love. It was all because of a whisper from Camilla: "Aurora controls the family's money. She can ruin you with a phone call." And a warning from the Elders: "Don, you must marry her. She knows too much." So this time, I stepped aside. I let them have each other. But why? Why did he come after me, his eyes red, looking like he'd lost his mind? "Aurora," he begged. "Why don't you love me anymore?"

I plan on ordering some food using my husband's phone, yet I've noticed a remark that's been saved on the delivery app. "The food is for a pregnant lady. Please make sure to be hygienic and use less oil and salt when making the dishes." I can feel my heart sink. I turn my gaze toward the bathroom, where my husband is. I can't figure out why my husband, who's been firm about not wanting a child, has been ordering meals for pregnant women. After a moment of hesitation, I scroll through the delivery app's order history with shaky hands. Numerous orders have been placed with the same restaurant, one that specializes in making exquisite dishes designed for pregnant women. Each of these food orders costs more than ten thousand dollars. My husband's company address has been chosen as the delivery address, and he's also the recipient. … After exiting the delivery app, I sit on the couch and stare into space. As I look at my husband's well-defined muscles, I recall how he, who's about to hit 40, is suddenly quite invested in getting in shape over the past year. I blurt out asking, "Have you been ordering food to your office often lately?" My husband freezes for a split second. Then, he fixes me with a gentle gaze. "I do that once in a while. Why are you suddenly asking about that? By the way, I haven't had the sweet and sour meatballs you make in a long while. Can you make some for me so that I can bring them to the office for my lunch tomorrow?" I smile at him and agree to his request. Still, I toss and turn in bed as the remark about the pregnant lady in his phone keeps gnawing at me that night.

Helen Sinclair walked out of a penthouse with nothing but a bag she'd packed four months before she needed it. No note. No explanation. Just a text — I can't do this anymore — and she left. She had married Alexander Sinclair because her father's company was drowning and the Sinclair name was the only life raft available. Nobody told her that. She figured it out herself, eighteen months too late, sitting on a cold bathroom floor with a positive pregnancy test while her husband's voice carried through the wall on another call that mattered more than she did. So she left. Three years later she is Helen Carter, living in Boston. Small apartment, a plant named Gerald, a job she earned herself. A quiet life entirely hers. She is also fourteen weeks pregnant with a child Alexander doesn't know exists. Then Julian Cross calls. He knows you're in Boston. He's coming himself. Alexander arrives with no team, no lawyers, no plan — which is so unlike him it frightens her. He says he just needed to see she was okay. She almost believes him. Then his eyes drop to her stomach and she watches him understand everything without a single word. What follows is a collision neither of them is prepared for. Alexander, who has never chased anything, now refuses to leave. Helen, who rebuilt herself from nothing, refuses to be pulled back. Julian Cross is realizing he has feelings for the woman his employer never deserved. And Nina Sinclair is about to blow everything open before Helen gets to decide anything herself. This is not a story about a woman who gets rescued. It's about one who makes the man who lost her prove he's worth finding again — on her terms, or not at all.