Novel & Cerita Peyton Coffee Booty

"What!" Ethan says in his all too familiar deep rude voice. "You hit me, which caused my coffee to spill all over me," I say, pointing out the obvious. "So, what do you want me to do about it," He speaks like he has done nothing wrong "You are supposed to say sorry," I say in a duh tone "And why should I." "Because that is what people with manners do." "I know that, but you don't deserve sorry from me." "Wow, really, and why is that." "Because black bitches like you don't deserve it." "I have told you times without number to stop calling me that," I say getting angry with his insults "Make me," Ethan says, taking a dangerous step closer to me. I don't say anything, but hiss and walk past him. I don't know why I even expected him to say anything better. It is Ethan, after all. --------------------------------------------------------------------------------- This is a story about two people who knew how to express the word hate more than anything else to one another. Ethan hates Adina more than anything in the world and would give anything to see her perish into thin air. While on the other hand Adina could careless about Ethan other than the fact that she won't let him walk all over her with his arrogant character. What happens when a big incident changes all that. How do these two different people deal with a feeling that is supposed to be forbidden to feel for the each other. Read to find out how the person you hate the most is the one person you can love the most.

My daughter, Elise Dolton, got sick, so I rushed over to take care of her. The moment I stepped inside, a rotten stench hit me right in the face, so I offered to help clean the place up. Her roommates' faces dropped right away. "What smell, Mrs. Dolton? The place is fine." "If you think it's such a dump, then have Elise move out. Don't come in here acting like you're better than all of us. We're not putting up with that!" Even Elise shoved me impatiently. "If you’re here to visit, then just act like it. Stop making a scene and embarrassing me, okay?” They were all college roommates, splitting rent on a run-down unit in an old complex. When I went in, I noticed them gathered around a pot of spicy stew. The room was thick with steam and smoke, but it still couldn't cover that awful stench. Strangely, none of them seemed to notice it. Had something gone wrong with my sense of smell? That night, the smell was so overwhelming that I couldn't fall asleep. In the end, I realized the odor was coming from Elise herself. I hurried her into the bathroom and scrubbed her down over and over, but the smell didn't fade at all. It stayed just as strong. With no other option, I called a cleaner, planning to disinfect the entire place inside and out. But Elise's roommates felt offended and started arguing with me. In the chaos, someone shoved me. My temple slammed into the sharp corner of the coffee table, and I died on the spot. When I opened my eyes again, I was back at the moment I first walked through the door. The stench rushed at me all over again...

Blaire hesitated, unaware of how much to reveal. " For spending time with me that night." Damien's expression shifted. " Are you a sex worker? I mean we only met that night, had sex while drunk and you seem okay with it. Are you here for the money? Well I should have thought about that too. I mean you know I'm Damien Smith." " No, How can you be so mean?" she said, disgusted by his attitude . " I didn't even know who you were until that morning." He nodded, his gaze rather cold. " But you took the money I dropped on the cupboard. For a moment I thought what I felt was real." "Look, whatever we had that night wasn't real, and you forced me into having an affair with you," he said, his voice cold and detached. The story is billionaire romance that revolves around two complex characters from very different worlds. Damien Smith, heir to a vast family fortune, is burdened by expectations and an emotionally unstable relationship with his fiancée, Gina. And Blaire,working a low-paying job at a coffee shop, is used to her difficult life enduring mistreatment and haunted by a troubled childhood. Their lives intertwine unexpectedly as they have a conversation and find solace and understanding in each other, despite the fact they were strangers to each other. They got drunk and ended up in each other's arms. He tries to deny the feelings he has for Blaire, as he ensures himself, she was only a desperate chick, who hovers around men for money. He meets her again at the bar, but this time around he was cold. The once lively emotions Blaire felt turned to agony, as Damien made it clear, it was only a one night stand.

"You're either brave," Aaron said quietly, his accent thickening just enough when he was irritated, "or you have no sense of self-preservation." I didn't look away. His dark eyes burned - calculating, controlled, dangerous. The kind of Alpha who didn't need to raise his voice to be obeyed. The kind who was born into power and sharpened by it. "Maybe I just don't scare easily," I said smugly. A muscle ticked in his jaw. Slow. Controlled. He stepped into my space, close enough that the air shifted, close enough that I could feel the heat rolling off him and smell the faint scent of coffee on his breath. "You should," he murmured, eyes focused on my lips. ⸻⸻⸻ Xavier has one rule: survive. After being betrayed and left for dead by his own pack, he doesn't trust Alphas. He doesn't trust loyalty. And he sure as fuck doesn't trust powerful families who smile too easily. Aaron D'Amico is everything Xavier avoids - a strategic, dangerously composed Alpha raised in legacy and control. His pack is strong. His leadership is unquestioned. And his mother's influence runs deeper than anyone realizes, even him. He doesn't make reckless decisions. He doesn't let emotions interfere. And he doesn't lose control. Until Xavier. What starts as irritation turns into a battle of dominance neither of them expected. But beneath the tension simmers something more dangerous - quiet political maneuvering, shifting loyalties, and a matriarch who watches every move. Because in this pack, power isn't taken with claws. It's taken with strategy. And the Alpha who prides himself on discipline? He's about to meet the one wolf who refuses to behave. WARNING ‼️‼️‼️ CONTAINS MATURE AND SEXUAL THEMES

Crimson Bloomed: Ascend Post - Apocalyptic Horror | Action | Yuri Harem | Coming - of - Age | Rated R | Mature Content | Slow Burn The city looked like it had been devoured — chewed up by fire, time, and whatever came after — then spit back out in jagged pieces. Dead drones dangled from power lines like rusted ornaments. Neon signs flickered above fractured pavement, their broken scripts glitching into gibberish. Down the block, a half - melted smartcar burned slow, casting warped shadows across the skeletal remains of a coffee bar. Behind a crumpled tram car, someone crouched low, breath tight in her lungs. The shrieking hadn’t stopped. It came again — sharp, bone-deep, the kind of sound that latched onto your spine and refused to let go. She checked the signal jammer at her hip. Still blinking. Still active. Not for long. They were tracking her. She moved fast — boots silent over broken glass, slipping through the breach in an old laundromat’s wall. Her body moved from muscle memory now: slide through, duck left, over the washer, don’t look at the corpse slumped by the dryer. Out the back. Up the fire escape. On the rooftop, she halted. Not alone. Someone was already there — silhouetted against the bleeding sunset. Combat jacket. Short - cropped hair. Pulse rifle slung casually over one shoulder like it weighed nothing. Like this was just another rooftop, just another war. “Don’t move,” the voice snapped. She lifted her hands slowly. “I’m clean.” “Everyone says that.” “Scan me.” beat. Then the girl stepped forward, rifle still raised but gaze locked in. Dark eyes, sharp, searching — not just for weapons, but tells. Fear. Lies. She lowered the rifle half an inch. “You’re lucky you’re cute.” That wasn’t the line she expected.

Roan King. The uncrowned king of Barnett University. He's like a freaking celebrity around here. It's totally ridiculous. People, by which I mean grown women, actually stalk him on the internet. And around campus. Apparently he's god's gift to both football and the ladies (I'm using that term loosely). All he has to do is smile and girls just fall right onto their backs before spreading their legs nice and wide. I've heard that he's already plowed his way through half the female population here at Barnett. I'm sure he'll work his way through the second half before he gets drafted to the NFL later this year. Yeah... I don't plan to be one of them. The guy is nothing more than a conceited player. You know the type—a steroid infused meathead jock coasting through college on his football prowess. Ugh. I have three words for you—avoid, avoid, avoid. Need I say more? I don't think so. I've had the sad misfortune of running into him on campus. Literally. As in—I literally slammed into him before spilling my iced coffee drink all over that wide rippling chest of his (did I just say that?). What I learned from the experience is that Roan King is one hell of a cocky son of a— Ok Unfortunately for me, Operation Avoid-Roan-King isn't going so well. Everywhere I go, there he is. If he wasn't so ridiculously hot, he would be a hell of a lot easier to forget. With his dark hair, shocking turquoise colored eyes and (damn him) buff body, he's easily the most gorgeous guy I've ever laid eyes on. Crap... see what I mean? Why do I suddenly have the bad feeling that Roan King is going to lead to my utter ruin and downfall?

Elena had once believed that silence could mean safety. That a gentle hand and a warm cup of tea placed quietly on her desk every morning could be a form of love. Lucien was never cruel—not in the obvious ways. He remembered how she liked her eggs, noticed when she swapped her perfume, and sent flowers on days he knew she wouldn’t expect them. He raised her like one would raise a pet—softly, without question. And Elena, foolish in the way only the very lonely can be, mistook his quiet affection for devotion. She told herself he was reserved. Mysterious. That love didn’t always wear its heart on its sleeve. But when the old flame returned—the one who spoke his language without needing to try—Elena saw it. The difference. He looked at her like a man who had found his lost religion. And Elena? She had simply been convenient. No tears, no scene. Just papers on the breakfast table, beside the eggs he cooked perfectly. She didn’t accuse or beg. She only asked for freedom. He didn’t sign. He chuckled. A soft, dismissive sound. “A cat raised indoors doesn’t know how to survive on the street, Elena. You’ll come back." But she didn’t. She disappeared, like smoke—except she didn’t vanish, not really. She lived. She wore colour again. Laughed at bad jokes. Let strange men hand her coffee and ask for her number. Lucien? He watched. He watched her become someone without him. And it drove him mad. The night he cornered her outside the gallery, rain in his hair and desperation in his eyes, he looked like a man undone. "Elena," he breathed, "please. Look at me. Just once." She did. Calm as ever, and her love already gone.

On the day I'm about to quit the game, I see countless live comments flashing across my vision. "Yay! The male supporting lead is about to quit the game!" "Now, the male lead won't have to worry about getting exposed for using the male supporting lead's game account to get into online relationships with others!" "Our darling male lead is too smart, after all! Whenever he goes on dates, he often uses the voice chat function in the game. That's why the male supporting lead is still kept in the dark!" "Holy shit, Henry really is lucky!" "To think that he used Vincent's max-level account to flirt with the four richest female players on the server!" "Later at 2:00 pm, he'll be meeting his first date partner, Yvonne Johnson the cold and aloof campus belle, at Cosmic Coffee!" "Tomorrow, he'll be meeting up with the top assassin in-game! The day after that, he'll go on a date with the second-highest paying player of the game! Wow, his time management skills really are amazing!" The "Henry" whom the live comments are referring to is Henry Luster, my roommate. So, he's been flirting with four of the top-tier rich female players while impersonating me, huh? More live comments streak past my eyes at that moment. "Why isn't the male supporting lead leaving? Yvonne is already waiting for the male lead right now!" "This is their first romantic date as the leads of this story! I can't wait to watch it unfold!" As I turn to look at Henry, who's styling his hair before the mirror, I suddenly realize that I'm the supporting male lead whom the live comments are referring to. My lips curl into a small smile. Since Henry has been using my identity to become a virtual casanova, then it's not wrong of me to attend each date in person on his behalf, right?

*Smut After her mate's brutal rejection, healing prodigy Sandra surrenders to a dangerously seductive stranger in a dark alley, only to discover he's her uncle Marcus. Trapped by blackmail in his isolated house, forbidden desire ignites between lessons. But Marcus harbors a deadly secret about her father's death. ----------------- “Fuck, Sandra,” he growled, thumb brushing over my nipple through the fabric until it stiffened, aching. “Vanessa’s right upstairs. If she hears us—” “I don’t care,” I panted, rocking up against him, chasing that thick pressure. “Make me forget today. Just tonight. Please.” I’m going straight to hell,” he muttered, then closed the gap. His mouth took mine slow this time, deliberate, like he was memorizing the taste of me. I sighed into it, hands sliding up his chest to grip his shoulders. He tasted like black coffee and smoke and sin, and I wanted more. He tugged me closer, one hand fisting in my hair, the other splayed low on my back, pressing me against him. Heat flared low in my belly, spreading fast. I shifted, trying to ease the ache between my thighs, and he groaned against my lips, grip tightening. His tongue traced the seam of my mouth; I opened for him instantly, meeting him stroke for stroke until we were both breathing hard. He tilted my head back, lips moving down my throat, teeth grazing the frantic beat of my pulse. I gasped, nails digging into the muscle of his shoulders. “We should stop,” he rasped against my skin, but his hand was already pushing under my thin tank top, calloused palm gliding up my ribs. “We should,” I agreed breathlessly, then dragged his mouth back to mine, kissing him deeper, hungrier.

He wasn’t searching for love. He wasn’t ready for him. But some things—like family, and falling—happen when you least expect them. When Ezra Anderson's sister dies, he inherits three young children and a crumbling rural property he's nowhere near prepared for. Overwhelmed, heartbroken, and freshly dumped, Ezra turns to the one person he shouldn't: Sebastian Brown—the gentle, steady Omega child psychologist he once shared one reckless night with... and never dared to call back. Sebastian offers a safe harbor. Routine. Warm hands and a softer kind of strength Ezra didn’t know he craved. What starts as survival—two men building a life for three grieving kids—soon strains under the weight of something deeper. The Omega in Sebastian draws Ezra like gravity, making every glance burn and every touch linger. The lines between family and something more blur until Ezra can no longer pretend. One night becomes two. Secrets slip into routines. And somewhere between sneaking into beds at night and morning coffee, Ezra faces the one truth he swore he'd never have to: He might not be as straight, or as strong, as he thought. As his Alpha instincts pull him closer to Sebastian’s Omega warmth, the world outside keeps pressing in. Desire stops hiding. And when the outside world comes knocking, Ezra is forced to choose: Keep pretending... or hold on to the only thing that feels like home. SNEAK PEEK: “I’m not in love with you. I just… don’t know how to breathe when you’re not there.” - Ezra “I’m not gay. I’m just yours.” - Ezra “You keep saying you’re not mine… but you keep choosing me.” - Sebastian “You’re allowed to love me, you know.” - Sebastian NB: 18+ (Tissues highly recommended.)