Plush Couch

Late at night, my husband came home with a young model. "So, you are the washed-up wife that Mr. Dawson keeps at home?" The girl looked at me with a mocking smile and said. Jay Dawson, my husband, reeking of alcohol, glanced between us with interest. He then hugged the young girl and led her into the bedroom. I sat alone on the living room couch, wrapped in a blanket, and listened to their shameless noises all night. I endured it for two years. Our agreement had finally ended this year, and so had my love for Ethan. I walked away. But Ethan chased after me like a madman.

"Did you think I’d just let you go?" Suzanne’s grip on her son tightened as Charles took a slow step forward, his smirk curling like smoke in the air. "I sent you the damn divorce papers, Charles. Sign them and leave." He chuckled. "Oh, I got them." Another step. "But I don’t sign away what’s mine." She backed up. "I am not yours. I stopped being yours the night you betrayed me." His jaw clenched. The silence stretched—thick, suffocating—before he lunged. Suzanne barely had time to gasp before his hands were on her, ripping their son from her arms. The boy hit the couch with a soft thud and let out a startled cry. "You son of a—!" She shoved at him, clawing, struggling, but he was stronger. His hands dug into her waist, yanking her against him, his breath hot and reeking of alcohol. "You’re mine, Suzanne," he growled, fingers digging into her skin. "And if I can’t have you—" his grip tightened, his lips brushing her ear, "no one will." Then—CRACK! Charles gone—ripped off her, sent flying across the room. Suzanne gasped, chest heaving, scrambling back just as her attacker crashed into a table. A voice, dark and furious, sliced through the chaos. "Touch her again, and I’ll kill you." Her heart stopped. She knew that voice. Liam Carter. --- Trapped in a loveless marriage to a ruthless CEO, Suzanne Smith thought she had no way out—until Liam Carter, her high school sweetheart, walked back into her life. He’s everything her husband isn’t—kind, passionate, and willing to fight for her. But leaving Charles Langford won’t be easy. His Lies. Betrayal. Violence. Will she escape his grip, or will her past consume her? How far will she go for freedom?

“I don't love you!” Logan said to her. “I have you in my Pack because of the child that you carry. He is mine, Amber. Don't you get it?” Shocked by his words, she plopped down to the couch in the room she was given, finding it hard to breathe like other wolves in the Pack. Is this what she has come here to do? How blind is the Alpha to see she is his mate, and not the same girl, sold to him?

Wealthy and beautiful Angela thinks no one will ever know about her dark, terrible past. Being thrown out by her stepdad and having no place to go, she is forced to do things for survival. "After developing an application that made her rich, she becomes a popular figure; of course, everyone wants a piece of the pie, even the person who hates you the most. "Angela never for a moment thought someone would threaten to expose her. Now she's being given the alternative. You will do as I say or pay the price. Angela has to find the blackmailer and deal with him by whatever means. Run Angela screamed Jessica as Angela sprinted through the woods with wind bustling through the branches of the trees, making the leaves howl in their symphony. Two natural forces are both in harmony and constantly fighting. The rain would come down any second; its distinct smell filled the air. Plush, intertwining clouds pushed their grey front toward where I stood. Angela stopped by the edge of the river; she placed a hand on her chest, her heart wouldn't stop raging against her rib cage, and she fought to keep silent a small whimper. Her heart was so loud she feared it would give her away; it was so loud in her ears; she thought the creature that used to be someone she once trusted would hear it and tear it from her. "Who is there? She screamed, looking back, hearing footsteps getting closer. Until she stopped and looked back, there stood a man with a mask, holding a knife; who was this person? Being diagnosed with anterograde amnesia made her unable to create new memories; her past kept haunting her. is it the same person who is always killing her in her dreams?

La veille du bal de fin d'année du lycée, Étienne m'a attirée dans son lit. Il a été brutal et m'a baisée toute la nuit. Malgré la douleur, mon cœur était rempli de douceur. Parce que j'aimais Étienne en secret depuis dix ans. Enfin, j'avais ce que je voulais. Il a juré de m'épouser après le lycée, et de faire de moi la femme la plus respectée des Luciano une fois son héritage assuré. Le lendemain, il m'a serrée contre lui et a annoncé à mon frère adoptif, Lucas, que nous étions ensemble. Blottie contre Étienne, rouge de timidité, je me sentais la plus heureuse du monde. Mais soudain, ils se sont mis à parler en italien. Lucas a ricané : « Notre Jeune Chef est vraiment génial - la première fois, et la plus jolie fille de la classe se jette à toi. » « Alors, ma sœur, elle était comment ? » Étienne a répondu distraitement : « Innocente en apparence, mais salope au lit. » Les rires ont fusé. « Alors, je l'appelle désormais petite sœur ou belle-sœur ? » Mais Étienne a froncé les sourcils : « Belle-sœur ? En fait, je m'intéresse à la capitaine des pom-pom girls, j'ai peur qu'elle pense que je ne suis pas bon au lit. Alors, je m'entraîne d'abord sur Cécile. » « Ne dites pas à Sylvia‌ que j'ai couché avec Cécile, j'ai peur qu'elle soit mécontente. » Mais ils ne savaient pas que j'avais depuis longtemps appris secrètement l'italien pour Étienne. En entendant tout cela, je n'ai rien dit. J'ai simplement modifié ma candidature : d'emlyon BS à HEC Paris.

I let out soft moans of pleasure... Leaning on the wall, I grappled one leg on his waist, with one of my hands holding the table tightly, and the other wrapped around his neck. He unzipped my dress and helped me pull it off, while I fumbled through to unbutton his shirt, not taking my lips away from his. We moved further to the couch, kissing like it would be our very last. My breast brushed against his chest, creating a warm feeling, and this overwhelming sensation made my breath heavier. He latched his tongue on my neck, and a moan escaped my lips. "Chris.." I called, under my breath. Biting my already swollen lips, sinking my hands into his back, trying to pull him closer to me. His left arm remained rooted in my neck, while the other arm glided down my waist, to my ass and I whimpered, arching my body towards his, this felt so good. "You taste so good" he whispered, gently biting my ear lobes, my body reacted as his breath touched me. When demons meet and are entangled in the web of forbidden love, hate and sacrifices - chaos is bound to happen. Just when life becomes rough for JJ... Joanna, she gets drunk in a party and goes wild with a one night stand, the almighty Chris Aetos, a billionaire CEO and prince of the ginns. Therefore a fate may have it... THE PREY OF THE GINN NEVER ESCAPES THE GINN. Gradually, both get caught up in a whirlwind of shocking discoveries, histories and dark revelations. What is it like to discover that you were once in love with a particular person eight hundred years ago?

The last time I mentioned my engagement to Walter Reagle, everyone in the room went quiet at first. However, after seeing Walter's annoyed look, they all started laughing. "Who still believes in old-fashioned childhood betrothals these days?" "Is Ms. Lawson feeling insecure?" I ignored their teasing. I just looked at Walter, who was lounging on the couch with his shirt collar open, showing off the lovebites on his neck and collarbone. My heart felt like it was being stabbed. The pain came slowly. "We were too young to agree to something so silly," he said. Walter looked up with a faint, mocking smile. He gave me a lazy look. "We're grown up now, Emma. "Let's just forget about the past."

Sandra Kinsey's dance studio was where she buried her passion. It was also our secret place. No one else was allowed in. No one but me. Until one day, her assistant barged in, using a love for Latin dance as an excuse, and danced with her intimately. Sandra didn't push him away. That was the moment I knew—you can't make someone stay when their heart has already left. I stripped her of her authority, took over the company myself, and gave Sandra all the freedom she could ever ask for. But later, eyes red and voice trembling, she looked at me and demanded to know why. I sat on the couch and glanced at her with indifference. "Freedom," I said, "always comes at a price. Doesn't it?"

It was all her fault. My life could have been simple—40-hour shifts at KFC, sneaking extra chicken crumbs, and binge-watching reality shows. But no. Instead, here I was, standing at the altar, saying I do to a man whose idea of “casual” involved drugs, women, and murder on speed dial. Thanks, Mom. Not only did she ruin my life, but she also sold it—traded me off to the deadliest Mafia boss alive, Mario Santiago, as if I were some secondhand couch on clearance. Mario Santiago. Yeah, that Mario Santiago. The Human Terminator. The guy whose enemies mysteriously vanish like my paycheck two days after payday. And now, I was his wife. He glanced at me with a slow, wolfish smile that practically screamed trouble. That was when I knew two things: 1. I was completely doomed. 2. This man was going to wreck my heart (and probably my life). But hey, it could be worse, right? At least I’d get a killer wardrobe out of it. *** Are you looking for romance and humor? Stuck with Mario Santiago is a hilarious, Mafia billionaire romance filled with danger, betrayal, drama, and a love story you won’t forget. Dive in—you won’t regret it (but the characters might).

So this is how the mate bond feels. A rush of energy, a pull like gravity tightening around us, and an almost maddening awareness of the other person. I wasn’t about to let it sway me though. Sure, the man in front of me is ridiculously perfect, but I wasn’t some love-struck fool who’d drop everything at the first spark of fate. I had a life, plans, and a fiancé waiting for me upstairs. I raised an eyebrow, forcing myself to stay calm even as my heart raced. “Take a number and get in line, sweetheart,” I said coolly, flashing the engagement ring on my finger in front of his gray eyes. “I’m otherwise occupied right now.” …Five years later, when I pushed the door open, my mate remained motionless on a leather couch, his piercing gaze boring into me with a cold detachment that sent shivers down my spine. He leaned back, the casualness of the gesture at odds with the intensity in his eyes. His arms rested lazily on the backrest, but there was nothing relaxed about him. His body was coiled tight, like a predator ready to pounce, and the air between us crackled with tension. “Is my number finally up?” he asks, his tone laced with bitter amusement. “My dear mate.” The words sting, but I can’t deny the truth in them. He is my last chance.