Private Tutor Dramione

My wife's gym is celebrating its grand opening, and I drag my buddy along to check the place out with a 9.90-dollar trial class I bought through an e-commerce platform. For the entire time, I never once let it slip that I'm the owner. Right after we finish training, a male coach tosses a price sheet at us. His eyes sweep over us with contempt as he says, "You two look like freeloaders. Our private sessions cost a few hundred each, and we don't offer freebies to people like you." I let out a disbelieving laugh. "We paid for this trial class. How is that freeloading? Go get your manager." He rolls his eyes and makes it seem like he's enforcing a very important rule. "Don't bother looking for the manager. My girlfriend owns this place, and she hates broke losers who try to get free classes." He dials her number right in front of us. His voice sounds both arrogant and pitiful. "Babe, two guys showed up and tried to con us into giving them a free class. They even told me to call the manager. Come over here and show them what's what!"

For over thirty years, my wife Janet faked being broke—for her flimsy ex. When our son Asher landed in the hospital, I begged and borrowed from everyone I knew. Still came up fifty bucks short. Janet? Said she was tapped out. So my mom sold off her own meds to cover the bill—never told me. She died without treatment. I handled my mom's funeral alone. When I went to pick up Asher from the hospital, I found a stash of Janet's old shopping receipts. Custom suits. Million-dollar watches. A damn private jet. I grabbed them and stormed off to confront her. Asher cut me off. "Dad, Mr. Sackett's sick. Mom's just helping him out. Why are you freaking out?" I stared at the kid who only lived because my mom died. It felt like something cracked inside me. Janet barely looked up. "Connor's educated. He deserves the finer things. Unlike you—crying over fifty bucks like some househusband. See? I didn't give you the money, and Asher's fine." Fine. If that's how they see it, I'm done with this family.

Three years after graduation, I was waiting tables at a restaurant when I happened to run into some of my old classmates having a private dinner there. The moment they saw me carrying trays, they burst out laughing. My old rival Elliot sneered that I was a useless nobody, then pulled out 50 bucks and tossed it in front of me, telling me to lick the food scraps off his shoe. "Clean my shoe, and that fifty's yours!" Even my ex-girlfriend joined in to humiliate me. "I can't believe this is what you've become three years after graduation, Chase. Good thing I dumped you when I did—I'd hate to be the girlfriend of some broke loser." Elliot and a few others pinned me to the floor, forcing me to kneel and even bark like a dog. My ex clapped her hands, laughing. "Chase, you really do look like a dog when you're on your knees." Then, the restaurant manager rushed in. The moment he saw me, his face went pale with shock. "M–Mr. Levine… are you all right, sir?" Blood dripping down my forehead, I pointed at everyone in that room. "No one leaves this room tonight."

“You’re drunk,” he said, smirking. “Yeah,” she admitted, then reached out and touched his shirt. “But I still want to have sex with you.” Vincenzo tilted his head slightly, like he was studying a new toy. "You were about to go after my bodyguard, huh?" he said. His fingers suddenly cupped her breast, slow and confident. “And yet, you look more like a virgin than a pervert.” That sobered her up a bit. “I—what?” Before she could say anything else, she blurted, “I want to have sex with you. I’m all yours tonight.” Vincenzo raised a brow, then smiled. “If that’s what you want.” He stood up, lifted her into his arms effortlessly, and carried her through a side door. Her arms looped around his neck as her heart pounded so hard she could barely breathe. He kicked open a private room. Inside, he pressed her against the wall and kissed her—hot, commanding, full of hunger. She melted into it. Her legs wrapped around his waist, and for the first time in her life, she didn’t care who she was supposed to be. She was just a girl kissing a stranger.

Sixteen-year-old Aria Blackwell is the billionaire’s forgotten daughter—unwanted, unseen, and emotionally discarded after her father remarries and starts a new, perfect family. Left to battle her loneliness in silence, Aria begins noticing strange things happening when she loses control of her emotions—things that shouldn't be possible. After a terrifying incident forces her expulsion from yet another private school, a black envelope arrives with no return address. Its message is simple: Welcome to Blackmoor Academy. Hidden deep in the mountains, Blackmoor isn’t listed anywhere. Its students aren’t normal. And neither, Aria learns, is she. Three dangerously beautiful boys seem to know exactly who she is. They say she’s Starborn—a girl tied to an ancient prophecy that could tip the balance between realms. Her powers are awakening, her soul marked, and her heart torn. One boy wants to love her. The others might destroy her. But none of them are ready for what Aria truly is becoming. When her magic explodes during a duel and a dark sigil blazes onto her wrist, everything changes. The boys kneel. The academy trembles. And the hunt for her soul begins. At Blackmoor, love is lethal, secrets are sacred, and fate has teeth. Aria was never meant to survive in this world. She was meant to rule it.

LOVE COMES IN UNEXPECTED WAYS. SOMETIMES EVEN WE FALL IN LOVE WITH A WRONG PERSON IN A RIGHT TIME AND VICE VERSA WE FALL IN LOVE WITH A RIGHT PERSON BUT IN A WRONG TIME. IN THE NAME OF LOVE, WHAT YOU WILL DO TO FIGHT FOR YOUR LOVE? HOW YOU WILL FIGHT FOR A LOVE THAT IT'S NOT YOURS? ARE YOU READY TO FACE THE CONSEQUENCES THAT IT MAY CAUSE? WHEN THE TRUTH PREVAILS, ARE YOU ABLE STEP FORWARD AGAIN AFTER THE STORMY SEASON? She is Leonora Lopez, the only daughter of Veronica Lopez and Fernando Lopez. They are one of the richest family in Madrid, Spain. And they are Roman Catholic. They have everything in life. But her father wants her to marry his best friend that about the same as his ages. She can't resist the will of his father even her mother can't do anything about it. She's the young woman who will become the billionaire's wife but she will fall in love with their private lawyer from the Philippines. They will have a intimate affair. But the midnight that she's with her lover, Aries Dale, her husband passed away. The fruit of their relationship, Theodora Aries, never say a word since she was born but the doctor says that there's nothing wrong with her. But the question is, where is Aries Dale now? After they parted their ways that dawn she never heard anything from him anymore.

Note: This is a super erotic +18 pages of her diary. Read at your own risk. When the thunder rolls and the lights flicker, Lexi writes, and nothing is off limits. Trapped between the walls of a religious household and the firestorm inside her own body, Lexi is a quiet 21-year-old woman with a loud, unfiltered diary. Orphaned at twelve and raised by her aunt and pastor uncle in a small Georgia town, Lexi lives in the shadows — but her fantasies, frustrations, and forbidden desires fill every page of her private journal. Naked Pages: The Diary of Lexi is a confessional coming-of-age erotica told from the perspective of a young woman exploring her sexuality in secret. From heartbreak and betrayal to late-night cravings, self-discovery, and unexpected temptation, Lexi’s journey is messy, raw, and deeply honest. She’s not searching for love — she’s chasing something real: connection, pleasure, and control over her own story. As she transitions into a new life in Atlanta, surrounded by new people and new dangers, Lexi’s entries grow even bolder. And every chapter she writes pulls us deeper into her unfiltered world — full of heat, heartbreak, and hard truths. This is more than just her diary. It’s her freedom.

Held Light, Held Close follows Celeste Bradbury, a quiet, disciplined young woman who arrives in New York to work with the world-famous band Luminous Riot. Raised in the hush of convent halls and foster homes, Celeste has learned to survive by moving gently, listening closely, and building her life out of small, steadfast rituals. But the music world is loud, chaotic, and unkind—especially under the sharp eye of Paul Logan, the band’s volatile lead singer who meets her composure with relentless mockery. As weeks turn into months, Celeste maintains her quiet routines, her faith, and her dignity despite the storm around her. She becomes a still point in the band’s restless orbit—an anchor none of them expected, and a mirror that reveals what each member is running from. Through rehearsals, touring, backstage politics, deadlines, and private battles the world never sees, Celeste’s presence begins to shape the group in ways that defy explanation. The House She Built is a story of chosen family, slow-burn transformation, unspoken tenderness, and the quiet power of a woman who refuses to break—even when the world demands it. It is about the sanctuary we build within ourselves, and the imperfect people we let inside.

I dropped by to help my younger sister revise her thesis, and while I was at it, I joined her research group for dinner. The moment I walked into the private dining room, a few girls blushed and called out to me. “Hey, handsome, are you single? Give us a shot!” My sister’s boyfriend, Eric Pensworth, looked at me with a faint smile. “Man, you look kind of familiar. You remind me of that pretty boy everyone’s been talking about on the forum. “They say you slept with Professor Alva Jackson and stole my direct-entry PhD spot.” I froze. The Alva Jackson he was talking about was the newly hired professor at Adams University, fresh back from overseas. Just as I was about to explain, he cut me off with an innocent look. “Maybe I got the wrong guy. You look way too respectable to be the kind of guy who lives off women. “But Professor Jackson’s nearly fifty. How could you even do it with her?” I stared at him, completely dumbfounded. Since when had I become a fifty-year-old woman? Was there another Alva Jackson at Adams University besides me?

The night of our engagement party, I found my best friend playing a dangerous game with my fiancé. The casino on our family's private yacht was where I found them. Clara was sitting on the lap of my fiancé, Killian, the Falcone family heir. Killian held a sharp family dagger, its tip snagging the thin strap of her dress. The blade traced a path along her collarbone. The slightest pressure would snap the silk. It was a dangerous, intimate scene. I stepped forward with a frown, but Killian just scoffed. "It's just a little game to liven things up, Principessa. Don't be so tense." Clara's eyes narrowed, her voice dripping with false sweetness. "We're just playing a traditional family game. The knife game. You don't mind, do you, sweetie?" I was about to speak, but Killian's expression hardened. "We just got engaged and you're already trying to control me?" So I said nothing. I just drew my custom pistol from its holster on my thigh. "So, it's a game," I said. "Then let's play for something real."