Shameless Book Novels & Stories

Many things happened in these four months, Jami. She pursed her lips. "Now, I'm Ashlyn Kyle Ivan." James' jaw dropped. "What the hell? What are you saying, Asho? How is this possible, and who is Kyle Ivan?" He became furious. "Calm down. I'm telling you everything; just don't be mad at me." She bit her lip. "All right," James said, taking a deep breath. Then Ashlyn started to tell him everything, from the day Helen gave her dare to how she pranked her. How Kyle took her revenge and how she became homeless She hid the part about her home visit. She didn't tell him the part where Amanda and Caroline schemed against her.

Blushing she nodded to him. "Ren, I will speak with them for a bit." Melinda came out of her thoughts. She was mostly keeping the Nightmare Manual in check. it was way overstimulated the last few days. Ren warned her of the power involved but she didn't think it would be like this. She had no need for resources really as every fear and bad thought caused her to draw Ion energy faster.

Valentina held her breath, pulse pounding against her throat, the ledger heavy in her hand. The shadow didn’t move. The shadow loomed just beyond the stall door. A pair of shoes—black leather, scuffed at the toes—angled toward her. Valentina’s breath snagged in her chest. Her fingers tightened on the ledger, her red nails biting into the leather. A soft rattle at the lock. Her pulse thundered. The handle jiggled harder this time, the lock straining against the force. Then— A muffled grunt. A scuffle, quick and low. The sound of air being driven from lungs, the faint scrape of leather on tile.

He also read a few about redemption but when I found one titled: ‘The Weightiness of Guilt’, something about it drew me closer. Was Shawn remorseful for what he did to me? Did he have such a book because of it? I picked up the single leather-bound volume book, caressing its title and getting lost in emotions. “Get a grip, Calista!” I chided myself and opened the book. My brows furrowed as I didn't find what I had expected to find in its content. This was a report filled with diagrams and detailed schematics of a deal. I felt sick in the stomach when I read through and found all the cruel things Shawn had done for money. He even facilitated an experimental deal in rural areas.

But shame still sat heavy in my chest, a familiar weight I'd carried for years. "Because it's embarrassing," I admitted, my voice barely above a whisper. "Nice girls aren't supposed to read books about..." I waved my hand vaguely at the cover, unable to say the words out loud. "About what? Love? Passion? People finding each other?" Liam moved closer, and I caught a hint of his cologne, something clean and masculine that made my thoughts scatter. "There's nothing wrong with that, Deborah. Nothing shameful about wanting to read stories that make you feel something."

Dear readers, whatever I do,I always keep in my mind, "please don't judge a book by it's cover." I request you to do the same. As much as it appears as a cruel romance,this book has the passionate love we all crave for at least once in our life. This is my first book. I don't ask you to go easy on me. Let me know my flaws,so that I could learn from my mistakes. I'll put all the effort I am more than capable of to give you an amazing time while reading this. So let's help each other. Please leave your thoughts and views in the comment section.

The tea steam curled in lazy smokes between us. “I feel dirty,” I said finally. The words slipped out before I could stop them. “Like I’m covered in something I can’t wash off.” “You’re not,” he said. His voice was gentle, but firm. “You didn’t do anything wrong.” I wanted to believe him. God, I really did. But shame is tricky. It sneaks in, even when you know it doesn’t belong to you. It wraps around you like smoke, until you can’t see clearly anymore.

The very thought of that book sitting out there in the world made my stomach violently churn. It wasn’t just a journal filled with daily complaints.. it was a highly explicit and intensely mortifying record of every filthy and embarrassing fantasy I had ever concocted about Elijah Brooks.. the golden boy.. the guy who didn’t even know I existed. If anyone actually read those pages, I wouldn’t just be humiliated. I would literally have to change my name, fake my own death and move to a remote island where Wi-Fi didn’t exist.

I had to duck into alleys and finger myself to quick, desperate orgasms just to function. One night I brought a thick candle from home. I lit it for light, then slid the smooth base into my soaked pussy while reading. The book showed a woman riding her lover reverse cowgirl while another licked her clit. I rode the candle exactly like her, moaning loudly. “Fill me… stretch my tight cunt,” I gasped. The dirty words felt natural now. The shy girl I used to be had almost disappeared. The book hummed with pleasure. Yes. Speak your lust. Feed me your shame.

Klark, ‘Tribid Greed’ by Steve Reynolds, and a lot of other books. One by one Trisha returned all the books she'd picked. When she was beginning to get tired and unmotivated, the corner of her eyes perceived a strange book on a shelf not too far from where she was. Its spines were tattered and appeared like spiky wires beneath the poor lighting.