Shameless Neighbors

Tate flirts with danger the same way he flirts with men. Recklessly. So when his father’s debts land him in the hands of Enzo Moretti, a cold-blooded mafia boss with a smile as sharp as his threats, Tate should be terrified. Instead, he flirts harder, hiding sharp eyes behind thick glasses like he doesn’t see the monster watching him. But he does. He always did. Enzo is no ordinary criminal. He’s a werewolf with a body built to break, a past soaked in blood, and a temper barely kept in check. Tate is supposed to be collateral—silent, obedient, forgotten. But Tate? He’s loud, shameless, stubborn enough to make Enzo feel. For months, they circle each other—clashing, teasing, burning. Enzo should’ve killed him, but instead, he steals him. Holds him. Breaks him open until their craving for each other twists between punishment and pleasure, until need feels like worship, and pain starts to taste like love. Then, when Tate thinks he’s escaped, when he thinks he’s free—Enzo lets him go. When someone else tries to take what’s already his, Enzo doesn’t hesitate. He drags Tate back, and now the boy wears his name, carries his ring, and sleeps in his bed. Maybe Tate should hate him. But he doesn’t. Because he never wanted gentle. He never wanted safe. He wanted this—blinding, consuming desire. And Enzo? He doesn’t let go. Not when he’s tasted him. Marked him. Owned him. Because monsters like him don’t share. Not even with their own blood.

On Christmas, I canceled a delivery appointment for the daughter of New Hork’s richest man. Instead, I flew overnight to deliver the baby of my brother, the Mafia boss, and his fiancée. The moment I stepped into the delivery room, she was already writhing in pain. Yet she suddenly grabbed my hand and demanded to know if I was a virgin. Seeing that she was already three centimeters dilated, I assumed the pain had muddled her mind. So I casually replied that I hadn’t been one for a long time. That was when she completely lost it, kicking me hard in the stomach as she screamed, “Get out! A shameless woman like you isn’t worthy of touching my son?! “Switch to a virgin doctor right now! Don’t pass your filth onto my child! Disgusting! “And take away all those imported supplements you brought! Even dogs wouldn’t eat them!” I stared at her as she rolled around on the bed and fell into deep thought. I genuinely couldn’t understand how a woman who got pregnant before marriage and was still living off my brother got the confidence to look down on someone else for not being a virgin? Calmly, I removed my gloves and called my brother right in front of her. “Your fiancée says I’m dirty, so I won’t be delivering this baby. Let her give birth on her own. “Oh, and I’ve canceled the top-tier delivery suite I reserved for you, too. After all, I wouldn’t want them to offend her eyes.”

“You mean nothing to me,” Andrew declared, his voice icy and final. My heart shattered with every word he uttered. My vision blurred with tears as our beautiful memories flooded my mind. We were in love, we were inseparable. So how did I become nothing to my husband? “Why…why would you say that?” I whispered, my lips trembling from the weight of disbelief. “You shameless cheat! I was bedridden, and you seized the chance to be with another man!” He snapped, his hand tightening around Anna's waist. My eyes darted to Anna, my best friend, “What did you tell him?” I asked, hoping this was all some misunderstanding. She smirked, “The truth.” “You were supposed to help me take care of him. I was going to tell him how I got the money for his treatment. Why would you lie?” I questioned as the feeling of betrayal stung. “Oh please,” she scoffed. “You expect him to believe someone paid you three hundred thousand dollars just to pretend to be their wife? You slept with him, Georgia. That’s cheating.” I staggered back, clutching my head as her words echoed through my mind like chaotic music on repeat. My mouth opened but no words came out. How do you explain a contract marriage to save your dying husband? I sobbed softly as the feeling of betrayal burned the shattered pieces of my heart. It stung deeper than I imagined possible. This wasn't from a stranger. It was from the two people I loved the most. Now, I've got nothing left to lose. And I'll make sure I get revenge for this. No one will be spared!

{ Choi Dea and Sung-ho } "Shall I compare thee to a summer’s day? Thou art more lovely and more temperate: Rough winds do shake the darling buds of May, And summer’s lease hath all too short a date: Sometime too hot the eye of heaven shines, And often is his gold complexion dimmed; And every fair from fair sometime declines...." - by William Shakespeare Choi Dea was in the possession of a position where she never truly wanted to be, just because of her father insisted. Her whole life was existing without love, she never got a chance to meet her mother. One day and within a day, her sister Joo-eun trapped her in a business downfall, she planned it all along. Why would a bastard be the CEO of the top cosmetic company, when the true heir was still alive? Joo-eun did that to her because of hatred and envy. Dea actually never thought about her birth, those feelings never occurred to her. But when she saw her company fall, her cold heart began to quiver, unable to decide between the right and wrong. Due to her close friend's suggestion, she went to meet the Mafia Boss of the underworld, to convince him to help her company regain their shares. Mafia Boss Sung-ho was literally shameless, he had a crush on Dea from the moment he saw her. He decided to help her company and cleared the people who were after her, but the exchange was......... Two people, from two different worlds, both of them didn't want to be from the beginning who they were. The exchange, could Dea be able to give her heart to the Mafia Boss? Or would she backstab Sung-ho and destroy the underworld if she listened to her conscience?

"Crawl to Daddy on your hands and knees, little whore. I want to see you beg for this dick before I split you open and breed that dripping cunt." * Daddy's Naughty Pet is a collection for readers who are tired of vanilla bullshit and want stories about people who fuck like their lives depend on it. Five chapters each of the raunchiest, most depraved scenarios that'll make you wet, hard, and wondering what's wrong with you for loving it. The stepmom who "accidentally" walks in on her stepson jerking off and decides to help. The personal assistant who schedules "meetings" that are really just fuck sessions on the conference table. The priest who breaks his vows with a parishioner in the confessional. The doctor who gives very hands-on examinations. The landlord who demands payment in pussy. The mechanic who test-drives more than cars. The massage therapist with wandering hands. The yoga instructor who teaches flexible positions for other reasons. The lifeguard who performs mouth-to-mouth that turns into face-fucking. The uber driver who takes a detour. Every character is controlled by their cravings. The married woman sneaking out to get railed by her ex because her husband's dick doesn't satisfy. The college girl who fucks her entire fraternity in one night. The businessman who keeps a submissive locked in his penthouse. These stories don't have plot—they have positions. No character development—just hole development. No emotional connection—just physical fucking that leaves them sore, sticky, and immediately ready for round two. Expect: Every depraved kink you can imagine and some you didn't know existed. This collection is shameless, filthy, degenerate smut with zero redeeming qualities. And that's exactly why you'll devour every word. Ready! Now flip that page like the good little girl you are.

One night, my family sat together watching the New Year’s Eve Live on television. My little sister, Stella Larson, said she had to pee and hurried to the washroom. Half an hour later, she still had not returned. When I went to check on her, the washroom was empty. “When did Stella leave the washroom?” I asked my parents. Both of them were stunned for a moment before feeling my forehead and saying, “What are you talking about? You’re an only child. Who is Stella?” They forcibly pulled me back to my seat. My mind went blank. Did the three of them just pull a prank on me? After finishing his drink, my father clutched his stomach and rushed into the washroom. I stared fixedly at the washroom door. A long time passed, but no one came out. My father had vanished, too. My hand trembled as I pointed at the bathroom. My mother stepped forward to go in. “Don’t go in! Dad and Luna disappeared in there!” My mother looked grief-stricken as she said, “Sweetie, it’s been just the two of us for the past twenty-plus years, remember?” Her words hit me hard. I was in total disbelief. I explained myself frantically, but the more I spoke, the more confused my mother became. She finally shook me off and said, “Why are you doing this to me? I’ve raised you your whole life! Why do you have to ruin New Year’s Eve?” She walked straight into the washroom, and the house soon fell into a dead silence. Terrified, I called my best friend, Kathy Scott, who lived nearby. I rambled incoherently as I begged her for help. But her words utterly crushed me. “What family members? You’re an orphan.” I hung up the phone, rushed out, and pounded frantically on the neighbors’ door.

She left cash on his pillow. He's been hunting her for eighteen years. Now they're neighbors—and she's carrying his baby. Evelyn Hart's revenge plan was simple: hire the hottest escort money could buy, have one night of mind-blowing sex, and finally forget her cheating ex-husband exists. What she got instead: Sebastian Creed. Six-foot-four of sinful perfection who made her body sing in ways she didn't know were possible. She left ten thousand dollars on the bed and ran before dawn, convinced she'd never see him again. Six weeks later, reality hits like a freight train. The "escort" is actually a billionaire. He owns the mansion next door. He's been obsessively searching for her since the night he saved her from a car crash when she was fourteen. Oh, and she's pregnant with twins the doctors said she could never have. Sebastian isn't just her neighbor—he's her stalker, her savior, and apparently, her fated mate. Because plot twist: he's a werewolf. And the supernatural bond between them is turning her inconvenient attraction into a soul-deep craving that's impossible to fight. Now he's breaking into her house at 3 a.m., showing up uninvited to her OB appointments, and making it very clear that the one night she paid for was just the beginning of forever. But their twisted love story is about to get deadlier. Sebastian's dying father wants him to claim a werewolf throne. His ex-husband wants her land for a billion-dollar deal. Werewolf royalty wants her dead for contaminating the bloodline. And Evelyn? She just wants to survive pregnancy, figure out how to be a queen in a world that thinks she's prey, and maybe—maybe—learn to trust the alpha who's been obsessed with her since she was a teenager.

Deck the halls with daddy issues and scream "yes, Santa" until the neighbors complain. She sold herself to save her mother. He bought her to settle a score. Neither expected twelve days of captivity to feel like coming home. Ten years ago, Evangeline Rose fled Willow Creek and the cruel boy who made her life hell. Now she’s back with a new name, a new body, and one desperate choice: enter the town’s secret Christmas auction where wealthy men bid on willing women. When the hammer falls at five hundred thousand dollars, Eva expects a stranger. Instead, she gets Grayson Holt—her former tormentor, now a devastatingly dangerous man in a half-open Santa jacket who just bought twelve uninterrupted nights with the virgin he once swore no one would ever want. She should be terrified. He's the reason she hid in bathroom stalls and cried herself to sleep. But the first time he kisses her, his hands shake. The first time she fights back, he groans her name like a prayer. And somewhere between the firelight and the snow and the silk ribbons around her wrists, they both realize the ugly truth: He didn't buy her to break her. He bought her because he's been broken without her. The boy who spray-painted "fat ugly bitch" on her locker is the same man who falls to his knees in the snow on the last morning and begs her not to leave. The girl who swore she'd never forgive him is the same woman who has to choose: walk away free, or stay with the monster who finally admitted he's been in love with her since the day he made her cry. Eva spent a decade learning to hate Grayson Holt. Turns out she's been loving him the whole damn time.

When I saw my best friend tending to the elderly man upstairs with such diligence in washing his clothes, cooking his meals, feeding him medicine, and giving him massages, I immediately knew that she had been reborn, too. In my previous life, my best friend and I shared an apartment. We were often awakened in the middle of the night by the old man’s cough from upstairs. When I went up to check on him, I learned that his legs were paralyzed, and he had no children or family. Out of sympathy, I decided to care for him. I brought him his daily meals and gave him massages. A month later, out of the blue, the old man mysteriously handed me a bank card and said, “There’s eight million here. It’s my reward to you.” With that money, I immediately went and paid off my father’s medical bills. Later, the old man went even further and transferred the ownership of the apartment that we were renting to me. He told me, “When your father is discharged, move in together. That way, I’ll have someone to keep me company, too!” When my best friend learned of this, however, she went ballistic. During the few days I was having trouble sleeping, she had secretly spiked my water with a lethal dose of sleeping pills. She watched as I died in agony. After my death, my boyfriend, posing as my fiancé, cut off my father’s medical bills and took away the old man’s bank card. Meanwhile, my best friend spread slanderous rumors among the neighbors, claiming the old man gave me money because I had sold myself to him. Half a year later, the two got married and paid in full for a luxury apartment in the city centre. When I opened my eyes again, I was back on that very day when the old man upstairs was coughing uncontrollably.

I was five months pregnant when my husband, James Fletcher, allowed his mistress to invade our lives—on the very night of our wedding anniversary. But she didn’t just come to flaunt her presence. She came to take my life. Pregnant and vulnerable, I confronted her, desperately clinging to my dignity. But the fight ended with me tumbling down the staircase, my swollen belly crashing against the cold, hard ground. Blood seeped across the floor, vivid and unrelenting. James only arrived after hearing about his precious mistress’ ordeal. He stood there, staring at the pool of blood, at my broken body. But instead of helping me, he rushed to her side. She had nothing but a few superficial scratches, yet he swept her off to the hospital like she was the one dying. By the time he returned, my child was gone. The doctors barely managed to save me. And what did James do? He struck me in front of everyone, his words sharper than the sting of his hand. "Lisa only wanted to bring you a Christmas gift, and you attacked her out of nowhere! You shameless witch!" “She didn’t force her way in! What nonsense! I gave her the house key ages ago. You just can’t stand that she’s prettier and kinder than you!" “You didn’t just hurt her. You killed my child! You vile, despicable woman. Why couldn’t it have been you instead?” Lisa stood beside him, pretending to comfort him while flashing me a smug, victorious smirk. James’s vicious tirade didn’t stop there. He dragged my name onto the internet, painting me as a monster.