She Is Mine

Seven days before our wedding, Danny Wagner—my childhood sweetheart—got down on one knee for Mia Kant, the broke girl he'd been sponsoring. Right in front of me and his buddies. I didn't cry. Didn't lose it. Just slapped a smile on my face and said, "Wishing you two a lifetime of happiness." His buddies? Oh, they had the nerve to tell me to be generous and let Danny help Mia finish her "wish list." Danny, unsatisfied and ticked off, said I was overreacting and demanded an apology. Dismissive, he sneered, "I said I'd marry you after Mia's wish list was done. Stop being so unreasonable." I knew this was the last item on her list. I opened my notes app, scrolled to my wish list, and deleted all thirty-three bullet points. Done. Then I made a call. "I'm willing to marry you."

To help my surgeon husband with his erectile dysfunction, I made an appointment with an expert six months in advance. But as the day approached, Isiah Coleman canceled it without explanation. Just as I was about to call him to demand answers, I spotted a post from his female friend on her social media. My usually stoic husband was beaming as he wrapped his arms around her. The caption read: [Only I can cure your illness.] What struck me, though, was the telltale bulge in his pants in the photo—a reaction I'd never seen from him with me. With a cold laugh, I liked the post and left a comment: [What a miracle worker!] The post exploded, with everyone speculating whether I'd confront the mistress. But what awaited him after the holiday was our freshly printed divorce certificate.

He went blank in an instance. Seeing her walk towards his table makes him gone crazy. He wants to deny it but, he misses her. The exact same feeling he has for her six years ago. All kinds of emotions were crawling inside him, hatred, longing and fear, all mixed in one. She’s still the same exact person I used to know, the person I used to love. “Please be seated” she said, as she helps herself to sit. “… it’s been a while, how have you been A-chi?” she asks casually. “ Well as you can see, I’m all good until you come back… Tell me, kaya ka ba bumalik kasi wala ka na namang choice.” I can’t suppress sarcasm. “I may be that special to you, but I suggest you forget about the past, that would be better.” she said, as she sips from her glass. “Tell me, how am I suppose to forget when it was actually part of the reason why we were here, right now. Wow! I didn’t know you have the guts.” I said mockingly. “It was just a formality…” “O’o para sayo, kasi hindi ka nasaktan, hindi ka naiwan, hindi ikaw ang naka-miss limang taon sa buhay ng anak mo! And just so you know, I already have a fiancé.” I said in anger. “Do you love her?” I ask seriously. “Were you asking me that, because you were still confident na may feelings parin ako sayo?” I ask, because I found her unbelievable. “ If you were confident about yourself, you will give me an answer not a question. The fact that you ask me that, means you were shaken.” She said with a straight eye. “ You were still heartless!” I can not help to comment.

For five years of marriage, David was the perfect husband everyone envied. He gave me endless gold cards and pampering, only when mentioning children, his eyes were bone-chillingly cold. Until the day I was diagnosed with a brain tumor and accidentally got pregnant, I broke his lie that had lasted five years: he never traveled on business, but secretly financed a flower shop called “Sylvia” without telling me. The girl in the shop, Emry, had a face identical to my sister‘s, and she stroked her slightly protruding belly, calling him “baby‘s dad” coquettishly. I chose to leave [Three years later] I became the most dazzling new star in Milan‘s architecture world. When we met again, I appeared at a celebrity dinner on the arm of my real brother Eric, with a child beside me who had a pair of eyes exactly like his. This once cold and aloof plutocrat now stopped my car in the rain. He knelt in the mud with red eyes, tugging on the corner of my skirt, and begged humbly, “Alice, please... look at me again.” I just gently brushed the child‘s broken hair from his forehead, without even pausing to glance at him. “Sir, you‘ve mistaken me for someone else. My husband died in that fire three years ago.”

Three days after I died, my fiancé got a call to ID the body. He just scoffed. "She's dead, so what? Call me when she's in the ground." The cops, out of options, hit up my backup contact—my childhood friend. He actually laughed. "She's really gone? Not my problem. Burn her or whatever." Then my body hit the internet— And suddenly, both of them looked like ghosts.

At the moment, my dick was gracefully ready start working with her pussy, she felt a little be shy, but when I rubbed onto her and dipped two fingers in it, my shyness was replaced with intense pleasure, fuck it felt too good to ignore. “Ahhh,” she moaned, as i slipped the third finger into her pussy. “I will ensure you come for me six times before calling it a day,” I said, huskily. came to my front, while he kept fingering her pussy, mercilessly. I forcefully pushed my hard cock into her mouth, till it touched the back of my throat. “Suck it,” i instructed and without thinking, she started sucking my cock, while I fingered from behind. The pleasure was intense, her legs began to shake, and she couldn't suck any further, she just wanted to moan, but my cock prevented her. When i noticed she couldn't suck my cock any further, I started fucking her mouth, while my fingers fucked her asshole. “You have a fucking nice ass, and I would enjoy fucking it,” I grunted, pressing his fingers in my pussy. Soon, she was coming all over the place, and my eyes had already rolled back, but that didn't make me stop fingering or mouth fucking me. I fucked her mouth till my come fills them. “Drink it,” I instructed and in one swallow my cum was down her throat and to be honest…. She want more? As she shakes with pleasure, her moan turns deep, and she whispers, “She wants more”—a need that will break everything apart. will this forbidden ecstasy unravel their secrets or seal their fate?

When Elena Rodriguez fled her abusive billionaire husband while pregnant, she thought she'd never see Alexander Blackwood again. Eight months later, a catastrophic accident steals his memories—erasing six years, including their marriage and the monster he became. The man who wakes up is Alexander at 27: kind, humble, horrified by evidence of his paranoid jealousy and controlling behavior. As he embarks on an amends tour, apologizing to everyone he hurt, Elena watches the man she once loved fight to become worthy of redemption. But Elena harbors a secret: their daughter, Sofia. When circumstances force them together at the hospital, Alexander meets his child for the first time—and Elena must decide if she can forgive a man who doesn't remember his crimes. As Alexander's memories gradually return, both face an impossible question: Can someone truly change, or will he become the monster again? With Sofia's future hanging in the balance, Elena must choose between protecting her heart and believing in second chances. Some scars run too deep. Some loves refuse to die.

She was reborn soft, sweet, and touched — surrounded by women who never learned to let go. Evangeline “Eva” Claire Maxwell — Lioré was once a brilliant, overworked woman from a cold, futuristic world. When exhaustion finally claimed her, she didn’t expect to wake up as a baby in the arms of luxury — a second chance in a modern world where time moved slower, kisses came warmer, and desire wore velvet gloves. In a world without magic, desire is its own spell. And love? It’s the most dangerous kind of possession.

On the day of the SAT exam, my girlfriend’s childhood friend, Benedict Casper, forgot his admission ticket at home. She insisted on retrieving it for him, but I begged her not to go. In the end, Benedict missed his final chance for taking the exam and, overwhelmed by despair, he jumped to his death. Years later, my girlfriend, Ella Simpson, and I graduated from Whitmore Institute of Technology, landed high-paying jobs, and built a picture-perfect marriage. But on the anniversary of Benedict’s death, she stabbed me repeatedly, her voice trembling with rage, “You killed him. If I’d gotten his admission ticket, he would’ve never jumped.” When I opened my eyes again, I was back on the day of the exams. Ella’s frantic voice rang in my ears, “I have to go back, Dominic. I need to get Benedict’s ticket!” This time, I smiled and said, “Go ahead. Be careful on the way.”

My wolf had been wounded by silver. It took me two years to find a rare herbal cure. But before I could use it, my mate, Gary, gave it away—without hesitation—to my adopted sister, the Black clan’s darling, Jane. The healer told me I had only one week left to live. So, I made a decision: I would freeze my body. Preserve it. I donated myself to Jane’s Werewolf Research Facility—the one she took such pride in. The day I signed the donation agreement, my pup threw himself into my arms and said, “Mommy and Aunt Jane are finally getting along again!” My parents praised me, saying I had finally learned what sisterhood meant. Gary looked relieved. “You’ve finally let go of your resentment,” he said. “I’m proud of you.” I smiled faintly. Yes. I’ve finally learned to obey. I would return the title of Black clan heiress to Jane, and did my best to grant everyone their wishes. But it was only when they realized I could no longer fight back— when my body had been sealed away in cryostasis, cold and silent— that the regret began. Suddenly, they wanted to bleed for me. They wanted to compensate. They wanted to follow me into the grave. But where were they when I needed them, when I was still alive?