Short Message To Myself

Warning: this book contains sexually explicit erotica short stories and is strictly rated 18+ From forbidden age gap romance affairs between stepdad and stepdaughter, stepson, stepmom and stepbrothers Sensual homoerotic affairs and romance ranging from G x G affairs between stepsisters, best friends and neighbours. M x M romance between stepbrothers, stepdad and neighbours, etc. BDSM, and hard-core bondage sex and many more sinful pleasures to be unveiled. If you can handle the heat, then you're welcome.

Warning: Mature content, 18+ Bdsm, Dark and wild romance. In this world, the Omega's moans sound like the beautiful singing of birds, so enchanting and exciting, they make you boil in passion and make you go wild in rut And the Alphas growl and groans bring you down to your knees, make you submit to them, and make you cum in excitement. This is a collection of multiple werewolf erotica short stories. Get ready for the heart-pumping stories that make you explore the worlds of wild intimacy.

"Coach, please stop. I came here to learn how to drive, not to have an affair." Inside the instructor's car, because I kept failing to control the clutch, Coach Reeves, who happened to be my husband's friend, made me sit on his lap to teach me. The problem was, I was wearing a short skirt that day, and underneath it, I wasn't even wearing safety shorts. Even worse, he actually pulled his member out and pressed it straight against me.

It was a remarkable experience that inflicted pain to Pastel Noreignhae Syjuco's life. She suffered torment and trauma in the hands of his ill brother. The life she has wasn't heaven at all. It was purely hell. The wildfire conflagrated flames of relentless dissolvement of her hope to live. Through art, she make used of it as a platform to unchain herself from all the thorns and fangs of life. Symbolic figure calling for help.. Dark colors of nightmare.. A dying flower.. Love.. Yves Honorario deciphers all the embedded message of her art. He was her savior. Her shield. Her hope amidst turmoil. Their love story wont stay forever in a plain portrait. It will be carve in real life.

Adrian Quirrel, the heir to the Quirrel family, had been in poor health since childhood. Guided by the old superstition that marriage could restore his health, his family had taken in four young women, with only one to be chosen as his bride. On the selection day, they invited a renowned astrologer to read our birth charts. As soon as he said I carried a healing energy and could bear healthy heirs, the Quirrels decided on the spot that I would be Adrian's bride. Three months later, his health miraculously improved, and I soon found myself pregnant with twins—a boy and a girl. The family elders were ecstatic and even promised that my son would become the Quirrels' future heir. But on the night of the christening, Adrian locked me and the babies in the basement. I broke down and demanded an explanation. He sneered and replied, "If it weren't for your so-called 'healing energy,' Emily would've been my wife. "She wouldn't have jumped to her death at such a young age if she hadn't been pushed to that point. Tonight, I want you and your children to accompany her in death." He grabbed a nearby iron rod and savagely brought it down onto our babies. I threw myself over the babies, but Adrian kicked me aside. Blood splattered across the walls and floor, and my babies' breathing gradually weakened until it stopped. When I opened my eyes again, I found myself back on the day Adrian chose his bride.

"I didn’t know I was marrying two people. He wore the suit, but she pulled the strings. The day I walked down the aisle, eyes locked with the man I loved, I thought I had found peace. I thought I was finally leaving behind the noise of my childhood, the ache of loneliness, and the years I spent praying for a love that would choose me, only me. But no one told me that some men never truly leave their mothers. They marry, yes,but their hearts remain tangled in an invisible umbilical cord, one that stretches past vows, past bedrooms, past boundaries. I moved into our new home, only to find that the walls had ears, hers. We lived in separate flats, but it never truly felt like my space. My marriage was a room she walked into, uninvited but ever present. Her opinions dripped into our arguments, her eyes followed me from behind lace curtains, and her voice echoed in decisions that should have belonged to me and my husband. At first, I kept quiet. I told myself it was cultural. Respect. Family. Then I told myself it was temporary. Then I stopped telling myself anything at all, because nothing I said made a difference. This is not a story of hate. It’s a story of love, tested by bloodlines, boundaries, and a battle I never asked to fight. This is my truth. The marriage I thought was mine. The home that never really felt like home. And the rules I never agreed to, but had to live by, simply because… I was under her roof".

I never believed in second chances. Not after Cynthia. She was my confidant… until death tore her from me and left this mansion echoing with ghosts. Inilibing ko na rin ang puso ko kasabay ng pakamatay ni Cynthia . She was my wife. My peace. My mistake. Then her daughter moved in. Liza. The forbidden reminder of everything I shouldn’t want—young, alive, reckless in ways her mother never was. She looks at me like she sees through the monster I’ve become. Sa tuwing ngingiti siya,  the ache in my chest returns—violent, dangerous, hungry. Every brush of her skin ignites something I can’t bury anymore. I tell myself it’s guilt. I tell myself I’m just protecting her. Pero ang totoo? I want her. Hindi bilang stepdaughter. Not as Cynthia’s child. I want her as mine—completely, ruinously, irredeemably mine. They’ll call me a sinner. A man who crossed the line. Ngunit sa tuwing tinitingnan ako ni Liza, trembling, wanting... I knew I’d already crossed it. I tell myself I’m protecting her, but each night, the lie weakens. Because when she looks at me, it isn’t fear I see—it’s want. And God help me... I want her too. This isn’t love. It’s a beautiful disaster. And I’d burn the world just to feel her breathe my name again.

"i never know myself until i found you" —zaira "i never know how to love until i found you" —gavin wil there be a happy ending in a world full of violence? may pag-asa paba ang pag-iibigang minsan nang nawasak dahil sa hindi pagkakaintindihan?

On our tenth wedding anniversary, I made a special trip to the salon to have my hair done. While settling the bill, I noticed an extra charge on my account. It was a coloring and perm package. Judging by the price, it was a package meant for waist-length hair. Mine had been cropped short for seven or eight years. I called my husband, Jason Moore. "Have you used my salon membership card recently?" There was a brief pause on the other end of the line before he laughed lightly, "Oh, I lent it to Quincy a few days ago." Quincy Hahn was his business partner, a fine arts student with long hair. She treasured her natural curls more than anything. She would never be willing to dye or perm it. More importantly, her elder sister was a major shareholder of this salon. Why would she ever need to use my card? I said nothing more and ended the call. Then, I headed straight to a location displayed on my phone. In the cafe, a long-haired lady was nestled in Jason's arms. Her freshly permed curls were soft and bouncy, framing her blushed face with certain demureness. Jason had always complained that my short hair made me look rough and manly. I lacked gentleness and charm. It seemed this long-haired lady suited his tastes perfectly.

Sarah Killian is not your average thirty-year-old single woman. Foul-mouthed, mean-spirited, and a text-book-case loner. Also, she is a Professional Serial Killer. But a wrench is thrown into the clockwork of Sarah's comfortable lifestyle when, on her latest assignment, she is forced to take on an apprentice, Bethany—a bubbly, perky, blonde with a severe case of verbal-vomit. In short, Bethany is everything Sarah is not. Will Sarah be able to adjust and work with her new apprentice, or will she break her contract with T.H.E.M. and murder the buxom bimbo? ©️ Crystal Lake Publishing