Shrek Butt Cake

My husband had lost interest in me for many years. My son's classmate taught me how to flirt with my husband. However, when he was doing so, he placed a hand on my butt and said, "Open up, Mrs. Jackson!"

Victor murmured 'Happy Birthday Misha' as he fed me a small piece of cake. Wait! Why was he sounding so husky all of a sudden? Stop it! As usual, I was imagining things. I shook my head as I sliced a piece of cake with cherry and tried to feed him. But the icing was soft, and the cake began to slip away from my fingers. Victor grabbed my hand...(Oh my! I will remember this day forever!)... Closed his mouth around the cake and my fingers! And a hot rush which started somewhere in my core began to spread inside with lightning speed and I felt my cheeks burn. His mouth was so warm and his lips, they were everything I imagined them to be, and more. My lips parted as I watched him close his eyes and lick my fingers. There was something so sensual and possessive about it that I began to wonder the same thing all over again. Does Mr Popular and youngest pilot from his academy, Victor Matthews finally got a clue that I have been secretly in love with him all these years?

When love is repaid with humiliation, pain turns into strength. Aruna came carrying medicine and a slice of birthday cake for the man she loved—Revan. But when she arrived at his house, what she found was not the warm smile she had longed for, but a sight that shattered her heart: Revan kneeling down, proposing to another woman in front of everyone. The medicine she had bought with her hard-earned money was thrown away. The cake she had made with love was crushed underfoot without mercy. And Aruna… was left behind without an explanation—only pain and a pride torn to pieces. On her way home, an accident took not only her strength but also the life of the unborn child she carried within her.

During a charity gala, my boyfriend bids on a pair of matching watches but gives one of them to his true love. The media excitedly capture the scene and ask, "You bought a million-dollar watch without even batting an eye, Mr. Loewe. You've been single all these years—is it time for you to make an official announcement on your relationship status?" Everyone off stage applauds him, and I join them. I give him my blessings for his so-called announcement. To make it up to me, he attends my birthday celebration. Yet he pushes me into the cake to make his true love happy. Unbeknownst to him, there's a steel rack in the cake to keep it steady. I end up bloodied and on the brink of death.

On our third wedding anniversary, I received a cake from my husband. It had the names Clarisse Burke and Antonio Carey written on it, along with Happy Third Anniversary. But I felt like I'd been plunged into ice. That wasn't my name. Clarisse was his secretary. Sure enough, I saw my cake in Clarisse Burke's latest post, labeled Iva Grant and Antonio Carey. [Three years, and someone's already treating me like his wife.] Below, there was a comment. [Delete that post! The cakes got mixed up. Don't let Iva find out.] That was when I realized he had planned every romantic surprise in pairs. Holding my phone, I laughed at his pathetic attempt to cover it up. But I was done. I started planning my exit.

On my 16th birthday, I treat myself to the most delicious cake I can find. On that day, before I can even take a bite, my parents, who are always at odds with each other, sign their divorce papers right in front of me. So, on my wedding day, I tell my wife, Keira Jarrett, "If you ever want a divorce, just get me a birthday cake." She hugs me tightly and promises me."Don't worry. 'Birthday' won't even be a word in our home anymore." Seven years later, on Keira's birthday, her assistant, Jackson Price, throws her a surprise party. She slaps him across his handsome, gentle face and kicks him out of Jarrett Group. That day, I am convinced I have chosen the right woman for life. But three months later, on my birthday, I find out the supposedly fired Jackson has been promoted to Keira's personal secretary. He personally delivers a custom-made birthday cake to me. I call Keira to demand an explanation, but her voice on the other end is cold and distant. "Jack meant well. Don't be a spoilsport." I freeze for a moment, then hang up. It turns out my parents are right all along. The only way a birthday cake tastes right is when it's served with divorce papers.

‼️🔞WARNING: Readers advisory. Sex, Smut, Cravings, Cock, Temptation all packed in one erotic adventure!! I have always imagined my 34-year old stepdad behind me fucking me, kissing the nape of my neck slowly, deliciously, hands gripping on my waist pulling my flush to him. I arched my back for more pressing my butt cheeks on his erection. Fuck. I could feel the way the buldge press against my butt, making my pussy swollen and aching for more, instinctively I moved my hips grinding slowly to ease the painful desire I felt. Wanted him to reach for my nipple, squeeze and pinch until a small moan escaped my lips, slowly let his tongue slid down from my neck to my breast. Craved for him to stop then gave a wicked smile and suddenly grab my nipple in his mouth sucking and biting it. My body trembled. Not from fear. But want. Pleasure. My thighs glistened, stained from sheer arousal. Who says love can't draw you to the forbidden one. Olivia has always been obsessed with her stepfather- Lucian. A 34 year old with a cock that would rip her into pieces, But still she yearns for him, Craves for him. Join the smut fun!

Shane Flanagan is Prince of the City and all-around badass; that is until he comes up against Arianna Rossi, the young spitfire with nothing but guts and determination on her side. They butt heads at every turn as they each battle for dominance. Who will be the victor in this tug of war as they circle each other while keeping their enemies at bay? Shane, the tough young don? Or Ari, the mouthy younger woman with a truckload of secrets?The Spitfire was created by Jordan Silver an eGlobal Creative Publishing Signed Author.

Our pup, Kyle Draven, is burning with a fever of 104 degrees Fahrenheit. His small body convulses as he cries out for his father. But my husband, the Alpha, doesn't care. Julian Draven ignores our son's suffering because Kyle's cries might disturb his precious Linda Griffin. "Linda's trying on evening gowns. Stop using Kyle to get my attention. You're pathetic." Linda deliberately monopolizes my husband's time, then shows up with cake for Kyle like she's some saint. When Kyle eats it, he vomits black-purple blood. The cake had Wolfsbane. I confront her, desperate for answers, but Julian responds with a vicious slap and crushes me under his Alpha authority. "Linda wouldn't hurt a fly. How could she poison anyone? You clearly framed her. What kind of mother poisons her own pup?" He shatters my spine and throws both me and our dying pup into the Borderlands. Just as he gives the order to kill us, a roar erupts from deep within the forest—the kind that makes every beast submit. My childhood friend has returned.

Here's a piece of advice—do not catch the eye of those pretty salesgirls who sell supplements. You have no idea the things they'll do to close a deal. I become a yummy slice of cake in their eyes; they all want a bite of me. I'm faced with the seduction and allure of countless beauties, but it doesn't make me happy at all.