Sinful Dress

On Benedict Bradford’s birthday, he posted a link on social media with a taunting offer: [$1.99 buys you a prank—target: Sansa Stormcloud.] So when I arrived at his party, the guests drenched me in water, hurled glasses, smashed cake in my face, and shoved me down the stairs. Benedict sneered as he stood over me, arm slung around Lina Kipling. “You think you’re fit to marry into the Bradfords? Pathetic. “You’re not even in Lina’s league. You’re worth nothing more than a couple of dollars!” I picked myself up, dusted off my dress, and handed him an invitation. “You know, Benedict, the Bradfords have another heir. “And shortly afterwards, you’ll address me respectfully as your sister-in-law.”

He pushed me to the wall and quickly guided me with both hands so that I couldn't escape "You are going no where, you can't escape from me today. I must have you, your body and soul is mine!" "please stop this, I have a boyfriend!". "Boyfriend? From today onwards, I will be the only one to make love to you". He tore the front part of my dress, revealing my bra that was holding my huge firm breasts in place. I attempted to cover up myself and run away but his grip on my hands was too strong. I kicked him at his manhood area and he was weakened and finally, I could escape. But as I ran to the door and tried to open it, I realized that it was locked with its key removed!!

He left her at the altar. She returned with his child and the power to ruin him. Arabella Monroe steps into the boardroom with ice in her veins and a little girl by her side who has Roman Callahan’s exact eyes. Seven years ago, she stood in a wedding dress, humiliated and pregnant, as Roman vanished without a word. Now, the tables have turned. Roman’s tech empire is crumbling. Hers is rising faster, louder, and unstoppable. And the one patent that could save his company? Arabella owns it. She came for business. She came for blood. But when old sparks reignite and buried betrayals claw their way back, Arabella must decide: Can she destroy the man who broke her without breaking what’s left of her heart?

A gasp escaped past her lips when she felt his tongue licking her skin where her neck meets her shoulder. Her heart drummed in her ears. Her chin quivering and her body trembling. A jolt of electrifying jolts ran down her body as his lips gave soft feathery kisses on her neck. She was a nervous mush in his arms. "Sweet," He rasped in his deep baritone voice. She stiffened, even more, when his nose caressed her jawline and he inhaled her scent. She was squished against his hard muscular chest and all she could feel and inhale was him. His big veiny hands, his muscular steel-like arms around her waist, and his sinful lips. "Your scent...mhmm... so f*cking addicting," a growl reverberated from his chest. "S...stop," She stuttered. "Shss..." The rough pad of his thumb caressed her lips.

Colter Giordano, my fiancé of six years, heir to the Giordano family, took a bullet for a dancer named Mia. He didn't take one for me. A bullet tore through my shoulder. Blood bloomed across my dress, hot and sticky. But my heart hurt worse. He asked if I was okay. Just once. Then he rushed Mia to the hospital, leaving me bleeding on the floor. The next day, Mia's picture popped up on my Instagram feed. There she was, in a luxury hospital suite. Colter was fussing over a scratch on her arm that was barely there. The caption was just two words: "My Hero." I liked the post. Then I made an encrypted call. "The Falcone family's offer," I said. "I'm taking it. Get me on a plane to Sicily. Three days."

At Ryder Quinn’s kindergarten parent-child sports day, I expected my husband, Michael Quinn, to be away on a business trip. Instead, I found Michael on stage, dressed in a ballet tutu, dancing as one of the "little swans" in the fathers’ performance. I had barely taken a step forward when a little girl in a floral dress darted into his arms, calling out to him in the sweetest voice, "Daddy!" There they stood: Michael, his assistant, Janine Carter, and her daughter—all in matching family outfits. The moment our eyes met, Michael quickly pulled away from her, fumbling for an excuse. "Janine’s a single mom. It isn’t easy for her. I was just helping out." I smiled, cold and steady, and handed him the divorce papers. "Then, do me a favor too, Michael. Stop wasting my youth."

Michelle sat in silence in the corner of the room, covered in wounds. Her white dress had now turned red as blood. Her hands held the part that squeezed between her groin, a pain she could not endure after serving her master's lust as a slave girl. The life of that nineteen-year-old girl truly felt like hell. Until Damien, a noble-class vampire, a ruler known to be very cruel and respected, comes and saves her. But instead of getting a worse life, Michelle is treated more nobly than a princess. What is the true identity of the noble-class vampire with the title 'Sir Damien Blackheart'? Why could he be so kind to Michelle, a human slave who was even considered the lowest slave among the other slaves? And what secret is Damien keeping that the other vampire nobles don't know?

Dallas wishes she could travel back in time. She would prevent her six year old self from wandering into the forest and keep her from finding Lucy. Unfortunately, she did wander off and she did find Lucy. From that very first day, Lucy takes or gets what belongs to Dallas. Her favorite doll, the last gift from her Mother. Her dress for the Scarlet Ball, she bought with money she had earned herself. Her Mother's necklace, a family heirloom. Dallas has put up with all of it, because everyone keeps reminding her of the fact that Lucy has no one and nothing. Dallas swears revenge on the day she finds her Mate in bed with Lucy. Shadow Valley Pack will regret pushing Dallas aside for Lucy.

“What do you want from me, Don? I'm your wife.” My voice trembled as the reality of what Alessandro might do to me settled in like a forest fog. “Exactly what I should get knowing how talented your mother was.” He growled, not sounding at all like the man I loved, while he unzipped his dress pants. Sure, I wanted to get laid but not like this. ~~~ To Don Alessandro Moretti, Elena is nothing more than a tool of vengeance. The daughter of the woman who once shattered his father’s empire. But what Alessandro doesn’t know is this: The amnesiac woman he married is no lamb—she's the top assassin and hacker of a phantom organisation. And when her memories return… All hell will break loose.

Seavora City, Carmoria. Nathan Ziegler's side chick, Sophie, was melting down—again. He shoved the divorce papers at me. "Just sign. It's for show. Gotta keep her calm." I clutched my dress, gave a small nod, and signed. No fuss. No scene. As I turned to leave, one of his buddies snorted, "Joelle's way too obedient. Bet she'd fetch the divorce decree if you asked." Nathan lit a cigarette, smirking. "Wanna bet?" To them, I was still the silent pushover. The girl who'd cry in court but still do what she's told. Trade one paper for another—marriage for divorce. I stared at my phone. The message I'd received earlier: [Why don't you just marry me?] I typed back: [Okay.]