Slcls Genre Study

Serene’s heart raced as she stood in Nicholas’s dimly lit study, the scent of leather and whiskey heavy in the air. She’d been dusting the bookshelves when he entered, his presence filling the room like a storm. Now, he stood inches away, his black suit hugging his broad shoulders, his dark mullet framing a gaze that burned with intent. “You missed a spot,” he murmured, his voice a low growl, pointing to a shelf she’d already cleaned. Her cheeks flushed as she turned, the hem of her maid uniform riding up her thighs. “I-I’ll get it, Mr. Volkov,” she stammered, reaching up, but his hand caught her wrist, firm yet gentle. “No,” he said, stepping closer, his breath warm against her ear. “Let me show you.” His fingers slid down her arm, leaving a trail of heat, before guiding her hand to the shelf. His chest pressed against her back, and she gasped at the hardness of his body, the evidence of his arousal unmistakable. “You’re trembling, little maid,” he whispered, his lips brushing her neck, sending shivers down her spine. “Do I scare you… or do I excite you?” Her breath hitched as his free hand trailed up her thigh, slipping beneath the lace of her uniform. “Mr. Volkov…” she whimpered, but her protest melted into a moan as his fingers found her, teasing her through the thin fabric of her panties. “ Nicholas,” he corrected, his voice rough with desire, his touch growing bolder, circling her most sensitive spot until her knees buckled. “Say it,” he demanded, nipping her earlobe. “N-Nicholas,” she gasped, her body arching into him, surrendering to the fire he’d ignited. In that moment, the billionaire and his naive maid were bound by a hunger neither could deny.

Bah voilà jme présente ! Moi, c'est Zaïna, orpheline, j'ai 15 ans, je suis Comorienne mais avant tous Musulmane. Malheureusement je ne sais pas pratiquer. J'y connais rien. On ne m'a jamais apprise. On m'a poser à mes 1 ans apparemment. Bref ma vie jvous la racontera après. Bref physiquement ? Jfais 1m60, un truck comme ça ! J'ai une couleur de peau matte. J'ai un corps normal et les formes la où il faut. J'ai les yeux marron claiiiir qui vire au marron foncé quand jsuis énervé. Les cheveux noir/marron, tous est en fonction du soleil. A l'ombre tu les verras noir et au soleil tu les verras marron. Bref ils sont long et y'a beaucoup de volume ! Mais personne sais. C'est chignon ou natte, jamais je les montre. Bref assez parler dmon physique. Jsuis une meuf genre qui parl pas, qui calcule personne mais quand il faut j'ai une grosse bouche et sa peut aller loin en deux quatre six. Dans cette orphelinat, jparle à dégun depuis le drame (A suivre...). On m'appelle même la "muette". Ok leur délire mais m'en bas les couilles je leur répond pas. J'ai un coeur en pierre, double portes blindé, double serrure et trois codes. Rien ne m'atteint à part mon passer mais personne la connait. Bref mes journées se passe comme ça: Réveille => école => boxe => chambre et je bouge plus de la journée. Ah oui oui depuis cette incident j'ai décidé de plus me laisser faire. Mes parents ? Même vu pas jparle. Ils m'ont abandonné dès ma naissance tsssss et voilà ou je suis maintenant DANS UN ORPHELINAT DE MERDE . A suivre...

SPIN OFF FREL. Genre :YOUNG ADULT (YA). DARA itu ... miss alay yang super lebay, ratunya drama, narsis, berisiknya ngalahin mesin diesel, nggak tahu malu, PD-nya di atas rata-rata kecuali sama warna kulitnya. Dia anaknya juga nekat, suka banget sama martabak telur, tipikal cewek agresif, centilnya na'udzubillah, manusia abnormal yang mempunyai ide-ide gila di kepala, tetapi mudah dimanipulasi terutama sama kakaknya sendiri. Mottonya "Mati satu tumbuh seribu", alhasil ketika gagal mendapatkan satu cowok dia bisa begitu mudah berpindah ke cowok lain. Contohnya aja, saat dia udah benar-benar menyerah mengejar cowok yang katanya ganteng level dewa, cowok keren sepanjang masa—Kenn—lalu dengan cepatnya ia mencari target lain bernama Ari, kakak kelasnya. Masalahnya, Ari tuh sejenis cowok baik-baik dan polos, harus terpaksa berhadapan dengan cewek genit yang imajinasinya luar biasa liar. Dara yang terlalu menginginkan untuk diakui dan tidak ingin dianggap sampah seperti perlakuan mantan-mantannya sebelumnya, kini menganggap Ari sebagai harta karun. Apa pun ia lakukan demi mempertahankan sebuah hubungan. Hingga beberapa kali nekat mengintip hubungan orang dewasa antara Inez dan kakaknya. Ia hanya tidak tahu ada penyebab tragis tentang masa lalu yang membuat Inez berubah menjadi super agresif. Pertanyaannya, masa lalu kelam apa yang membuat Inez menjadi seperti itu? Apa penyebab yang membawanya kabur dari rumah dan bersedia menerima tawaran Rian untuk bersamanya? Ketika sang pelaku muncul kembali dan meneror dirinya, akankah Inez mampu menghadapinya? Bantuan apa yang akan dilakukan Dara? Juga, bagaimana nanti nasib Ari di tangan Dara? Alasan apa yang membuat Ari mau berpacaran sama Dara? Mungkin karena lagi kesurupan atau memang sedang beneran khilaf? Apakah Ari sanggup menyadarkan Dara bahwa ada beberapa batasan yang tidak bisa dilampaui oleh hubungan remaja seperti mereka? Baca serta buktikan, segokil dan seseru apa cerita mereka.

Warning 18+ Judul : QUEEN: I LOVE YOU PAPA Genre : Romantis Dewasa Cerita kedua dari ‘My Sweet Young Husband’ Bijaklah dalam membaca….., terdapat unsur kekerasan dan kaka-kata umpatan kasar dan mungkin juga vulgar serta beberapa adegan khusus kakak-kakak kece di beberapa partnya. Sebelum baca cerita ini sebaiknya baca ‘My Sweet Young Husband’. ********** Alesha Queenara Agustaf harus menerima takdir, berpisah dari keluarga dan mengalami amnesia pasca kecelakaan yang menimpa mobil yang ia tumpangi. Kehidupan Alesha berubah ketika ia menjadi Nabilla Fathiyah Hasanah, dan hidup dalam keluarga yang sangat sederhana. Beruntung bapak angkatnya sangat menyayanginya, namun kasih sayang itu hanya sekejab saja. Bapak angkatnya harus meninggalkannya untuk selama-lamanya setelah mengetahui kelakuan sang ibu. Setelah kepergian bapaknya, Nabilla harus bersabar menghadapi ibu dan kakaknya. Bahkan di saat bunga di pusara sang bapak belum mengering, ibunya tanpa rasa berdosa membawa teman pria ke rumah dan tanpa rasa bersalah kembali mengotori hargadirinya dan keluarga demi nafsu dan segepok rupiah. Penderitaan Nabilla tidak berhenti di situ saja, isak tangis karena perbuatan ibu dan kakak angkatnya yang memperlakukan dirinya tidak manusiawi, siksaan dan dipaksa kerja keras. Padahal kala itu Nabilla hanyalah siswi SMA, jangan lupakan pekerjaan sang ibu sebagai pemuas nafsu pria kurang belaian memaksa Nabilla harus memasang benteng agar tidak terjatuh ke dalam lembah hitam seperti sang kakak. Sayangnya benteng yang sudah dibangun kokoh oleh Nabilla harus dirobohkan paksa oleh sang ibu, yang menjualnya ke pada seorang mucikari dan akan dipekerjakan sebagai pemuas pria kurang belaian. Akankah gadis yang istiqomah dengan jilbabnya itu bakal terjatuh dan menyelami lembah hitam penuh dosa? Atau Nabilla yang sebenarnya merupakan Queen di keluarga Agustaf akan kembali merasakan kebahagiaan dan terbebas dari penderitaan sesuai doa yang selalu ia panjatkan dalam setiap sujudnya? Dan jangan lupakan kisah cinta Nabilla yang tumbuh subur kepada seseorang yang tidak semestinya ia cintai ‘kira-kira siapa ya?’.

Tayo, un jeune homme âgé de 24 ans qui vivait avec ses parents, avait fait tout son possible pour obtenir un boulot après avoir pu obtenir tous ses diplômes étant très jeune. Mais n'arrivant pas à trouver un boulot, ce jeune très ambitieux se sentait tellement mal à l'aise malgré qu'il avait ses parents qui étaient présents pour lui. Il se voyait incapable à satisfaire ses propres besoins lui-même et dépendait toujours de ses parents. Grâce aux conseils de sa mère et de son meilleur ami Richy, il arrivait à prendre son mal en patience. Tayo qui se battait dans le but de réaliser son rêve, s'était mis dans la tempête de l'amour lorsqu'il avait rencontré Rosy. Une belle et séduisante femme que Tayo voulait à tout prix, parce qu'il était fou amoureux d'elle. Mais Rosy, ne voyait pas du tout Tayo, pour elle, Tayo n'est pas à la hauteur pour être son genre d'homme. Elle ridiculise Tayo et le traite de tous les noms, tout juste à cause de l'amour que ce dernier a pour lui. Tayo se disait qu'il n'avait de la chance en rien et qu'il était poursuivi par la méchanceté en ignorant que l'amour de sa vie était bien à ses côtés. Oui, Grâce, une des camarades que Tayo avait à l'Université, était follement amoureuse de lui, sans que Tayo ne le sache. Mais il suffit que Grâce vienne redorer le monde de Tayo pour que Rosy refait surface en disant qu'elle est amoureuse de lui. Sachant que Tayo était fou amoureux de Rosy, quel serait le choix de ce dernier ? Reste à voir dans le développement de notre belle histoire bourrée de la pure romance.

A month before the SATs, I, Jenny Reid, could see my score. Literally. It was just floating right above my head. But there was a catch. Every time I cracked open a prep book, my score would drop by ten points. But if I skipped a day of school? It jumped right back up by ten. So, I played the system. For a whole month, I barely lifted a finger. And on the day of the test, the number glowing over my head was a solid 1560. When the scores finally dropped online… I'd scored a 500. And the 1560? That was my little sister Patricia's score. My parents lost it. As punishment, they got me a grueling night-shift job at a local electronics factory. That first night, a bunch of guys I'd never seen before cornered me in the parking lot and beat me half to death. Fading in and out of consciousness, I heard my sister's voice right by my ear. "You just had to one-up me, didn't you? Thought you were so smart… but you never figured out I was the one controlling that number over your head." The truth hit me like a physical blow. The score had been her trick all along. I opened my eyes—and I was back. One month before the SATs. The number above my head read exactly 1300. "Hey," my sister said, all fake sweetness. "Want to study together tonight? We can go over the practice tests." I looked at the stack of papers in my own hands. Without a word, I pulled out my lighter and set them on fire right there in the driveway. "Exams are coming," I said, watching the flames. "I'm not studying." My score ticked up to 1310. My sister's face was this perfect mask of disappointment, but the second I turned away, I caught the sly smile she couldn't quite hide. She had no idea… the real performance, the one I'd been rehearsing just for her, was finally about to begin.

The day the Thorne family announced our engagement, the New York underworld let out a collective sigh of relief. Because I was set to marry Daemon, the most straitlaced Don in the city, which meant I could no longer be the wild rose who tore up the racetrack. But I resisted with every fiber of my being, finding creative ways to test his limits. During his ten-million-dollar card game with a rival family's Capo, my hand "slipped" and sent a bottle of 1945 Romanee-Conti spilling across the ancient map that outlined their territories, sabotaging the entire negotiation. Daemon, however, just slowly and deliberately wiped the wine from the back of his hand. He didn't even frown as he cleaned up my mess. Then I "accidentally" let my spirited Arabian stallion loose in his immaculately manicured courtyard. The beast went wild, trampling his prize-winning rose garden into mud. But he arrived with his private doctor in tow, crouching before me as his long fingers gently traced the scratch on my arm. "Did the beast hurt you?" Just that one question, and my heart melted completely. "Daemon, I can marry you. But before that, has there ever been another woman who owned your heart?" "I don't share my man. Not in any way." He pointed to his heart, his gaze unwavering as he met my eyes. "Before you, this was empty." After we married, the word on the street in New York's circles of power was this: If you angered Don Thorne, his Donna might plead your case. But if you angered the Donna, you were on your own. Even I began to believe that Daemon, that mountain of ice, would eventually melt for me. Until the day I went to find him, clutching a positive pregnancy test, bursting with joy. Only to hear the family's Consigliere ask him, from the top-floor study, what the best lie he'd ever told was. Daemon chuckled and said casually, "She asked me if anyone had my heart before her." "I told her no."

When I was seven years old, my younger brother went into anaphylactic shock after sneaking a handful of peanuts. Outside the emergency room, my mother slammed my head against the wall over and over, her face twisted with rage. "If you had been watching him like you were supposed to be, this never would have happened! You should be the one with a ruptured stomach, not him!" After that, whenever my brother so much as caught a cold, my mother forced me to eat spoiled leftovers as punishment. I once prepared an elaborate feast. She flipped the entire table and made me crawl on the floor to lick it clean. When I said I wanted to study culinary arts, she poured hot oil over my hands. My father wanted to send me to vocational school to learn a trade, but my mother clutched my brother to her chest and wailed. "She destroyed her brother's health! She owes him a lifetime of service!" When I was fifteen, my brother's gluttony cost my father an important business deal. I took the blame without even being asked, and the furious client forced me to drink more than half a gallon of hard liquor. By the time I was sent home with a bleeding stomach, my father had already scolded my brother. My mother took out her anger on me instead, slapping me so hard my ears rang and my vision went dark at the edges. "You useless thing! You should’ve choked to death at that table! I get sick just looking at you!" I coughed up black blood. From my pocket, I pulled out a piece of sour candy that had gone soft and sticky. It was the only treat my mother had ever given me with a smile, back before my brother's allergic reaction. I put the candy in my mouth and swallowed it down with the taste of stomach acid. The candy was so sour it made my throat burn. Whatever came next, I just hoped I would not have to be my family’s garbage disposal again.

The day I found out I was pregnant with my second child, the impossible happened: the baby in my womb spoke. "Stupid sister, are you even listening? Mom said that as soon as you graduate, she's selling you off. That money is for my future wedding!" My daughter went still. She didn't say a word, didn't confront me, didn't even cry. She just quietly applied to study abroad. And from that day on, I never heard from her again. My husband, seeing how devastated I was, moved to comfort me. But the baby's voice cut through the silence once more. "Comfort her? You're the biggest fool in this house! When I'm born, I'm not calling you 'Dad.' My real dad is that handsome guy from the bar!" The color drained from Sean's face. Before I could utter a word of explanation, he dragged me straight to the hospital for a paternity test. The results came back quickly—my best friend had pulled some strings to expedite them. And there it was, in cold, clinical print: NO PATERNITY BIOLOGICALLY ESTABLISHED. He didn't let me speak. He filed for divorce immediately. In a panic, the baby's voice cried out from inside me again, "Why is the idiot backing out now? Did he finally figure out Mom tricked him? The one who saved his life all those years ago wasn't her—it was her best friend!" That one sentence shattered my entire world. My husband turned his back on me and married my best friend. As for me… the shock and grief hit me like a physical blow. I felt a hot, sudden gush of blood. Before the doctors could save me, I died on that cold hospital bed, my hands clutching my swollen belly, my mind still reeling, unable to comprehend how my life had unraveled so completely. It wasn't until I was reborn, and once again heard the treacherous little voice inside me, that I finally began to understand the truth.

My name is Violet. I was the consigliere to the Leon mafia family in New York, and I wrote the rules of this city’s underworld myself. Yet, the man I had kept by my side for ten years, Drake Leon, was now trampling all over them. Ten years was more than enough time for a stray dog to grow into a wolf that can stand on its own. A decade ago, he was hacked to pieces by enemies on the streets of Brooklyn. Covered in blood, he crawled to me like a dying dog. I took him in. I put a gun in his hand. I taught him the rules of the mafia. Step by step, using my position as the Leon mafia family’s consigliere, I groomed him to become the boss of the Manhattan port district. Ten years later, he controlled the most valuable port under the Leon family for me, and for another woman, he framed her in standing grace. When that girl named Lina showed up pregnant, wearing the blue diamond necklace my mother left me, and sat in the seat that was supposed to be mine, I didn’t lose my temper. Instead, I had someone take the pathology report from the hospital, along with the child, seal them in a gift box, and deliver them to Drake’s new estate. Half an hour later, the study door was kicked open. He stormed in, drenched in night rain, carrying the scent of gunpowder. The barrel of his gun pressed straight against my forehead. “Violet.” He stared at me, his eyes bloodshot. “You touch her child, and I’ll make sure you’re buried with her.” I stayed seated by the fireplace. I didn’t move. I simply pushed a document to the center of the table. “Don’t rush into madness.” I looked up at him and continued, “As of fifteen minutes ago, I’ve frozen three warehouses under your name, two shipping routes, and seven offshore accounts.” Only then did his expression finally change. I smiled faintly, my voice soft. “Drake, you seem to have forgotten something. The reason for your accomplishments today isn’t because you know how to pull a trigger. It’s because I allowed you to live.”