Sour Cream Container

"You do know that being my maid makes you my property and I can do whatever I want with you." He put a finger to her chin and tilted her head upwards. "Anything I want ..." She looked at him trembling. These days she had spent with him were scary. He truly was the devil. "I'm not your toy", she managed to say. "According to my contract, you are...", he said dangerously. She was dealt the wrong cards. She is already in a world of pain. Her body ached terribly. He grabbed her bruised body and dragged her... Lilian Mendez picked pockets for a living. She did whatever she needed to do to survive. Life was tough so she had to be tougher which meant making tough decisions. After a failed attempt at stealing from the wealthy at a luxurious gala event, she finds herself the property of Mr. Damian Richards, the multi-billionaire businessman, a handsome yet sour personality, and a no nonsense man. He was every girl's dream. Every girl lusted and drooled over him but he never looked their way. He them. He had no time for love. Lilian becomes his maid to make up for stealing from him. She hated everything about him. He was just another arrogant, rich moron. Men like him were only good for their money and nothing else. She wanted nothing more to do with him than to hopefully get out of his place in one piece. She was nobody's toy or plaything. However, over time, boundaries are broken and feelings are shared and grown. Is Lilian finally the woman to tie this eligible bachelor down or is it all a play to get rich off him?

I clutch the face basin, the cool ceramic easing the warmth that's spreading from my sweaty palms to the rest of my body. My body freezes when I feel his weight against my front. His knee directly pressing against my heated crotch, it isn't ungentlemanly, he's doing it in a way that seems like he's unaware that he is doing it — if that makes sense. “I'm talking about this, Principessa," he whispers, and I gasp. His eyes hold my gaze so intensely, it doesn't matter how much my rational self is telling me to look away. Fuck, it's screaming; Danger and heartbreak alert, but my inner slut and greedy pussy are up for the challenge. “So is it as tight as I'm imagining?" He presses against my crotch a little harder. ************ Kevah Pierce is a talented, sexy, and confident 300lbs beauty. Her mother loves her, but she believes Kevah will never discover love because of her weight. After she meets Trevor Munro, the local weather reporter at a restaurant. They can't deny their undeniable sexual tension. They move on to dating for two years, but when her family brings up the question of marriage, things start to become sour in their once peaceful relationship. Trevor goes on to reveal a shocking secret to Kevah which causes her heart to shatter to pieces. Unable to bear the heartache, she flees to a small city called Fertopia in Italy, where she reunites with her older brother's friend Emanuele Ferrero whom she was briefly married to a few years ago. She finds out he's keeping not 1, but 4 secrets from her. The 1st one is that he owns the building she is contracted to decorate. Will the two be able to put aside their disputes to work simultaneously?

"I love it when you say my name, printsessa, how long has it been? Two-" "Three years." I snap unintentionally wishing I could take the words back. A sly grinspreads across his angelic-looking face, "You've been counting." He states in a cocky tone. I place my hands flat on his chest, and I shove him away. "Still a cocky son of a bitch I see." I hiss, hating the way he makes my body burn with fever. Slowly panting through my parted lips, I realise that he is shirtless, his gold skin and sinuous muscle put on full display for my eyes to feast upon. His eyes look darker than I remember, smouldering with carnal intent. The perfect curve of his lips etches with cruelty. He's so hot with lust and anger that it should be a crime. He's sin in human form and he makes me want to be a sinner. "And you're still a stuck-up printsessa holding a grudge." He snarls, throwing his hands in the air --- Today was meant to be one of the happiest days of my life. Today, I was turning twenty-one and everyone whom I love dearly has shown up to celebrate it with me. Including the one man in my life who should be off-limits; forbidden. Things quickly turn sour, the air smells of death, gun powder, and vengeance. CAUSING my heart to still with fear, loss, and panic. When I realise the one man I vowed to hate forever, is the one person I can rely on to keep me safe. I must build a wall around my heart, and pray like fuck, that he doesn't break through it. My name is Zeynep Volkov, and this is my story about survival, deception and a love triangle that no one saw coming.

I plan on ordering some food using my husband's phone, yet I've noticed a remark that's been saved on the delivery app. "The food is for a pregnant lady. Please make sure to be hygienic and use less oil and salt when making the dishes." I can feel my heart sink. I turn my gaze toward the bathroom, where my husband is. I can't figure out why my husband, who's been firm about not wanting a child, has been ordering meals for pregnant women. After a moment of hesitation, I scroll through the delivery app's order history with shaky hands. Numerous orders have been placed with the same restaurant, one that specializes in making exquisite dishes designed for pregnant women. Each of these food orders costs more than ten thousand dollars. My husband's company address has been chosen as the delivery address, and he's also the recipient. … After exiting the delivery app, I sit on the couch and stare into space. As I look at my husband's well-defined muscles, I recall how he, who's about to hit 40, is suddenly quite invested in getting in shape over the past year. I blurt out asking, "Have you been ordering food to your office often lately?" My husband freezes for a split second. Then, he fixes me with a gentle gaze. "I do that once in a while. Why are you suddenly asking about that? By the way, I haven't had the sweet and sour meatballs you make in a long while. Can you make some for me so that I can bring them to the office for my lunch tomorrow?" I smile at him and agree to his request. Still, I toss and turn in bed as the remark about the pregnant lady in his phone keeps gnawing at me that night.

On my wedding day, my best friend, Beatrice Hopper, buys a lottery ticket from a convenience store and gives it to me as a wedding gift. I initially believe that she's joking, but when I see the unmistakable disdain in her eyes, I know something is off. "They say it's the thought that counts. This gift is precisely how I show that I care. Besides, I'm pregnant and need money for everything right now. I don't want you to feel bad about taking my money," she says. Honestly, I'm disappointed. But since it's my wedding, I can only stand there and watch as my best friend drags her entire family to the reception for free food and drinks. As expected, the wedding ends on a sour note. The two of us part ways unhappily. What I don't see coming, though, is winning 50 million dollars in the lottery that night. Elated, I tell my husband the news, and we head to the lottery office first thing in the morning to claim the prize. The news quickly spreads among our friends and family. But by the afternoon, Beatrice pounds on my door, demanding I return the lottery ticket. "I should've been the winner!" she screamed. "I was the one who bought it, so why should you take away my prize?" I keep backing away from her, panic flooding my entire body, so much so that I don't even notice she's holding a knife. The last thing I expect is for her to swing it at me in the middle of our struggle. By the time I realize what's happening, the blade is already buried in my husband's chest. I try to call the police, but Beatrice yanks me back. We grapple, stumble, and crash through the floor-to-ceiling windows. Eventually, we fall to our deaths in the courtyard below. The universe must've had mercy on me because when I open my eyes again, I'm back at the moment she hands me that lottery ticket. Here comes my second chance.