Spicy Wattpad Stories Novels & Stories

We hustle back up the stairs into our usual motel room. Of course, the smell of old weed and sweat and stale air is welcoming as fuck. I drop my suitcase on the floor next to a pile of dirty laundry and a pair of worn-out platform clear heels. Tiffany plops her fat ass on the edge of the unmade mattress, pushing aside a half-empty bottle of cheap tequila, watching me disintegrate. "So what the actual fuck really happened over there, friend?" "One second you're playing the sick damsel and it was working, and the next Cairo’s scary mama’s breaking your face with a slap."

Every blog, every post, every trending comment confirmed the story. “I am going to kill Alice, I swear!” I barked, feeling a mix of fury and helplessness. Scott held his hands up, trying to calm me. “Just breathe, Jace. I’ll take care of this. We’ll get it taken down.” I ignored him, still scrolling through the flood of comments. People were either congratulating me or tearing down Spicy with their comments. “So he finally abandoned the stripper girl and is marrying some rich girl!” one comment read.

“I have got hot gist to tell you at home bridggy” Spiffy helped me out of the limo when we arrived at Jim's apartment, while Chloe cuddled Liam, my little werewolf. I had named him already and I don't care what Spiffy has to say. I was left alone with Spiffy in Sharon's room. “Bridggy”, Spiffy said calmly. " I can't wait to welcome you as the Luna of my pack”, “you will be my queen and my mate forever”. Then he kissed my neck while I stood still, unresponsive to his kisses.

He said and hurried to wipe his tears. "Tss. Why did you cry? You can't even remember my life. This is more like a fantasy story like you read in w*****d stories." I promise here. I don't read W*****d. Misha is the lover, I only hear about his stories. He likes to read gangster stories. Then he imagined that I was a female gangster. He has a story he wants to tell, what is the title now?... Monster High? No, that's not it... Mon... Mon... Montello High? Yeah, that's it because he has reread it several times and he still wants me to read it too like what the hell? I don't like reading that mushy stuff, and besides the stories are exaggerated too much, but Misha is an addict, or maybe I just d

I love all different kinds of music, so there's a little something for everyone. 4. I write all different kinds of books. If you’re interested, you can find my other books on these platforms: a. GoodNovel: Trio of Mates Series: 4 werewolf books that take on the idea of what would happen if one of the leadership was gay and couldn’t produce an heir. Lots of very graphic smut. (completed) Love in the Time of Quarantine: 4 short stories that look at what happens when you are stuck with someone you didn’t expect during quarantine. Lots of very graphic smut. (ongoing)

Suddenly there was a flash of lightning cutting across the room through the high window, followed by the crack of thunder. The sound of heavy rain could be heard hitting the metal roofing. It was now dark and I was in darkness. No lighting. I felt terribly hurt and abused. At this moment , I missed my parents so much. My mind flashed back to the many times my mother had shown that kind of love only a mother is capable of. I remember when mum had grabbed fearlessly the head of a snake and thrown it off me on one occasion we went out camping by the seaside . I had been fast asleep when the snake climbed onto the bed. Luckily mummy was just stepping in after sitting outside for some time to enj

He liked working with the other editors in the erotica department office, it just wasn’t the same as spending most of his day with his friends. “You know my weakness now,” Darien said. “I can’t eat anything past a mild spicy rating. I just normally pretend the spice isn’t affecting me.” “I have no idea what I’m going to do with this new information,” Zach replied with a laugh. “Your secret is safe with me.”

He followed a second later, spilling inside me with a low groan. We collapsed together on the desk, breathing hard, sweat dripping down our wet bodies. I felt some liquid touch my cheek. When I looked up, I saw that Mr. Sinclair was now close to me, wet cream shooting from his cap. I brought my tongue out and his sloppy dick slid into my mouth. I licked his cap clean, swallowing his cum. When he was satisfied he stood back, tucking himself back into his slacks. "Well," he said with a chuckle. "That was certainly an interesting way to end the workday."

But his eyes were doing that thing again. And the water was still pooling in his collarbone like an invitation. And my pussy was so wet it was embarrassing — the seam of my underwear was absolutely soaked and my thong felt like it was painted on — and I was done lying. "Since March," I said. "When you fixed the boiler room pipe and your shirt was completely soaked through and I could see the muscles in your back and your —" I stopped. "My what?" His voice had changed. Thickened.

They marked me inside and out, knots swelling one by one, filling me until cum leaked profusely from every hole. As the intensity finally ebbed, we lay in a sweaty, sated tangle. The brothers shared stories of their pack’s history—ancient rivalries, lost battles, and the prophecy of an omega who would strengthen their line. I listened, tracing scars on their chests, feeling the bond deepen with every word.