Spoiling Myself

Brandon Fenton, a scholarship student my father had been supporting, was drugged one night. After some consideration, I chose to lie beneath him. I had loved him for ten years. Giving myself to him felt like something I had long decided, something I owed to that love. But everything fell apart the moment Melissa Giles, his childhood sweetheart, walked in on us. Before she could even process what she saw, she ran out in a panic and was struck by a passing car, killing her on the spot. Brandon held me afterward, telling me it wasn't my fault. He even proposed to me. Because of that, Dad placed the entire company into his hands. But the day before our wedding, he set his plans in motion. He deliberately caused a car accident that took Dad's life. When I was at my lowest, drowning in grief, Brandon took me deep into the woods. There, he drove his car over my body, crushing me repeatedly just so I could feel the same agony Melissa had suffered before she died. "If you hadn't drugged me, why would I have ever touched you? If not for you, Melissa would still be alive! I hate you. All of you deserve to die!" And then, after the pain reached its unbearable peak... I opened my eyes and found myself back on the very day Brandon was drugged.

I sacrificed my wolf for Tyris many years ago and almost lost my sanity for him this year, and today… I sacrificed myself and my unborn child. *** After attempting to rescue her mate, Alpha Tyris, from Ivy's clutches, Cari Rythorn finds herself falsely accused of attempting to poison him with wolfsbane Rejected and left to die in the rain, she is rescued by a mysterious lycan and Alpha of the Clawson pack, Alpha Liam. Cari becomes entangled in a web of deception and betrayal. What unfolds when Alpha Tyris resurfaces, determined to reclaim her?

"Ken, it's your turn now to mark your mate." My breath hitched and my chest tightened. He nodded at dad before turning towards me. And I found myself lost in his eyes. So deep, mysterious and beautiful. He leaned down a bit before saying softly, "Can I?" **** Forced to exchange her mate, Darla felt her life turning for the worst, she was maltreated, battered and tattered. How can having a sweet mate who cared for her, who loved her, suddenly turned into having a mate who was a rogue?

My bride went missing on the night of our big day but woke up in my brother's room the next day. My parents persuaded me to ignore it for the sake of fame but scolded my wife as an easy girl. Angrily, I moved out of the villa with my wife. Soon after, my wife had a miscarriage and suffered from depression due to gossip. She jumped off from the top floor in front of me. Desperately, I followed her. Opening my eyes again, I found myself back to the time when the wedding ended.

“Its over between us Serah. I have found a better woman than you. You are dead to me. Just get out of my house. I never want to see you again.” Brian, the man whom I love the most in this world says to me. I leave his house in a freezing cold weather. I walk on the cold streets until my body could not take it anymore. The next time I open my eyes I find myself in the hospital and the doctors reveal to me the most shocking news.

In my previous life, everything I do to care for myself somehow ends up benefiting my new housekeeper instead. I apply expensive skincare, yet dark spots and fine lines spread across my face, whereas the 45-year-old housekeeper's face becomes silkier. I jog every morning, yet my body only grows heavier and bulkier, while hers becomes slender and toned. When my husband notices the stretch marks on my abdomen, his face twists with disgust, and he never touches me again. "I genuinely can't bring myself to touch you. How can you look worse than Mirabelle when you take such good care of yourself?" My housekeeper looks at me with a sinister smile. A chill crawls up my spine, and the strange feeling makes me fire her on the spot. Yet, as soon as she leaves, I start aging at lightning speed, entering menopause 20 years early and developing diabetes and high blood pressure. I see every doctor I can, but after hanging on for a week, I die from a stroke. When I open my eyes again, I'm back on the day she first reports to work. This time, I push away the royal jelly she sets in front of me with a pleasant smile. "I've been avoiding certain foods lately. You can have it instead."

"If you are going to enter my world, be ready to play my game," Mago warned, his eyes gleaming with danger, "If you can't keep up, then you'll have to endure the pain." MAGO CONCEPCION—ruthless, seductive, and incapable of love. He believed emotions were a weakness, and I, ARLENE MEJORADA, believed I could change him. I was the woman who thought I could heal him with my love, drawn in by his dangerous allure that I couldn't resist. I was a willing victim, drawn into his world of power and temptation. I convinced myself that I could handle the pain, that I could survive his cruel, calculating ways. But love doesn't always conquer all. Yet, my determination was unwavering. Soon, I found myself breaking. Piece by piece, he tore through my heart, leaving me shattered and empty, a shadow of the woman I once was. I wanted to save him, but in the end, I was the one who needed saving. This is my story—of how I gave him everything until nothing was left of me. Now I face the choice: do I pick up the pieces and walk away, or keep letting him destroy what’s left of me? My name is ARLENE MEJORADA, and I was willing to endure anything for love. Until I wasn’t.

EROTICA ROMANCE. RATED 18+. "Oh my God!" I moan. "Mmm. Your ass is so fucking tight, baby," he says to me. He starts thrusting in and out of me harder and faster. I throw my head back and moan louder. The sounds of our skin slapping together and our moans fill his little office. I wonder if maybe people can hear us. It's so fucking hot and I can feel myself getting closer again when he pulls out. I look back at him and he's grinning. He's fucking with me. He puts his cock up to my pussy and thrusts inside of me. Then he pulls out and does it again. I feel him stick a finger inside of my asshole. "Mmm," I'm loving this. Every damn second is pure ecstasy. I find that I already want to come again. He's fingering my asshole and fucking my pussy and the feelings mixed are amazing. I reach around in front of me and begin to rub my clit. "Are you gonna come again baby?" he asks. "Yes," I moan and rub myself faster. He starts fucking me harder and deeper, thrusting into me with all of his power. We're moving the desk and either he hasn't noticed or he just doesn't care.

To celebrate our daughter's eighteenth birthday, my husband, James Miller, decided to go nude cycling. I told him he was too old for that and would embarrass himself, but he looked at me with disdain and said, "Liliana, your life is so boring. You refuse to embrace new things." Then he brought the dog belonging to his first love, Sophia Lewis, and placed it before me. It was then I realized it was Sophia who had organized the nude cycling event. I felt my anger boiling beneath the surface as our son, Thomas, took the leash and handed it to me. "Dad, you can go have fun with Sophia. Mom will take care of the dog," Thomas said. But when the dog lunged at me later, Thomas protected it. Meanwhile, my daughter, Alice, fought to shield me. In the end, both Alice and I were bitten to death. James didn't even take us to the hospital. Instead, he dragged our bodies straight to the crematorium. Just before I turned into a wisp of smoke, I saw Alice rolling in the flames. During that time, James and Thomas were comforting Sophia. At that moment, I felt a deep rage—rage at myself for being so naive and for causing my daughter's death. When I opened my eyes again, I found myself back on the day when my son handed me the leash. This time, I was determined to make them all pay.

After my older sister Rachelle came home from dialysis, the atmosphere at home was suffocating. She curled up on the couch, thin as a rail. She was nagging me hard and telling me not to tire myself out too much at work. Dad was by the door smoking. To get money to treat Rachelle’s condition, he had sold our old house and land. Dirty and muddied, my fiance, who had always viewed Rachelle as a sister of his own, brought home his week’s salary. They all lamented how unfair life was to already poor and suffering people who had to suffer even more. I looked at myself in the mirror with my bleeding nose and flushed away the report with my acute leukemia diagnosis. During dinner, Dad suddenly said, “Ryleigh, Rachelle needs a kidney. You’re healthy and young. You might be a match.” I looked at Rachelle’s pleading eyes and coldly put my cutlery down. “I won’t do it. I’ll be a cripple with one less kidney. How am I supposed to find someone to marry then?” Dad slapped me hard, even as my fiance called me ungrateful. I slammed the door shut as I left. I looked for the nearest room to the hospital to rent so that I could wait it out until I died. The room I found was only five blocks away from the organ donation center.