Stomach Growl Novels & Stories

A deep bone-melting groan vibrates from his chest. “I want to see you malyshka.Every inch of you.”  I shiver in anticipation as his fingers trail down my back, lowering the zipper of my dress, the fabric pooling at my waist. My tits come into view as cool air kisses my bare skin. His sharp intake of breath makes my stomach flip.  “Damn,” the word is rough, almost reverent as his large hand cups my left tit, squeezing softly. “They look even better than I had imagined.” His grip tightens slightly.   “A perfect fit for my hands.” ☦︎☦︎☦︎☦︎☦︎☦︎☦︎☦︎☦︎☦︎☦︎☦︎☦︎☦︎☦︎☦︎☦︎☦︎ Serafina had only one dream: to take center stage at the New York Opera. But if wishes were horses, even beggars would have a ride. Thrown into an arranged marriage, She is determined to hate him but soon discovers that there’s a thin line between love and hate. Adriko has no use for love. His focus is power, his goal is revenge.But what do you do when your greatest threat is your most sinful desire? A pawn in the game… A Bride for a truce…

The wedding had reached the part where the groom kissed the bride. I closed my eyes and leaned in to kiss Stella Stafford, only to end up with a mouthful of fur. Her assistant held up the camera and burst out laughing. "The almighty Mr. Rowe can't even tell if he's kissing a person or a dog?" I stared at the Husky in front of me, its tongue lolling out, and felt my stomach churn. I was about to lay into him when Stella stepped in to block me. "It was just a joke. No hard feelings." Laurent Reilly smirked smugly, his tone dripping with arrogance. "And guess what? This Husky happens to be a female, so why don't you just marry her instead? You're not good enough for Stella anyway." The employees erupted in laughter. Mortified, I kicked him square in the chest, sending him sprawling. The next second, Stella smashed a wine bottle over my head and demanded an apology. I wiped the mix of wine and blood from my face, then dialed an overseas number with a cold grin. "The wedding is short one bride. You in?"

He laid me on the sheets, climbed over me, caged me with his arms. "Last chance to run," he said, voice low. "I need the money," I whispered, feeling so tiny in his arms."You're soaking," he muttered. "Virgin or not, your pussy wants this. "I moaned, looking away, couldn’t help it, "Eyes on me, sweetheart," he pushed his tip in slowly. "Fuck," he groaned. "So tight." He fucked me like he was claiming something. "Come for me," he whispered in my ears, moving faster. "Damien," I cried out his name as I came. "That's it," he growled. After a long minute he pulled out slowly. "One night," he said again, almost like a reminder... Weeks later, I walked through the quiet hall of my school. A massive portrait stared back at me, Damien Blackwood the Principal Benefactor and Owner of Columbia University. Same man who’d just taken my virginity for money. My stomach dropped. "Oh fuck... what have I done?"

My breathing rate slowly increased on seeing his outstretched hand, and out of my gritted teeth, I asked, "Did you poison this food?" There was no slight change in his face as he answered me coldly, "I would rather choke you to the bed with my bare hands, Senorita. That way, you'll curse out my name" My eyes dimmed for a moment. Was this devil in an armani suit still talking about murder? "Now, open your mouth!" He commanded and my stomach rumbled in protest. My lips vibrated and I tried to hold the hot tears forming inside of my eyes. I couldn't stay longer with this hunger. As long as I'm not submitting to be his slave then I could come to a compromise. .. .. Her name is Sofia Di Marco; surviving heir of a powerful mob family. After a decade of hiding from the Italian government She finally steps out to start a new life but she bumps that new life into a mystery billionaire man who turns out to be the King of the New York Underground. That was his identity, but to her, he was Mr. Pompous; the raging green-eyed Devil in an Armani suit.....

I never thought the cocky tattooed Hockey captain I hooked up with in Las Vegas would become my stepbrother. His name was Damon—arrogant, dangerously sexy, and built like pure sin. After my boyfriend cheated on me, I met him at a club. Within hours, he had me in luxurious hotel suite, fucking me senseless against the glass window overlooking the glittering city. One wild night of raw, filthy pleasure with no promises. A week later, my mom revealed she had secretly married and we were moving into her new husband’s luxurious mansion. The second I stepped inside, my stomach dropped. There stood Damon in nothing but low grey sweatpants, his powerful tattooed body on full display. The same man who had bent me over while I moaned his name. We agreed to bury our Vegas hookup and pretend it never happened. But living under the same roof makes it impossible to forget. Damon is strictly off limits. Yet I can’t stop craving my forbidden stepbrother.

"Three years ago, standing at the altar under the admiring gaze of hundreds, Gabriel declared that he would love only Catherine, unwaveringly, for the rest of his life. Three years later, after receiving a diagnosis of infertility, he heartlessly threw divorce papers in her face and cast her out onto the streets with nothing. Three years ago, Catherine, in her kindness, saved a girl who was about to be sold into a brothel, taking her in as a beloved younger sister. Three years later, watching the very girl she once saved walk down the aisle on her ex-husband's arm, standing in the same place she once stood, reciting the vows she once made, Catherine could only muster a bitter smile. She gently touched her flat stomach, where an unborn life, a gift from heaven, was beginning to form. She vowed to herself that she would leave Gabriel far behind, but... 'Catherine, you are mine. Divorce or not, you will forever belong to Gabriel.' 'Catherine, be good. Stop causing trouble, okay?' 'Catherine! If you dare to leave, I will break your legs!' 'Catherine, stay with me, I beg you...'"

My competitive eater classmate, Selina Reeves, bound me to a fat transfer system. No matter how much food she ate, I was the one who gained weight. Later, she was named one of the top 100 food bloggers while I ballooned to 200 pounds and lost my job. My boyfriend did not seem to mind. He even proposed with unwavering confidence. A month later, Selina entered a competitive eating contest and devoured 20 pounds of ribs in one sitting. The excessive fat intake triggered acute hypertension, and I died on the spot. My husband inherited my substantial fortune, then turned around and married Selina without a second thought. When I opened my eyes again, I found myself three months in the past. Selina's food streaming career was just starting to gain traction, and I still weighed 90 pounds. This time, I snatched the ten-inch cake right out of her hands and ate every last bite. She had no idea I had bound myself to a food transfer system. No matter how much I ate, it would transfer to her stomach tenfold.

I should step back. But I don’t. His hand slides to my waist, firm, deliberate. Not asking. Claiming. My stomach tightens, heat curling low, and I feel every inch of him before I even see him. He’s behind me, close enough that I can feel his breath at my neck. My pulse stutters as his fingers trace slow, unhurried circles up my back, and I know I should pull away… but I can’t. His lips brush my neck. Not a kiss yet, just the promise of it. My head tilts back before I can stop myself, back arching like my body is betraying me. Then he speaks. Low, calm, in control “Don’t make a sound.” A shiver runs through me. Not from fear. Not exactly. From… him. He’s in control. I can’t fight it. I don’t want to. And somewhere deep inside, I realize the terrifying truth: I’m letting him have me.

Ever since we brought our six-year-old daughter, Elise, home, she's been keeping her distance. My husband, Patrick Sheeter, chalked it up to "adjustment issues." Told me to bring her more gifts when I got back from my overseas trip. I was halfway out the door when I heard her voice in my head. 'Should I tell Mom that Della always hits me? 'Dad says Mom hates tattletales. Especially me. 'But if I keep quiet, I might not make it till Mom gets back.' My stomach flipped. I turned around. Elise was curled up in the corner, eyes glassy with tears. Silent. But I still heard her. 'Maybe I lived again just to see Mom one more time.' Patrick, noticing I was frozen, casually reminded me I was gonna miss my flight. Right. Like that mattered. I turned and slapped him so hard. Screw the business trip. I was staying. Let's see who's got the guts to mess with my kid now.

The day before his Alpha Induction, Luke destroyed everything. He’d spent years obsessed with a weak Omega—a girl promised to Reno, the lethal Alpha of the Northern Territory. Luke couldn't stomach losing her, so he crashed their ceremony and took her by force. That same night, he Marked her in front of everyone. The Pack held their breath, waiting for my family to become the biggest joke in the territory. I braced for the humiliation, expecting to be the girl everyone pitied. I was wrong. The next morning, I found Reno leaning against my balcony railing. He was massive—broad-chested with arms built for violence. He smelled like raw power and imminent danger. He didn't look like a man who had just lost a mate; he looked like a man looking for a trade. "Luke stole my female," he rumbled, his dark eyes locking onto mine. "I want you as her replacement. Be my Luna. It’s a fair trade, don’t you think?" I didn't hesitate. I looked him dead in the eye and nodded. "It is," I replied. "I’m in."