Novel & Cerita Strongest Finger

18+ I felt his finger tracing the side of my panty before forcing itself inside. “You’re so wet for me, baby,” he said, letting out a growl. Now that I was feeling his warm hand, the pleasure was even more intense. “Stacey,” he moaned my name. I threw my head back, letting him work on pleasuring me. “Stacey!” Wait. That was not Caleb’s voice. I woke with a start, my heart thumping. I looked around and saw Olivia standing at the door. “It’s time to wake up!” “What the hell?” I said. I didn’t know whether to be relived or annoyed that it was just a dream. *** On my 18th birthday, Alpha Liam chose and marked me. I was chosen to be his luna. Suddenly, his cursed twin brother returned from exile, claiming I was meant to be his. My wolf went wild the moment she sensed his scent. While Liam was warm and caring, his brother was cold and distant. But he watched me with a hunger I couldn't ignore. My wolf burned for him. I was drawn to the darkness. The more I fought it, the more I craved him. I knew that falling for the cursed twin was risking everything including the pack, but there was no going back.

One night before our engagement, Darren Finch insisted on throwing a singles party aboard a cruise ship. He made it clear I wasn't invited. But in the middle of the night, I got a call saying he'd fallen overboard. Panic overtook me. Feverish and disoriented, I stumbled to the deck and dove into the sea without a second thought. The night waters were icy, sapping the strength from my limbs. As I was pulled back onto the deck, shivering and soaked, I heard laughter ring out from the crowd. Carrie Specter, Darren's childhood sweetheart, stood above me. She gave a soft, lilting laugh. "Seeing how far you're willing to go for Darren... I can finally hand him over to you without worry." At that, Darren wrapped an arm smugly around her waist. "Carrie, you really do know me best." "I told you," she beamed, "Paula would pass your test." I let out a cold laugh, slipped the engagement ring from my finger, and flung it at his face. "No, thanks. I wish you two eternal bliss. Just don't ever drag me into your drama again."

At the awards for the Global Jewelry Design Competition, my stepsister Sandra took the grand prize. She used the designs she stole from me. What she didn’t know was the show’s biggest sponsor: Jude Moretti. Godfather of the Moretti family. A bloodthirsty monster scarred in an explosion, a man they say can never have children. And the grand prize? Becoming the Godfather’s bride. That night, Moretti’s men, all in black, delivered a gold-trimmed marriage contract. They were here for the “genius designer.” My fiancé, Marco, panicked. He whisked Sandra off to Vegas to save her. They got married that night. With the deed done, Sandra strutted back in, wearing my silk robe. She flashed the ring on her finger and the hickies all over her neck. “Marco’s mine now,” she purred. “What are you going to do, Odessa? The Godfather’s only giving you a day. If you don’t marry him, the Family will have to appease him. That means sending you to the red-light district. Selling you to the kind of sicko who gets off on broken things.” She was wrong. I had another choice. I found my father and stepmother, both scrambling to deal with the contract. “I’ll do it,” I said. “I’ll marry the Godfather.”

The day my boyfriend, Lucian Farrell, and I, Roxanne Schmidt, decide to register our marriage, the million-dollar diamond ring he'd promised me turns into a can tab. So, I broke things up with him on the spot. In a panic, Lucian fishes out the purchase receipt. "I just forgot to bring the ring. If it bothers you, I can go home and get it right now," he coaxes. My gaze lands on the figure hurrying toward both of us. "There's no need for that. Your 'little shadow' has already brought it over for you," I replied indifferently. Evelyn Wiley rushes up before me with tears in her eyes. A large diamond ring is wedged tightly around her swollen ring finger. "I just wanted to help Ms. Schmidt try the size. But it wouldn't come off no matter how hard I tried…" she explains between sobs. Lucian's face darkens instantly. "Who said you could touch it? The ring was meant for Roxanne!" he snaps. He wrenches at the ring, but it doesn't budge at the slightest. I watch the commotion before me with my arms folded. All of a sudden, a laugh escapes me. "It's simple. If it won't come off, then we can just cut her finger off."

My husband is cooking for his true love when his parents are abducted. I don't stop him from doing anything. Instead, I call the police. I've been reborn. In my past life, I stopped my husband from caring for his true love. In turn, he stopped his parents from leaving the house, helping them avoid a tragedy. However, his true love ended up getting an amputation after cutting her finger and getting a wound infection. My husband didn't blame me after the incident. His revenge only came a year later when I was almost due for labor. He tricked me to a remote cliff and pushed me off. "Nothing would've happened to Hailey if you hadn't stopped me that night! This is all your fault! Why is she the one who had to have an amputation? You're the one who deserves to die, you evil woman!" I rolled down the cliff while pregnant with his child and died a horrible death. This time, he leaves the house to care for his true love as he wishes. But when he returns, he falls to his knees in despair. He looks like he's aged a decade.

I’ve got a killer hourglass figure and siren eyes. In Hollywood, I’m the ultimate sex symbol. But after five years in this town, not a single producer would dare lay a finger on me. Because the man in my bed is Don Vincenzo, the most ruthless mafia boss in New York. Seven years together. Every time we finished, he’d hold me close, kiss me, and carry me to the bathroom to clean me up. I naively thought I’d be the only woman by his side. That I'd even be his Donna. Until the night of my 28th birthday. After the family dinner, I heard him sneer to his underboss: "Chloe is fun to play with, but for my Donna, I have other options." In that instant, I ripped out my cheap, pathetic heart. I became exactly what he wanted: a perfect mistress who only cared about his money. But Vincenzo didn't seem to like that. His dark, dangerous eyes locked onto mine. "Besides this Manhattan penthouse, is there really nothing else you want from me?" I wrapped my arms around his neck, letting out a fake gasp of surprise. "You mean I can pick out a Ferrari, too?"

“You threw divorce papers in my face, humiliated me, and now you’re crawling back saying you love me?” Samantha laughed coldly, her voice dripping with venom. “Do I look like a fool to you, Nathan?” “I made a mistake,” he whispered brokenly. “Please, Samantha… don’t leave me. I still love you.” “Love?” she asked with a mocking smile, dragging a finger slowly down his chest. “You didn’t love me when you threw me out for someone richer. You just want me now… because you have nothing left.” ***** Samantha gave up everything for love—her family, her pride, her identity—just to please a man who saw her as nothing more than a disposable wife. After sacrificing everything for Nathan and his controlling family, all she got in return was betrayal, humiliation, and divorce. But Samantha had a secret. She wasn’t just a scorned ex-wife, she’s the hidden heiress of the most powerful conglomerate in America and she’s done playing nice. When she returns to the world she once left behind, she isn’t the meek woman begging for love anymore. She’s fierce, fearless, and filthy rich. And this time, she’s calling the shots.

I went abroad for three years to build a lab and save my husband's company from collapse. After endless struggles, I finally cracked the technical problems and developed the core technology. When I returned home with that breakthrough, I saw the airport video board plastered with the same impossible headline—my husband was getting married. I felt a hot, furious ache and took a taxi straight to the venue. … A woman who had cared for our household for years blocked me at the gate and sneered. "Who do you think you are, showing up at the Stone family's wedding? Get out of here, or I'll get security to throw you out." For a moment, I stood rooted, but then the bride appeared, walking out of the villa in a wedding gown. It was the woman Adrian Stone had once told me was dead—his first love, Evelyn Sutton. She wore my wedding ring on her finger and looked at me with pure contempt. "You want to make a scene at my wedding?" she said. "If you do, you're really asking for trouble. My husband, Adrian, won't hesitate to take care of you." I folded my arms and let out a cold laugh. "Adrian's getting married? Funny, I don't recall getting an invitation."

“You helped your sister to run away with her boyfriend, right?” Aadil Waziri yelled at his newlyweds wife Inayat and he shook her head. “I didn't know she would run away.” She defended herself. “That means you knew. Then you could have told me about that. I would have backed out. I would never marry her forcefully. Now see what you have gotten yourself into. You spoiled both of our lives. You are stuck with me forever and me with you. But you have to pay for it. I will make your life hell. You are really my wife in papers but I will never claim you as my wife.” Pointing his finger at her he snarled at her. “Then why did you agree to marry me? You could have said no to this marriage.” Now Inayat lost her temper and yelled at him which enraged him more and he grabbed her jaw firmly, looking deadly into her eyes. “Because I want to ruin your life. You have to pay for your sister’s faults all your life. Welcome to my hellhole.” Saying that he let go of her face with a jerk and started laughing like a maniac.

I was always flying for work, so I left the whole renovation thing to my husband, Daxton Pruitt. This time, my flight got scrapped last minute, so I swung by the house to check in. The second I stepped inside, some woman named Mona Scambley, who claimed she was the designer, chucked a stack of invoices at me. Couples' lingerie display case: $15,000. High-end waterbed: $40,000. One glance at that pile of overpriced tacky nonsense made me nauseous. My brows pulled tight. "Ms. Scambley, this is a private house, not some couples' motel. What is all this?" Her face flipped in a heartbeat. She jabbed a finger at me. "The owner gave those orders. You're just the site supervisor. Disobey me again, and I'll have Mr. Pruitt fire you!" Then she spun around and called Daxton right there. I laughed, cold and low, about to ask what kind of clown show designer he'd hired—until I heard his voice. Gentle. Doting. "This is Mona and my love nest. We'll do whatever we want. Don't like it? Get out." I smiled, snatched the list from Mona, and nodded. "Sure." One week later, that overpriced waterbed showed up—Daxton, very much not smiling.