Sublime Used In A Sentence Novels & Stories

I'm discovered by a man who's gone fishing early in the morning. I'm caught on his hook, but he can't pull me up, no matter how hard he tugs. He comes closer to see me floating in the water and is terrified. He runs off to call the police, leaving his fishing pole behind. When the police get me out of the water, I'm hanging on by a thread. Even the doctors who participate in my rescue think they can't save me. When they call my husband and tell him to come sign some forms, he tells me he doesn't have time for that. He's busy making a hot drink for his true love, who has a cold. Later, he bawls his eyes out and begs me to spare him another glance.

My superior loved tricking me into wearing tight-fitting pencil skirts to serve wine to sleazy clients while sticking close to them. Then, she would hint that I was single and a valid target while she excitedly waited for the clients to make a move on me. It was all in the name of checking the integrity of the clients and whether they were worthy business partners or not. The moment a client fell for it, she would rush over with righteous anger and throw wine in their faces. Then, she would lecture me with a voice heavy with anguish. “Do you lack money so much that you’d throw your dignity away just for better results?” She would trample all over my dignity to set up her image as a refined, noble woman. This time, she even prepared a gown with a super low neckline and pushed me to serve a client with a rich and powerful background. She threatened me by saying that if I did not go, she would deduct my bonus for three whole months of full attendance. But when I saw the familiar, cold man sitting in the seat of honor, it was my turn to laugh. If my brother saw me serving wine in this kind of dress, I did not doubt that by tomorrow, the company would be under my name.

To help my husband, Henry Carter, pay off a million-dollar debt, I clean windows and scrub toilets in an office building on Valentine's Day just for the triple pay. After I'm done with the windows, I am about to transfer the last 50 thousand dollars of the debt when a post suddenly pops up on my phone. The title of the post is, "What is something you see in real life that makes you feel sorry for someone, even if they are your enemy?" One of the top comments says, "The person I hate the most is my boyfriend's wife. My boyfriend pretends to be poor to spend money on me and cheats his wife out of over a million. That woman works day and night at a cleaning company just to make money for me! "This has gone on for eight years. That woman has been scrubbing toilets for eight years! Even if she is my enemy, I feel sorry for her." I freeze, and my fingers tremble uncontrollably. No way. It has to be a coincidence. I stare at those words, stunned and unable to recover from the shock. Then, a new comment appears, "Now, my boyfriend plans to fake an illness by telling his wife that he has cancer. He's going to trick her into giving him money to buy me a car." At that exact moment, Henry sends me a message. The instant I open it, I feel my heart skip a beat. It reads, "I'm sorry, honey. I'm sick—I have cancer. The doctor says we need to prepare 80 thousand dollars for treatment. I hate myself for this. Why am I even alive? I'm just dragging you down with me." The words "late-stage liver cancer" in the attached diagnosis report are painful to look at. I think in dismay, "Henry, you do not need to pretend to be sick. You are indeed in the late stage of cancer."

In every shadowed corner of desire, someone is waiting to take what isn't theirs. Loyal girlfriends. Starving wives. Forbidden mentors. Everything that should have remained off-limits. Resistance crumbles into desperate submission. Jealousy fuels every thrust. Predators from every walk of life slip in, seduce, corrupt, and own. This collection is an unrelenting taboo erotica exploring themes of cheating, power play, degradation, forced complicity, age gaps, threesomes, dark possession, and morally corrupt pleasure that pushes every boundary. Warning: Explicit, dark, and unapologetically filthy. Contains intense psychological corruption, taboo relationships, and no redemption. 18+ only. If safe love stories are your comfort zone, look away. If you crave the forbidden... dive in. There's no coming back.

The newly-appointed leader, Eileen Shaffer, fantasizes herself as a queen. Because of that, she treats me like her personal maid. On her first day at work, Eileen sends me a list consisting of 16 workplace rules. Not only does she request that I prepare warm water that must be proven to be 113 degrees Fahrenheit by a thermometer every day, but she also wants me to prepare three meals per day for her. I'm not allowed to order takeout. Those meals must be cooked and prepared by me so that the food is safe and clean to eat. Finally, shit hits the fan at the Thanksgiving holidays. Eileen has the nerve to call me 18 times at 2:00 am just so I can leave a like on her son's video. Unable to tolerate her antics anymore, I slap her on the spot. "I'm the daughter of this company's CEO, and yet I have to slave away at work every day! Do you seriously think you're an actual queen now?"

Ayla, my wife had just returned home from a business trip when I received a call from the hotel she had booked there. The hotel receptionist sounded a little embarrassed as she explained, “Hello, is this Ms. Jewell’s husband? I’m calling from the front desk. I see that we forgot to bill you for some incidentals. It looks like your room used all eighteen condoms from the amenity kit. I apologize for the oversight. The total comes to 35 dollars. Can I get a card number over the phone to close that out for you?” My mind went completely blank. Hadn’t my wife gone on that business trip on her own? Why would she have used condoms? Suppressing my inner turmoil, I gave Ayla a call. “Honey, the hotel just called. They said there was a little issue with your room. They asked me if you had someone staying over with you?” She sounded clearly exhausted as she replied with a weak voice, “Oh, right. A lady couldn’t find a hotel room, so she crashed with me for the night.” I chuckled and asked her to rest. After hanging up, I drove directly to the hotel. “35 dollars, right? I’ll pay it in person.”

Overnight, an electronic notification sounded in the minds of all office workers. It was from a "Performance-Share System". The rules: employees who paired off could split their year-end bonuses 50/50. I was a junior associate at Summit Financial, one of the biggest wealth management firms in Manhattan. In my previous life, I agreed to pair with my manager, Jared, and the intern he brought in — Stephanie. By the time the project went into its crunch phase, they'd shoved every garbage task and every blown deadline onto me. I pulled all-nighters for months. My body was running on fumes. When the one promotion that could have saved me came up, they cut me out of the team without a second thought. In the end I was fired for "burnout and poor performance." I couldn't make my mortgage. I jumped. They took the work I'd done with me, walked out with million-dollar bonuses each, and flew off on vacation together. Then I opened my eyes again. I was back, on the exact day the pair-binding system went live. This time, I'm not just keeping every cent of what I earn. This time, I'm putting them in prison.

Angelina begged and screamed in pain infront of four assaulters to let her go, but they could not comprehend a girl's "NO." They sexually assaulted her and killed her soul.The broken fragment of her soul continued even through tears. Infront of her eyes, those assaulters also killed her first mate. However, she won't spare anyone and has returned to take her revenge. And the only punishment for them is death. But destiny played with her and her second mate is the assaulter brother. Will she forgave them? Or she will kill her second mate?

"I didn't do anything wrong," I choked out. "You stuck your nose into my private matters," he hissed. "No one can sentence me without proof," I challenged him. He straightened up. Any traces of a smile abruptly disappeared from his face. "You still don't get it, do you? I own this city. It means that if I say you go to jail, that means you go to jail." He leaned over me again, his stare piercing right through me, "And if I say that I want you, that means you are already mine." My jaw tensed as I resisted an urge to talk back. This wasn't a battle I could win, and this wasn't a man I could win against... How did I get myself into all that mess?! *** My name is Cora Bell, and I'm about to marry Aren Lan, New York's most wanted bachelor. A dream come true? I highly doubt that. The guy is an arrogant, wealthy beyond imagination, asshole. Not to mention that our relationship is based solely on a contract, a contract I was forced to sign when I accidentally ruined this guy's engagement... I used to dream of a simple life. I wanted to graduate from university and work as a software programmer, but my fate chose a different path for me to follow. First, I had to give up on my studies to take care of dear Grandma, and now I'm forced to play the role of a manipulative jerk's loving fiancée! The problem is that my husband-to-be is insanely sexy and enjoys teasing me a bit too much. How the hell am I going to survive being close to him throughout the two years of our fake marriage?!

The freshman welcome party was loud—music blasting, people screaming over it. Then the external pacemaker on my chest started shrieking. 10 percent battery. Cold sweat hit fast. I always carried a backup. Always. I yanked open my backpack. No heavy medical battery pack. Just a flimsy power bank. One blinking bar.