Sultry Outfit Mga Nobela at Kwento

Five years into my marriage to Dante Moretti, the Don of the Chicago Outfit, the entire underworld knew he loved me more than life itself. He’d had a violin—for me—tattooed right next to his family crest, a symbol of loyalty that could never be erased. Until I got the photo from his mistress. A cocktail waitress, sprawled naked in his arms, her skin marred by the dark bruises of rough sex. She had scrawled her name right next to the violin he’d gotten for me. And my husband had let her. "Dante says only being inside me makes him feel like a man anymore. You can’t even get him hard anymore, can you, sweet Alessia? Maybe it’s time to step aside." I didn't reply. I just made a single call. “I need a new identity. And a plane ticket out.”

When Michael reluctantly agrees to help the sultry and mysterious Miss Calvin tidy her garden, he expects nothing more than long hours under the scorching summer sun. But as the days heat up, so does the tension between them. Miss Calvin is confident, provocative, and uncomfortably alluring for Michael, who's barely coming into his own as a young adult. What begins as innocent neighborly favors soon spirals into a web of forbidden desire, blurred boundaries, and thrilling fantasies that Michael can’t escape. Navigating his feelings for the unattainable Lucy and the intoxicating Miss Calvin, Michael faces a scorching dilemma between the dreams of youth and the allure of experience. In this tale of seduction, secrets, and irresistible chemistry, every boundary is tested. But will giving in to temptation cost Michael more than just his innocence?

"You know what happens when you run, spitfire." Tobias nips my lower lip with his teeth then soothes the sting with the gentle caress of his tongue. "I catch you!" --- I should have known that Tobias Landry was behind the circus of my troubles. He, who once was a man I adored in my past life, is now a man who leaves nothing but devastation in his wake everywhere he turns. He can pretend all he likes that he is innocent, but the slight twitch in his left eye says a completely different story. I will fight him to the end to keep the bakery that I have poured my sweat, blood, and tears into! Even, if that means that I have to marry him and give in to his sexual desires. My name is Keri Appleton and this is a dangerous and sultry tale about lies, secrets, and the fine line between love and obsession.

⚠️ Rated 18+ | Mature Content Warning. This book is for adults only. It contains explicit sex, strong language, and mature themes. Read at your own risk or pleasure. Dirty Family Secrets presents a collection of raw, uninhibited short stories where hidden desires within families erupt into reality. Behind closed doors, forbidden fantasies unravel, tensions snap, and boundaries dissolve in moments of intense pleasure. Relatives with unspoken attractions collide. Past promises are broken under the weight of longing. Connections once thought untouchable ignite with reckless abandon. These tales are quick, sultry, and unapologetically provocative, embracing the chaos of taboo desires. Discover women who boldly claim what they crave, men who satisfy their lust without hesitation, and nights that blur into mornings without regret. This isn’t a subtle tease—it’s a torrent of heat, intimacy, and the irresistible pull of forbidden passion that consumes without restraint. Enjoy reading..

I sat in the driver's seat as the GPS chimed, "You've arrived at Northpoint Corp. Check-in successful." I looked up. Graves. Nothing but graves. My phone buzzed. My boss tagged me in the group chat: [Zane Zander, system says you checked in ten minutes ago. Where the hell are you? The whole company's waiting. Learned how to spoof your GPS to slack off?] Cold sweat slid down my back. I stared at the fresh headstone outside my window. My photo was on it. My hands shook. I tried to send my boss a video—no signal. Just dead bars. No service. So how did I check in? Worse— In the rearview mirror, someone in my exact outfit rose slowly from behind a dirt mound. Could it be... Was I already "dead"?

My parents, the wealthiest couple in the country, were famous philanthropists. I had to ask them for permission if I wanted to spend more than five bucks. The day I was diagnosed with terminal cancer, I asked them for 100 dollars, but instead of helping, they yelled at me for three hours. "What kind of disease could you get at your age? If you're going to ask for money, at least come up with a better excuse." "Do you know that 100 dollars could support children in poverty-stricken areas for a long time? Your sister is more sensible than you." I dragged my sick body for miles, back to the small basement I called home. But as I passed the mall, I saw my parents, live on a huge screen, spending a fortune to rent out Disneyland for my sister. I couldn't hold back the tears anymore. A hundred dollars wouldn't even cover one round of chemotherapy. I just wanted to buy a new outfit and leave with some dignity.

Three years ago, my husband’s brother took a bullet for him. So Gwen brought his brother's widow, Eliza, into our home. I was the Donna in name only. I had to step aside for Eliza in everything. Once, Eliza faked slitting her wrists. She said I drove her to it. Gwen grabbed my throat. Murder flashed in his eyes. "Get out. The Falcone family has no place for a venomous bitch like you." He gave her the family's art foundation to "make it up to her." It was supposed to be mine. This time, I said nothing. He was signing a stack of business contracts. I just slipped the divorce papers in with them. A few days later, he noticed I wasn't home. He searched all over Chicago. He couldn't find me. That's when he saw the divorce decree. He finally understood. I was gone. For good. That day, the untouchable king of the Chicago Outfit… shattered.

The Rossi family has a rule. If you want to be the next Donna, you have to prove yourself. Make three hundred million dollars, clean money, in a single year. All on your own, no family help. I spent ten years trying to do it for Vincent. I built ten companies from the ground up. But every single time, just as I was about to cross that finish line, something would go wrong. Everything would just… collapse. This year, I finally did it. I ran to his study, audit in hand, my heart hammering against my ribs. I thought I’d finally won. Instead, I learned my entire life was a lie. He handed my entire empire to Ava—my father's bastard. All because she supposedly saved his life once, and he wanted to make her the real Donna. I gave up. On him. On my family's dream of rising with his. Then I picked up the phone and called the Outfit in Chicago. "Your marriage proposal," I said. "I accept."

She has made us proud and today she will make history. Her name is Jedidiah Aaro. Come up to the throne and receive your crown my daughter.” There was a sudden hush in the entire hall. For a second, even I thought I had heard wrong and just stood rooted to my spot, a frown etched in my face, my brows furrowed. Jedidiah? Someone suddenly pushed past me and I almost fell If I hadn't stood my ground, only for me to watch as Jedidiah cat walked towards the throne. Her outfit, unlike the suit I had worn was a skimpy revealing gown with pink stiletto heels. She sat down proudly on the throne and right before my very eyes, my father lifted the crown- MY crown and placed it right on her head. The crowd resumed cheering, but this time it wasn't as cheerful and loud as it was before. Infact, it felt like they were being forced to give the mandatory standing ovation. I was still rooted to my spot, hoping and believing everything was a dream, but it wasn't. My step sister, Jedidiah was sitting on the throne, wearing the crown. Alpha Jedidiah? What a joke.

The day Ken Bowen and I finalized the divorce, I walked out wearing only the outfit I had worn on our wedding day. I let Ken keep the house, the cars, the money, and the kids. He looked genuinely surprised, then let out a mocking laugh. "Are you sure about this? You raised the girls yourself, and you're just giving them up? If you really don't want anything, then you won't need to pay child support either. That's fair, right?" I signed the papers without hesitation and said calmly, "Yeah. That's fair." Ken paused, then slowly signed his name. "If you regret this later, you…" I lifted a hand and cut him off. I didn't look back as I walked out. Ken used to say I married him for money and status, that I used our three daughters to tie him down. Whatever. The day he saw my dead body, he would finally understand.