Synonym Quietly

"He was the fire I should’ve run from. But I walked straight into the blaze, begging him to burn me. He loved me so hard it bled. Then, he left me — shattered— and now when I hold the power to destroy him, he wants to claim every broken piece." In a world of deceit, can love survive the truth? Kiss of His Betrayal– for those who love dangerous men and the women who dare to love them back. A dark romance of obsession, betrayal, revenge and the kind of love that scars. Read if you crave enemies-to-lovers, twisted chemistry, and secrets that refuse to stay buried. Character Intro: Shefali D'Souza - Barely eighteen… A pure soul with dreams bigger than the sky. Ambitious, fearless, breathtaking— A girl whose beauty wasn’t just on her face, but in the fire burning quietly in her eyes. Her charm? Chaos and poetry wrapped into one. Her sass could stop hearts, and that dimpled smile… dangerously unforgettable. One look at her— and his whole world surrendered at her feet. Damon Knight - He was the sole heir to the most powerful empire in the country— a name that made business tycoons bow and enemies tremble. To the world, he was the renowned boxer, the young CEO, the most eligible bachelor everyone dreamed of. Elegant. Charming. Untouchable. But beneath the tailored suits and angelic reputation… lived a devil carved out of fire and darkness. A man obsessed with the idea of taming innocence, claiming purity, and turning an untouched soul into his most prized possession. Her beauty caught his eye. Her fire… ensnared his soul. What began as a spark of curiosity twisted into an obsession he couldn’t control— and before he even realized it, the devil himself had fallen hopelessly, dangerously in love.

At Manatee high, where wealth whispers through the marble halls and last names open doors, Emma Carter stands out for all the wrong reasons. She’s there on a scholarship — smart, quiet, and completely out of place among the designer uniforms and polished smiles. Her father works long hours as a construction worker, and her mother’s absence still echoes through every choice she makes. All Emma wants is to survive senior year unnoticed. Connor Hayes Charming, confident, and born into old money, he moves through school like he owns it — because, in a way, he does. But behind the perfect image lies someone quietly restless, bored of the shallow routines and expectations his family forces on him. When a class project throws Emma and Connor together, their worlds collide. What starts as polite conversation turns into stolen glances, late-night talks, and moments that make Emma question everything she’s been taught about people like him. For the first time, Connor finds someone who doesn’t care about his last name — someone who sees him. But no everyone is happy about it ,The whispers start. And soon, Emma isn’t sure if she’s part of Connor’s world — or just an experiment in rebellion. As emotions deepen, the line between love and heartbreak blurs. Emma learns that privilege comes with its own cages, and Connor realizes that sincerity can’t be bought. Together, they must decide whether what they have can survive the pressure of judgment, jealousy, and fear — or if love alone isn’t enough to bridge two very different worlds. “Emma and Connor” is a coming-of-age romance about class, courage, and finding where you belong — even when the world tells you that you don’t.

On my birthday, I personally prepare 16 dishes. After setting up the candlelight, I open a bottle of red wine. I take a photo and send it to my husband, Eric Sinclair. "I'm working late tonight. Don't wait for me," he replies. I choose to believe him. But after midnight, I notice an Instagram story posted by Shirley Huxley, his secretary. Eric was there with her, dressed in the trench coat I once gave him. They sat side by side in the VIP seat of football stadium where my favorite Super Bowl take place. Entwined in a passionate embrace, they kissed beneath a sea of shimmering lights and the roar of thousands of fans. That game is the one I have always longed to experience with him. I look down at the cold food on the table. Eric's words keep ringing in my head. "I hate kissing." "Marriage is a partnership, not about love and kisses." Though we've been married for ten years, we've never shared a single kiss. Meanwhile, he's out there, kissing Shirley openly and passionately. Despite it all, not a single tear falls from my eyes. The next day, Eric settles into his chair, completely unfazed. "Return the gallery to Shelly," he commands. I nod quietly, saying nothing. Suddenly, Layla Sinclair, my daughter, comes running down the stairs and throws herself into Shirley's arms. "Aunt Shirley, you're my favorite. I don't like Mom!" In that instant, it hits me—the home I devoted my heart and soul to means nothing anymore. It doesn't matter that I've been married to Eric for a decade. Now, all I want is to find myself again. I decide to accept an invitation from the Parisoir School of Fashion Design. From this moment on, I won't wait for them to come home, and I won't look back.

Content Warning: This book is rated +18 and is intended for adults only. It delves into explicit sexual content, graphic language and morally questionable themes. “Tell me, Summer” he said quietly, voice dropping seductively low, his hot breath fanning the back of my neck. “Are you tired of playing the devoted little wife to my brother?” The question hit like a direct blow to the gut.  My breath hitched.  This was so wrong, I told myself over and over, my fists clenching so hard. But still, it didn't stop my pussy from pulsing so fast.  I clenched my thighs, hard, but it was pointless. The ache was already too intense. I felt soaked, strung tight. I could feel my juice sliding down my thigh. He was close. Too close.  If I had moved back an inch, I would have felt his chest against my back. I hated how much I wanted that. I hated how badly I craved something I should never have entertained.  He was my brother-in-law.  Winter may be cold, but these nights are anything but.  DIRTY AFFAIRS is an Erotic Compilation that dives into the kind of decadent desire that leaves you soaking wet one dirty chapter at a time. Behind closed doors, lovers give in to cravings they've denied for far too long—cravings that bind, bruise, consume and heal in equal measure.  Each story unwraps a different forbidden thrill: long-buried obsession reignited at cozy reunions, dangerous chemistry with one person you shouldn't want, irresistible pull towards someone who sees every secret hunger you thought you've tucked safely away. Here, characters surrender to passion that is both tender and consuming—power play, obsession, temptation, tension that coils tight as ribbon around a gift meant to be opened slowly…or ripped.

It had been five years since I started dating Ross Jenner. His family invited my mother and me to their family home in Fellaton to discuss our wedding plans and to spend Valentine's Day together. It was past 10:00 PM when my mother and I landed, but Ross wasn't there to pick us up because his college junior, Laurel Elledge, had just arrived in Fellaton. He told me to figure out a way to get a cab to the house myself. In a strange place, unfamiliar with the area, it wasn't long before we found ourselves in danger. Just over ten minutes outside the airport, we were robbed. My mother was injured while trying to protect me, and she collapsed, bleeding heavily. Desperate, I held onto her, frantically trying to call Ross. Each call was abruptly cut off, and when I finally reached him, he sounded irritated. "Jennifer, you're an adult, so stop acting like a child. You couldn't even hail a cab on the street? Laurel just got to Fellaton and isn't feeling well. I need to take care of her." Without waiting for a response, he hung up. I tried calling again, only to find that I had been blocked. In the end, my mother's injuries were too severe, and she bled out before the doctors could save her. As I stared at her lifeless body, tears flowed uncontrollably. When I finally checked my phone again, the first thing I saw was a picture Ross had posted on Twitter. In the photo, he was kissing Laurel and holding a bouquet of roses. [Spending Valentine's Day with the one I love most.] I quietly threw the gifts I had brought from home into the trash. Then, I left a comment, which said, [Wishing you both a lifetime of happiness.]

"You stupid whore," Jasper snarls, fingers digging into my arms hard enough to bruise, shaking me like I'm nothing. "Name the bastard who dared touch what's mine, or I'll carve it out of you myself... rip that filthy seed from your womb and make you watch." ----- One reckless night of freedom, a stranger's fangs at my throat, his cock splitting me open as he growls, “Cum on this cock, you lying little virgin bitch. Squeeze me like the greedy cumdump you’ve always been underneath all that lace. I’m gonna flood your womb so deep you’ll carry my seeds while you swear forever to another man.” ---- And my perfect mafia wedding implodes into hell. I fall at the altar and wake up pregnant. Shame turns to bloodlust. “Puttana sporca." Families clash, knives half‑drawn, abortion demanded. My body no longer mine, just flesh to be gutted and erased. Then the door crashes open and Jasper drops to an instant bow and whispers, "Father." The man strides in and squats beside me, inhaling my scent and his voice cuts into me "Why,” he asked quietly, “do I smell my pup in you?” I stare up wide-eyed at the stranger ... and then at my new husband bowing to him, and realization hit me...I am carrying my father-in-law's child. The untouchable werewolf alpha, Dax Blackthorne, the monster who buries empires and enemies alike... just claimed the forbidden growing in my womb. His pup. Born of one drunken savage knot. In a blood‑soaked empire ruled by taboo claims, werewolf dominance, clashes, and mafia violence, a fragile human girl must harden into something venomous or be consumed alive by men who believe her body, her womb, and her fate already belong to them. One filthy mistake. One impossible pup. And now everything burns.

She thought he was her dream—until he became her wrecking ball. Mia believed in fairy tales because her parents lived one. Raised in love, she dreamed of a man like her father: gentle, loyal, and kind. So when Noah Bradford walked in with a charming smile and stormy eyes, she thought she had found forever. But Noah wasn’t a dream. He was every warning wrapped in temptation. At twenty-five, he used love like a weapon. Haunted by a past where love meant betrayal, he vowed never to feel again. Mia wasn’t special—just another target. She should have walked away. But Mia stayed. Even when it hurt, even when he tried to break her, she held on—believing love could fix him. Then came Christian Turner. Assigned as Mia’s bodyguard, he quickly became more than a shadow. Calm, protective, and quietly intense, Christian vowed to keep her safe—because in his eyes, Mia’s tears weren’t just pain. They were danger. And Noah had done nothing but make her cry. Christian’s mission is clear: protect Mia, even if it means standing between her and the man she still loves. Even if Noah dares to return. But Mia’s heart isn’t the only thing at risk. Ava, the woman who discarded Noah, wants him back. Hannah, the only woman he ever loved, has unfinished business. And Isabella—Mia’s younger sister—is hungry for Noah, and the family fortune, too. Trapped between her past and a man who would burn the world to protect her, Mia must face the truth: sometimes love doesn’t heal. It destroys. Will she walk away with her heart intact or lose herself trying to save someone who never wanted to be saved?

“You stare like you’re trying to memorize me,” she murmured quietly, without looking up. He stepped closer, voice rough. “I already have. Every inch. Every sigh. But I still feel like I’m starving for you.” He walked up behind her. His fingers trail over her collarbone, slow, reverent. She shivers. “You shouldn’t touch me like that,” she whispered. “Say stop, and I will. But don’t lie.” He leaned down, brushing his lips against the side of her neck. Her breath hitched. “This… this is dangerous.” He murmured, “You’re the most dangerous thing in my life. I’ve killed men with steadier hands than I have when I’m near you.” She turned to face him, their eyes locked. One look—everything trembled between them. “Let me ruin every thought you have of gentleness, Inayat. Let me be the fire you crave but don’t dare name.” He lifted her, gently, set her on the table beside the couch. His hands lingered on her thighs, the tension coiling like smoke in the air. He whispered, “You asked me once why I watch you like I might break. It’s because loving you has become my most violent instinct.” *** When King Agnil is betrayed and slain by his own commander, Samarth, his kingdom falls into chaos—and his daughter, Inayat, becomes the obsession of the man who murdered her father. Years later, the exiled prince, Ayman, returns to reclaim the throne. His plan? Use Samarth’s sister as a weapon of revenge. But as vengeance tangles with emotion, Ayman finds himself torn between justice and the forbidden pull of love. Can he destroy the man who stole everything—without losing the girl who might save him?

Thor and I grew up together—we were the definition of childhood sweethearts. We'd promised to attend the same university, graduate, and marry right after senior year. Everyone envied us. They said we were a perfect match, destined for a lifetime together. And I believed that too. I truly thought I'd spend the rest of my life with him. Until the final semester of our senior year in high school, when a new transfer student named Lina joined our class. At first, the two barely spoke. But as they grew familiar, their bond deepened in ways I could no longer ignore. He started staying after school to tutor her, bringing her breakfast every morning. When she was upset, he'd take her for a drive along the coast. If she craved Italian steak, he'd have fresh cuts flown in. Even during her period, he'd quietly prepare everything she needed. I was furious. I confronted him, argued with him, and even threatened to break up. The first time I said it, he thought I was joking and coaxed me out of my anger. The second time, he dismissed it as another tantrum and tried different ways to please me. The third time, he broke down—standing outside my house in the pouring rain all night, half kneeling before me, begging for forgiveness. Again and again, I tried to leave, and every time, he refused to let me go. Yet with each reconciliation, something in him shifted. He started taking me for granted, assuming I would always come back. His patience wore thin. His apologies turned perfunctory. Even when he came to make peace, there was no sincerity left in his voice. So I said it for the hundredth time, and that was the last. That was the moment I finally gave up on him.

Elena had once believed that silence could mean safety. That a gentle hand and a warm cup of tea placed quietly on her desk every morning could be a form of love. Lucien was never cruel—not in the obvious ways. He remembered how she liked her eggs, noticed when she swapped her perfume, and sent flowers on days he knew she wouldn’t expect them. He raised her like one would raise a pet—softly, without question. And Elena, foolish in the way only the very lonely can be, mistook his quiet affection for devotion. She told herself he was reserved. Mysterious. That love didn’t always wear its heart on its sleeve. But when the old flame returned—the one who spoke his language without needing to try—Elena saw it. The difference. He looked at her like a man who had found his lost religion. And Elena? She had simply been convenient. No tears, no scene. Just papers on the breakfast table, beside the eggs he cooked perfectly. She didn’t accuse or beg. She only asked for freedom. He didn’t sign. He chuckled. A soft, dismissive sound. “A cat raised indoors doesn’t know how to survive on the street, Elena. You’ll come back." But she didn’t. She disappeared, like smoke—except she didn’t vanish, not really. She lived. She wore colour again. Laughed at bad jokes. Let strange men hand her coffee and ask for her number. Lucien? He watched. He watched her become someone without him. And it drove him mad. The night he cornered her outside the gallery, rain in his hair and desperation in his eyes, he looked like a man undone. "Elena," he breathed, "please. Look at me. Just once." She did. Calm as ever, and her love already gone.