Tell Me A Scary Story นิยาย & เรื่องราว

I'm due for a promotion when I stumble upon my husband entangled with his childhood sweetheart. After that, I'm secretly admitted to a psychiatric facility. I repeatedly tell the doctors that I'm fine, but all I get is worse abuse and humiliation. When Howard Armstrong visits me every month, I beg him to get me out. Each time, he says, "This is a proper establishment, so you have to follow the doctor's instructions. Don't be unreasonable!" On the day I'm discharged, he speaks to me tenderly and calls me his honey. Later, when I place a divorce agreement before him, he breaks down in tears.

This isn’t your merry little Christmas , it’s your dirtiest one yet. Dirty Christmas unwraps every forbidden fantasy you’ve ever wanted to taste. From strangers under mistletoe to sinful nights by the fire, every page drips with heat, hunger, and raw, unapologetic pleasure. These short stories are filthy, fast, and meant to leave you breathless, one by one, they’ll melt your holiday spirit into desire. If you’re not into adult, mature, and explicit erotica, don’t open this book. But if you’re ready to sin in red and gold… welcome to your next obsession. You can also check out my other erotica book (Deep inside)

“Is that how you thank me for saving your ass?” I could feel his warm breath against my skin, a mix of mint and alcohol. His face was clearer now as the moonlight spilled on us. * * * * * Betrayed, broke, betrothed. Savannah McGrathy lost it all after her father's death shattered her once perfect world. Her stepmother and stepsister changed from the loving family she once knew, stripping her of everything she had. Betrayed by her boyfriend and stepsister and now, betrothed to the ruthless billionaire Diego Montenegro, she is hopeless with no way out. But Diego has a secret from a masked party five years ago—the one night that changed everything. He is obsessed and hopelessly in love. He remembers her clearly but Savannah has no idea they've met before. Now, he will do whatever it takes to protect her, not just from her enemies but from the demons within himself.

[WARNINGMATURED CONTENTS! RATED 18] -----~[[AMELIA]~----- ~AND I KNOW WHAT WE'RE DOING ISN'T RIGHT BUT NO ONE ELSE TOUCHES ME LIKE YOU DO~ In the small, picturesque town of Willowbrook, eighteen-year-old Amelia Thompson finds herself caught in a tempestuous and forbidden romance that could tear apart her friendships and shatter her world. "SIN FOR ME" tells the gripping tale of Amelia's struggle to navigate her burgeoning feelings for her best friend's father, while he becomes increasingly obsessed with her. Amelia has always admired Mr. Daniel Mitchell from afar. As a well-respected businessman and devoted father, he exudes charm, intelligence, and mystery. But when Amelia's feelings for him evolve from innocent infatuation to something deeper and more complex, she is consumed by guilt and conflicted emotions. Determined to suppress her forbidden desires, she resolves to distance herself from him and protect her best friend, Lily, from the truth. However, Mr. Mitchell isn't willing to let Amelia go. As the lines blur between love and obsession, he becomes relentless in his pursuit, determined to make Amelia his own. His dangerous infatuation threatens to unravel Amelia's carefully constructed world, and she finds herself torn between her loyalty to Lily, her desires, and the potential consequences of their illicit romance. As the story unfolds, Amelia is faced with difficult choices, heart-wrenching betrayals, and an undeniable attraction that she cannot ignore. She grapples with her moral compass, societal expectations, and the taboo nature of their relationship, all while desperately trying to protect the people she loves. "SIN FOR ME" is a gripping tale of forbidden love, exploring themes of desire, loyalty, and the consequences of succumbing to our deepest passions. Will Amelia find the strength to resist the allure of an illicit romance, or will she succumb to the intoxicating power of forbidden love?

Note: This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, and incidents are either the products of the author's imagination or used in a fictitious manner. The story contains explicit adult content of a sexual nature and should not be read by anyone under the age of 18. "Say you're a slut." He said, watching her finger herself, absentmindedly stroking his dick. "I," she gasped, closing her eyes, but being thrilled at saying the words, "I am a slut.. oh, please fuck me." He turned her around, forcing her up onto her hands and knees. She felt him run his hands down her back, up her spread ass, and finally pull on her hips as he positioned himself behind her. She moaned and turned herself up for him, pushing her open cunt back onto him. He leaned forward and grabbed her braids, pulling her head back as he rammed his dick inside her hard. She cried out and tightened around his dick, "Oh god, yes, fuck me. Fuck me hard and dirty." She moaned out. "I'm a fucking slut. Hurt my pussy."

“Oh yes, Daddy, just like that!” That was me crying from the computer; slowly I turned to look to see if there was a video when I was met with Daddy's cock. He had shoved down his pants, and oh my god, it was just as beautiful as I imagined. Thick, hard of cum that made me wetter. I just wanted to get on my little knees and suck it dry. "I've been jerking to your videos.” He groaned, his hand now slowly running through his beautiful cock; holy fuck, it made my tits hard. Hearing that he's been jerking to my videos and that he's been recording me secretly, creepy in a way that made my clit twitch.

I took a shortcut through the alley and watched Dante Marchetti put a bullet in a man like it was nothing. He saw my face. That was the end of my normal life. Within an hour I was in the back of his car being driven to an estate I had never seen before with gates that locked from the outside and a wardrobe full of clothes in my exact size waiting like someone had known I was coming before I did. He told me I wasn't a prisoner but a guest. He said people who wanted to find me were considerably worse than him and that his walls were the only thing standing between me and a conversation I wouldn't survive. Maybe he was right. The problem is the longer I stayed the harder it became to remember which one was true. Because the man who caught me in that alley wasn't the only version of him. There was another one that nobody else seemed to get to see. The one who stood alone in his dead mother's library looking tired in a way that had nothing to do with sleep. The one who had my cat brought to the estate because he heard me crying through a closed door and didn't know what else to do about it. The one who almost smiled when I threw a glass at his head. That version of him was the one I couldn't stop thinking about. I came here as a witness. I stayed as something else entirely. Somewhere between the locked doors, the candlelit dinners and the secrets we started sharing in the dark I stopped wanting to leave. The question was whether a woman like me could survive loving a man like him. I was about to find out.

The church was full of different kinds of majestic decorations. A theme of white and gold, the color that is perfectly expressing both purity and prosperity. Indeed, it is really f*cking wonderful. But then... On this fre*king wonderful day who would have thought that a mere guest like me who was forced to attend this d*mn wedding of my damn stepsister will become the bride??! “She is right here. The… bride is here. We shall start the ceremony, Mr. Morgan” “Is it her?” “Y-yes. She is the one you will marry.” “Wait what, me?!”

Found in the marooned ruins of Chavand was a book ripped and torn. Its yellowed pages eaten up and coiled. Forgotten and unheard about was this book until it came to light. His legends lived on, his tales of valour prevailed. His glory seemed enternal and he was worshiped and adored. But his heart remained shrouded in a cloak of mystery. His emotions, his turmoils went unnoticed in an attempt to make him great. Seen as someone who was invincible and immortal, the Rana changes your perspective from his greatness to his soft heart. Written across the pages during his last moments, he wrote his own life. Where bards would be at a loss and poets were simply lost in his glory and valor, the Rana is said to be the only one who could write about himself.

I'm eight months pregnant when I suddenly faint on the train. My husband panics and cries for help as he kneels beside me. An interning doctor hurries to me. She doesn't bother checking my condition before saying, "The patient needs to undergo a C-section! We have to get the baby out now, or it might die of suffocation!" Then, she slices me open with a fruit knife—she doesn't take any precautionary measures before doing so. She takes my child out. I'm in so much pain that I don't even have the strength to scream. My blood flows everywhere. Yet, a photo of her holding my baby while standing in a pool of blood goes viral. People call her the prettiest doctor alive. My husband and his family are eternally grateful to her. They don't go after her for causing my death; they even make her my child's godmother! Meanwhile, I'm given a simple cremation. No one cares about me. After my death, all my assets go to my husband and his family. Only then do I hear my husband and the doctor talking to each other, sounding smug. "This plan killed two birds with one stone. We got rid of that woman and made ourselves out to be heroes!" That's when I learn the interning doctor is my husband's junior from high school. They got together when he accompanied me to my prenatal checkups! She failed her internship, so my husband came up with this idea—he wanted to use my death to boost her reputation and help her! Even my child eventually died under their "care". When I open my eyes again, I'm taken back to the day we get on the train.