The Mistress Book Novels & Stories

Her heels rattled down the hallway as she tried to find his way to her room. The receptionist downstairs had been more than ready to let her into his room. Not surprising. The billionaire playboy must have frequented this place with numerous women whom he barely knew their names. It's just a mission, Emily told herself as she approached The room. All I have to do is have sex with him and secure my place as his personal assistant, steal from him and leave him forever. He's never even going to see it coming. She had no idea how much longer she would keep crossing paths with Edmund Hamilton.

To think of the hell Alicia went through when Damon married Elizabeth must've been how I was feeling right now. I am such a fool! Hours from now I will be branded as the mistress, a title Rachel once held dearly and which will never be enough for me. "Liliana open the door!" Damon shouted, hitting the door with his might. Amidst all of this little Liliana was my comfort, I pushed the cradle back and forth, watching her sleeping was bliss only that she could be disturbed by Damon. I left her in the cradle and went ahead to attend to Damon before he create anymore drama for the both of us.

That's what mistresses were for. They were to be used in extreme ways. For helping their masters release their tension on their bodies. For fulfilling their wild desires and for bearing what the males can't do to any other females except for their mates. She knew this was the fate any mistress lived yet she preferred to be one for Alpha Alan. He had something she could not overlook. Hence, the pain rendered by him on her was nothing but sweet pleasure. Wild yet sweet. Even though her body didn't support her, she tried once again. She was about to give it a try when the door of Alpha's chambers was forced open.

She stood back, arms folded, her eyes sharp and proud as the women collapsed around me, panting, sated, their lips slick with me, their bodies shining with sweat. I wasn’t a man anymore. I wasn’t even Henry. I was a manuscript—read, annotated, memorized. A book they had written themselves into, page by page. “You’ve been read,” Mistress said softly. Her voice was almost tender, but her smile carried nothing but possession. “Page by page. Line by line.” Then—darkness. When I woke, I wasn’t on the table, or in the library.

“It’s one thing for me to make mistakes. But you” “Me?” she cut in, a faint edge in her tone. “I didn’t ask you to get a mistress, Damian. I even loved you enough to let you be,to let us all fun,Except for that slush fund disaster that day I couldn’t look past it then. But now? Now it’s in the past.” Her words hit him like cold water. Loved him enough… to allow him a mistress? His mind reeled at the paradox. He stared at her, trying to decipher whether she meant it or whether it was another of her clever manipulations.

From the lady's look, I suspected that she was the mistress in charge, and so I followed behind Christine until I stood before the mistress. "And who might you be?" The mistress asked me as she tried to distance herself away from me. "I'm Layla..." I said with an excitement in my tone, smiling so broadly one would ask what was the cause of the ecstasy within me. "I want to serve here" I said to her I watched as the mistress looked at me, and then turned her gaze towards Christine who stood by her side, both of them looking so startled at the way I hit the nail on the head. "Is that so?" She asked me, looking at me from my head to my toe and also stretching her neck to see if she could have a

It was like cleaning up the chaos did not just involve the suite; it pulled at the chaos inside me, too. I took a shower. The warm water poured over me like a silent lullaby, washing away sweat, dust, and despair. I stood under the stream longer than I needed to, letting it numb the noise in my head. When I stepped out, I wrapped myself in the thick robe and padded barefoot to the bed. I lay down and stared at the ceiling. My body was still, but my mind carried me to another world. A darker one. Garrick’s mansion. The memories came in waves. I thought about the grand staircase, the velvet walls, the women I once called my sisters. Glenda with her false kindness, Natalie with her sharp eyes,

She smiled with her eyes half-closed, telling me stories from Orion’s childhood, when suddenly a figure rushed forward and slapped the bouillabaisse out of her hands. The soup splashed all over her face and clothes, even into her eyes. I didn’t have time to demand an explanation. Neither did Mr. Hale. We hurried to wipe her clean. However, Vera refused to let it go. "Lyra, do you even know what kind of place this is? This is Mooncrest Pavilion! Where did trashy, poor people like you come from? You can’t even finish a bowl of bouillabaisse without packing it up, and you still have the nerve to eat here?"

Up close, she was a carbon copy of her. It was a memory the Great Mistressw as showing her, Laylin figured. The Mistress was holding The Book of Oath and surprisingly the book was open. Laylin had never seen that book open, not even the one Valerie and Berila brought. Somehow the mistress seemed to have aged. In the first memory where she saw her in the projection from the Book of Oath, she seemed to be a woman in her twenties. Right now the woman had a mature and warm fondness about her even when she was frowning.

Mistress – A Tainted Identity Part 2 Author’s POV "Look at her attitude, highly as if she is a princess of somewhere whereas she is just his mistress, bed warmer bitch” “Do you remember how proud her father used to be on how beautiful his daughter is, now see she is using her beauty to seduce a man who can satisfy her branded needs" "I would rather die than become someone's mistress, flitty piece of shit” “What a piece of meat she is, I want to fuck her raw and rough”