Tiptoe Table Legs Novels & Stories

He slid a paper across the table, his eyes cold. " Sign it." She blinked, confused. "Why?" "It’s our marriage certificate." He spoke as if discussing the weather. "I’ve already signed it. Your turn." Siya froze. **Marriage?** To a man like him? Her? A whore. Pregnant. She looked up at him, pleading. "I-I can be your maid. Do anything. Just… don’t hurt my baby." Her voice trembled, careful, trying to bargain with the devil himself. But Abhimanyu’s gaze was relentless, unmoved. His tone cut like ice. "I want you to sign it right now." Her heart hammered in her chest. "But… how… why me?" She stuttered, breaking. "I don’t want to marry you." She stood, defiance shaking her body. The word **marriage** tasted like ash, reminding her of someone she loathed beyond reason. Abhimanyu leaned in, his smile devoid of warmth. "You **will** marry me. Or…" The room fell silent, thick with the unspoken threat. **The world knows** what he is capable of. "Plea.se," she whispered. Her voice was barely a breath. Siya’s legs screamed to run. But there was nowhere to go. His voice low, lethal. "Listen to me, TweetyBird. If I can save you, I can ruin you too.' His eyes darkened. "Sign it. And you’ll be mine." "Why me?" Her voice broke. ************ Siya laid on the bed on her fours, her hands tied together with a handcuff as Abhimanyu thrusted slowly from her back. He changed their position making her completely under his mercy. As the sun rose in the sky, he uncuffed her. "Scream my name!" He groaned going faster than before. But his pace didn’t slacken at all. He had turned into a needy beast, who was ruining every ounce of sanity left in Siya. *********** ***********

THIS BOOK CONTAINS EXPLICIT CONTENT🔞 Daddy’s Sweet Addiction is a collection of addictive stories packed with obsession, temptation, jealousy, and desire. One glance starts the craving. One touch makes it worse. And once they fall into temptation, there’s no turning back. …… He slammed me against the bed, and as I opened my eyes, I was treated to a sight. His black pants slipped off his muscular legs, revealing he didn’t miss leg days at the gym. “I want that… I want,” I begged. I knew I would be embarrassed by my appeal later, but my mouth just spoke for the inaudible pussy lips. A girl just wanted what she wanted. “Isn’t that why we are here?” Again, his voice rumbled as he slipped the briefs off his hips. “This is what you will get in two days,” he said. I spread my legs like some shameless whore….

I confirmed Vincent Lowe was cheating on me on the day of our third wedding anniversary. The dining table was filled with dishes, yet he barely touched his fork before heading out the door. "Where are you going?" I asked. His answer was unnervingly straightforward. "A friend's treating me to dinner. Cassidy Mason—you know her, right? It's a free meal. It'd be a waste not to accept." An hour later, however, I received a voice message from Cassidy. In the message, Vincent's voice was lighter and livelier—so different from how he ever sounded with me. "They say you should marry someone you can truly enjoy a meal with. I really regret meeting you so late. If only I had known you earlier, I would've married you instead." I listened in silence. Then, alone at the table, I finished every last bite of the meal I had prepared. Afterward, I left a divorce agreement behind.

I'm undressed and bound to a testing table when my family comes to pick me up. A thick, sharp needle pierces into my neck. A drug is administered into my blood, and the pain almost makes me lose consciousness. Behind me, I can feel a man's cold hands stroking my skin amorously. Before me, several people are staring at me. They point at me and treat me like an educational instrument. I tremble in fear and curl up on the testing table in pain. Three years ago, my brother sent me to Mykorra's war zone to stand up for Yvette Sanders. Those were the three most insulting and torturous years of my life. They burned away my hope for kinship but not my desire for survival. As the hands roam lower on my body, I bite my lip so hard that I almost draw blood. As the hands start to go overboard, someone knocks on the door. "Wendy Sanders, your brother is here for you."

32 year old Sophie decided it's time to stop hiding so she filled up an application to be a Sugar Baby. Weekends that used to be filled up with Netflix and comfort food are now changed into a high-paying profession. Well, weekend profession. She's still the busy working mom of 2 during the weekdays. 19 year old Abigail is the average college girl who has a cuckoo aunt. Her proposal has backfired when her aunt decided to use her info in the profile she's setting up at Cupcake, a Sugar Baby website. Let's hope nobody finds out Abigail signed up as a Sugar Baby. Let's pray harder for Aunt Sophie who has the confidence to pull off being an Abigail during the weekends. Cross your fingers! And your legs too, Soph. I mean, Abby. Err, Weekend-Abby. Cross your legs, Weekend-Abby!

Your legs are shaking baby girl and your breath is heavy. Is that fear i perceive or is it the burning lust you have for me?” He pressed closer into me, my body sinking into the wall and he raised one of my legs around his torso….. He didn’t come looking for trouble. Trouble came looking for him. In this sizzling, erotic collection, five married women reveal what really happened behind closed doors after Daniel, the new man moved into town. From voyeuristic discovery to unapologetic seduction, from slow-burn longing to reckless surrender, each story pulls back the curtain on desire that refuses to stay quiet. Raw. Competitive. Intoxicating. Because sometimes the most dangerous thing a woman can feel… is wanted. Warning: This book is full of exciting erotic short stories. It contains mature content and only is meant for 18+ readers. This steamy collection is filled with cliffhangers and forbidden romance. Read, enjoy and tell me your favourite part.

THE LIE is all about a newlywed couple who have not has sex through throughout the dating stage and on their wedding night fear gripped her when she saw how huge‘’Cucumber’’ between his legs is. This affects their relationship as she had lied to him that she is not a V-irgin

My dad arrives at the hotel after taking three bus rides from the town two hours before the wedding starts. He's wearing the old suit that he has kept for the past ten or so years. The cuffs have gone white from all the washing, and his shoes shine brightly from all the polishing. Before entering, Dad has specifically pinned the red boutonniere to his chest several times while looking at his reflection in the glass of the hotel's main entrance just so he can get it right. After all, it symbolizes his status as the bride's father. When Dad is about to take his seat, he grasps the card that shows his seat as he approaches my future husband, Elliott Chambers, tentatively. "Elliott, there seems to be a mistake with my seat." Elliott merely glances at the card before pushing it back to Dad. "Your seat is correct. There are limited spots at the main table, so you'll have to sit at a spare table at the back." Dad is stunned by Elliott's answer. "But it says here that I'm meant to sit at the main table…" Elliott frowns at Dad. "This is a last-minute adjustment. The shareholders and important clients of Chambers Corp will be attending my wedding today. Not everyone gets to sit at the main table." Dad looks down at his old suit before he slowly stuffs the card back into his pocket. He wants to take off the boutonniere, but the pin gets stuck in the fabric of his jacket. The more he wants to take it off, the more his hand keeps shaking. That's when Elliott's mother, Catherine Aldridge, speaks up. "All the seats are the same, Patrick. Don't cause any trouble for Elliott now." Dad quickly nods in response. "You're right. I'm fine with any seat." Then, he picks up the old wooden chest that's sitting by his feet before heading toward the spare table that's located in the corner. I raise my head, only to see a seating card titled "The Carvers" being placed on the most obvious spot of the main table. At the moment, Elliott is helping Claire Carver's mother into her seat. As for my dad, he's hugging the chest containing the wedding gifts meant for me while sitting by the kitchen door.

"Spread your legs, little omega slut," he said to me. "I am sorry, there are rules here, sir. We do not sleep with customers here." "Who made those rules?" he asked, whirling the wine in his glass. "The owner of this place," I replied, irritated by all the unnecessary questions. "Who is the owner of this place?" "Mr. Killian Cabello." I replied tersely. This man was arrogant and wanted to defile the rules to show me he could do whatever he wanted. He took out a card from his pocket and handed it to me. "I usually do not give out my card to the likes of you but look at it." I looked at the card and saw his name written boldly on it. He was the owner of this place. He made those rules and is willing to break them now? My eyes widened at the realization. I looked at him. "You are Killian Cabello?" He smirked devilishly. "Now, spread your legs, Omega."

My ex-boyfriend, the Don's heir, was getting married today. In the grand reception hall, the bride, Elena, moved through the crowd with a champagne flute in hand, toasting the bosses and captains who'd flown in from across the island. In the dressing room, Luca had me pinned against the gown the bride had just changed out of, fucking me hard. The mirror gave me back a stranger, hair tangled, not a stitch of clothing left on me, my neck covered in marks he'd left like a signature. The camera on the side table blinked red. Three knocks at the door. Luca stood up, straightened the white rose boutonniere on his lapel, picked up the black earpiece from the table and pressed it in. He tossed it at me without looking. "One night. Half a million euros. Anna, you're even pricier than I remembered." I watched his back as he walked out, and picked up the check with shaking hands. Rosa, don't be scared. Mama's got the money to save you.