Tlh Dress Code Novels & Stories

“What?!” I finally manage to croak out. “Let me fuck you”he repeats Okay so I heard him correctly. I turn to leave but then remember that Clare is probably riding Shane’s dick right now so I stop.I think about it for a second then I decide that I’m going to do it. My core clenches at the thought of having sex for the first time and I become more aware that I want to do this. “Okay”I tell him I walk back to the room locking the door.I take off my dress and then walk towards the random stranger who is beckoning me with his finger. This is so fucked up but I’m determined to enjoy this so I don’t pay too much attention to the details because that’ll only make me overthink this. Besides all I ever wanted was to lose my virginity to Shane Ryder but now that he is balls deep inside Clare Haistings I don’t think that matters anymore. He takes his shirt off, his torso and chest rippling. I almost let out a moan. The dim lights are making him look like a sex God and its honestly the alcohol but I suddenly can’t wait to have him inside me. I run my hands down his tight torso.

Deep in the night, the ballroom was filled with splendor and dazzling Jewells. Young women showed off their slim figures wearing tight-ass corsets. Eloise shrunk to the corner, adjusting his boobs in her makeshift bra. ‘Fuck who is crazy enough to wear a corset. They want to destroy their ribs, don’t they….’ “Eloise,” a middle-aged woman happily waved at her from the center of a huge crowd. Eloise back away. “that’s my cue to leave. No way am I going over there,” she subtly ran out of the ballroom into the hallway. The cold wind and salty droplets hit her face as she moved closer to the edge of the ship. Suddenly a man in a majestic three-piece suit walked up to her. It was duke Raymond. ‘he must have been chased around by girls. Poor guy having such a handsome face is also dangerous,’ she thought, casually sipping her wine. he moved dangerously closer, panting softly. “Duke you are too close.” She reminded him. He suddenly cupped her face and kissed her lips. His sharp tooth tore into her bottom lips. “hmmm!!” Blood dripped down their connected faces, staining her beautiful white dress red. Eloise pushed him away hurriedly. “Duke! What the hell…” Glancing up, she froze. His eyes were blood red. “I want your blood, Eloise… I want you so bad.” “Huh! I thought you were gay! Hey!”

I send my sister, Lola Graham, to my couture boutique to pick out a wedding dress. As she is leaving, a trainee clerk, Kayla Larson, demands three million for the gown. Helpless, Lola says my name. "I'm the owner's sister. I don't have to pay." Kayla rolls her eyes. "You're pranking the wrong store. Our boss doesn't have a sister. You're just broke and trying to scam us!" she snapped, blocking my sister's way. "This is your last warning—either pay up, or I'll rip that dress off you and throw you out!" Stunned, Lola calls me. When I rush over, I hear my long-time store manager standing deferentially behind Kayla, warning Lola, "You'd better behave. The woman in front of you is our boss' wife. Cross her, and you'll regret it." "Trying to fake your way in here? You've got some nerve," Kayla sneers, adding to my sister's humiliation. My hand freezes on the door. Without hesitation, I cut off my husband's secondary credit card and call him. "Have I been too generous with you? Or did giving you too much money make you think you could afford another woman behind my back?"

Lewis Gordon says he likes older women. Seeing that he's young, energetic, and good in bed, I agree to be his girlfriend. But when he runs into me with his friends while I'm dressed in business attire, he is stunned and doesn't know how to react. Then, he quickly introduces me. "She's just a neighbor like an auntie." What? Middle-aged? I immediately break up with him. He sends a clumsy explanation, "When you dress like a middle-aged woman, it's really embarrassing for me." I block him and don't bother replying. Five years later, I bring my son along to celebrate my husband's godfather's birthday. Lewis shows up, holding hands with his girlfriend. When he hears my son call Johann Tucker "Grandpa Johann," he pulls a long face. He blurts, "This is my son, right? He should be calling him great-grandfather." I shoot him a look of pure disgust. "He's not your son." Lewis points at my son's face and sneers, "Look at his eyes and his face. He looks exactly like me. How can you still insist he's not my son?" All I can think of is my extremely jealous husband. If he hears Lewis claiming that he's my son's father, will he go crazy and kill him?

The champagne was flat, much like the expression on Julian’s face. "It’s not that I don’t love you, Elara," he said, adjusting his $5,000 suit jacket. "It’s just that you’ve become... predictable. I need a woman who challenges the world, not someone who waits for me to come home and tell her what color the sky is." Elara felt the sting of the words more than the cold wind on the balcony. For six years, she had been Julian’s shadow. She had curated his life, managed his moods, and dimmed her own light so he could shine brighter. And now, on the night of his company’s gala, he was discarding her like an outdated software update. "Predictable?" she whispered, her voice cracking. "Go home, Elara. I’ve already had your things moved to the guest house. We can talk about a settlement in the morning." She didn't wait for the morning. She didn't wait for the "settlement." She walked out into the rain, her silk dress clinging to her skin like a second, cold layer of grief. It wasn't until three days later, sitting in a dingy motel with nothing but a suitcase and a bruised soul, that the notification popped up on her phone. ARE YOU READY TO LIVE FOR YOURSELF? ENTER THE SURVIVAL GAME. WIN YOUR FREEDOM. Elara stared at the golden icon on the screen. It felt like a trap. Or maybe, it was the only way out.

Three days before my wedding, my fiancé let his childhood friend alter my wedding dress. She even took the eighteen-carat blue diamond from my engagement ring and turned it into a pendant for herself. My fiancé, Lewis Chase, the most powerful mafia boss in Napels, was so afraid I would be angry that he boarded a cruise ship with his childhood friend, Quinn Turner, and left on an around-the-world voyage overnight. Lewis told me, “Eve, Quinn was just being cheeky. Don’t be upset. I’ll get you a new wedding dress and a new ring—the best money can buy. Once you've calmed down, I’ll come back, and we'll have our wedding.” He assumed I would argue and cry like I always had before, but when he returned a month later, he discovered that I had changed. I no longer got angry when he favored Quinn. I even allowed her to move into what was supposed to be our marital home. Lewis thought I had finally become more understanding, so he promised to give me the grandest wedding Napels had ever seen. What he didn’t know was that I had already given up on him. In three days, I would be boarding a flight to Switz. I didn't want the wedding anymore, and I didn't want him, either.

The day Sofia died, I scattered her ashes into the sea myself. In my last life, I called her my stepmother for thirteen years. She pulled me from dead last at a school in the slums to the top ten in the whole city, gave me the first dress of my life, and taught me how to sit straight at the Moreno dinner table and never bow my head to anyone. On the late nights when my father Leon got drunk and smashed his bottles, it was always her who closed my bedroom door first, then walked alone into the living room to face the man that love and power had already driven mad. Seven days after she died of her illness, Leon finally lost his mind. He charged into the sea off the old docks, screaming, "Sofia, I was wrong! I'm coming down to be with you!" I clung to him with everything I had, and in the struggle I fell into the freezing water myself. When I opened my eyes again, I was five years old. Sofia was crouched on the floor, tying my shoelaces. Her fingers were warm, the pads still carrying the thin calluses left by years of holding a pen over the ledgers. I threw my arms around her neck and buried my face in the crook of her shoulder. "Mommy, this time I don't want anyone else. I only want you."

On our seventh wedding anniversary, I was straddling my Mafia husband, Lucian, kissing him deeply. My fingers fumbled in the pocket of my expensive silk dress, searching for the pregnancy test I'd hidden there. I wanted to save the news of my unexpected pregnancy for the end of the evening. Lucian's right-hand man, Marco, asked with a suggestive smile in Italian: "Don, your new little canary, Sophia. How does she taste?" Lucian's mocking laughter vibrated through my chest, sending a chill down my spine. He replied, also in Italian: "Like an unripe peach. Fresh and tender." His hand was still caressing my waist, but his gaze was distant. "Just keep this between us. If my Donna finds out, I'm a dead man." His men chuckled knowingly, raising their glasses and swearing their silence. The warmth in my blood turned to ice, inch by inch. The one thing they didn’t know was that my grandmother was from Sicily, so I understood every word. I forced myself to remain calm, keeping the perfect smile of a Donna fixed in place, but the hand holding my champagne flute trembled. Instead of making a scene, I opened my phone, found the invitation I had received a few days ago for a private international medical research project, and tapped "Accept." In three days, I would disappear from Lucian's world completely.

After a fire broke out at the company, I shoved the only rescue rope into the hands of my husband, Peyton Shepherd. However, he yanked the smoke mask off my face and turned to secure it on his secretary, Hannah Russell, instead. Peyton escaped using the rescue rope, and Hannah remained unharmed thanks to the mask. I collapsed from inhaling toxic smoke, and then a falling pillar crashed into my stomach. Blood pooled beneath me. Just as the firefighters lifted me onto a stretcher, Peyton grabbed me and pulled me back down. "Serena, it's just a minor injury. Why are you lying on the stretcher? Let Hannah go to the hospital first. Her condition is serious, and she needs a comprehensive medical exam!" The firefighters and paramedics stared in shock. They looked at my blood-soaked dress, then Hannah crying pitifully over her blistered hand. My colleagues tried to intervene. "But Mr. Shepherd, Serena's injuries are clearly more severe!" Peyton snarled through gritted teeth. "Enough! I'm Serena's husband. Don't you think I know her condition? If Hannah's treatment gets delayed because of this, none of you will escape the consequences!" I pressed my hand against my slightly swollen lower abdomen and nodded, agreeing to let Hannah take the ambulance first. I decided that from this moment forward, neither I nor my unborn child owed Peyton anything.

Elena Miller’s life began twice—once before the cruise ship disaster, and once after it stole her memories and left her alone in a world that no longer recognized her. Taken in by a wealthy family, she was molded into the image of their lost daughter—trained to speak like her, dress like her, and live like her. For years, she survived as a replacement, surviving on borrowed love. But everything collapsed the day the real heiress returned, and Elena was cast aside as if she never mattered. Abandoned, broken, and unwanted, she should have faded into nothing. Instead, she caught the attention of Shaun Hayes. Shaun Hayes, heir to Australia’s most powerful family, is cold, calculating, and feared by everyone who knows his name. He does not chase. He does not lose. And he never looks at anyone twice—until Elena Miller. What begins as a dangerous fixation turns into something far worse: obsession. But as Shaun draws her deeper into his world, Elena starts uncovering fragments of a buried past—the cruise ship incident was not an accident, her identity was stolen, and every person around her has been lying about who she truly is. Now trapped between a hidden history, a family war she never knew she belonged to, and a man who refuses to let her go, Elena realizes the truth too late: Shaun Hayes doesn’t fall in love. He possesses.