Twenty Four Exo Mga Nobela at Kwento

Sinful Seduction is a scorching collection of forbidden short stories where desire defies rules and restraint. From taboo office affairs to reckless nights between enemies, each tale explores lust at its most dangerous and delicious. Secrets unravel, boundaries blur, and pleasure takes control. In a world where temptation reigns, every touch becomes a sinful invitation.

M“You want to stop? Fine. I’ll stop. But at the end of the day, pretty, you’re the one that’ll come begging.” “Want to bet?” My voice comes out shaky. Just like my legs.  Devon’s gray eyes light up, his lips curling into a smirk. “Bet. Which one of us gets to break before the wedding night.” This is a bad idea.  Everything in me is screaming not to take it.  I know. I fucking know.  Devon is a blockbuster curse. I’ve gotten a taste of him and I want more.  Heat and wetness floods my pussy. I want him again. I should refuse. I should walk back to Carter and pretend to be a loving wife. Instead, I nod. “Deal.” **** I caught my husband, Carter Stein, having sex with a man and a woman. His reply? “Our marriage is open now. This is normal. ” I tried to leave but he wouldn’t let me. Every opportunity to get a survive failed, and I was left at my wits end. Until I met him. Devon Sinclair. My husband’s older brother. A man soaked in danger and sex. I thought to myself “my perfect revenge.” But Devon wasn’t the savior I thought he was. No. He was the wolf. And I was the lamb naive enough to wander into his den. He sunk his teeth into me. Mind, body and soul. I can’t escape him, not even in death. I taste my blood on his kisses. He’ll ruin me, totally and beyond repair. I shouldn’t have crossed his path. I shouldn’t have kissed him. But I did. And the worst part? I’ll walk into his den again with an invitation taped on my forehead.

I spent two years drowning in guilt for an accident that wasn't my fault. Two years watching my husband transform into a monster who blamed me for the paralysis a drunk driver caused. Two years sacrificing pieces of myself for forgiveness I'd never earn. And then Adrian made one request that shattered what little dignity I had left. His birthday wish: Two weeks in Italy. His two best friends. My body. He wanted me to give them what he could no longer provide. I said yes because I didn't know how else to survive his threats, his manipulation, his systematic destruction of everything I used to be. What I didn't expect was how they'd look at me when I agreed—like I was cheap, disposable, exactly as worthless as I'd always believed. Matteo Greco touched me with hands that worshipped while his words cut deep, the Italian architect whose warmth turned ice-cold the moment I knocked on his door. Kian Ashford used me like I was nothing while his grey eyes promised I could be everything, the lawyer whose control shattered the same night mine did. They broke me completely. And broke their rules together with their hatred for eachother. Because Kian isn't just a lawyer—he's a Werewolf Alpha in a three-piece suit and a racer at night. Matteo isn't just an architect—he's a Lycan Alpha hiding behind Italian charm and motorcycle leather. And somehow this completely human woman triggered something in both of them that should be impossible. Mate bonds don't lie. But neither do the species that have been enemies for centuries. A dark paranormal romance that will leave you breathless, aching, and absolutely dripping. This is not a gentle love story...this is brutal, beautiful, and will wreck you in the best possible way.

On the day of our engagement, my boyfriend, Henley Chatham, handed his assistant, Kiara Dalby, an unlimited black card—then set me up with a shared wallet. Daily limit: twenty bucks. I laughed. Cold. Said no. He called me materialistic—then spun around and made some grand confession to Kiara. So I ended it. Right there. Then I signed with a classified agency. Five years later, Kiara and I crossed paths at a car wash. I was in line when she whipped her car in and cut me off. I couldn't dodge. Metal slammed—my whole front end wrecked. She rolled her window down. "Hey, you in the back—blind or what? Can't you see my car?" I let out a short laugh. "You cut me off. Then you crash into me. And somehow that's my fault?" Kiara sneered, same attitude, just louder. "I cut in line? Please. Every inch of Hawthorne Bay belongs to the Chatham family. Ever heard of Chatham Corp? My boss could shake this whole town with one move." I actually laughed this time. Pulled out my phone. Dialed. "Ex-boyfriend, I hear Hawthorne Bay answers to you now?"

On the eve of the National Robotics Championship, I smashed my carefully designed bot to pieces and announced my withdrawal. Everyone said I was a fraud who was quitting out of fear of being exposed. Online, the netizens mocked me relentlessly. Only one person, Adrian Cross, the so-called genius of the century, spoke up in my defense, his voice dripping with false sincerity, "I believe in River Lowell’s skills. Only he deserves to be my opponent. No matter what setbacks he’s facing, I hope he comes back to the arena and proves himself." In my previous life, the robot I built was identical to his. No matter how I tried to prove he had copied me, Adrian stood before the cameras, wearing his benevolent mask, and said, "It’s fine. This robot can go to River. I can always build something even better." His fans swarmed me, tearing me apart online, and no one believed in my talent. I swallowed the humiliation and vowed to rebuild my robot from scratch. However, when I was assembling it, the Power Core in my kit exploded, shattering my skull. That same night, I was rushed into the ICU. Netizens clapped and cheered, saying I got exactly what I deserved. That night, my girlfriend, Lila Hart, signed the hospital’s DNR consent form without hesitation. Until the day I died, I never understood how Adrian had gotten my robot’s data or why Lila had joined forces with him. When I opened my eyes again, I was back on the very day of the competition.

The Ashford family opposed my relationship with Everett Ashford. To separate us, they drugged him, and his fiancée ended up pregnant with twins. Everett threatened suicide if I left him. He begged me to stay, swearing he would never see them again. He even told me the pregnancy had been terminated. Three years later, I spotted him at a parent-teacher conference. Enraged, I kept the twins after school and, on their way home, they were kidnapped. Everett blamed me for everything. To force me to reveal where the twins were, he strapped my mother onto a high tower ride. However, my mother had a heart condition. I sobbed that I did not know anything. Everett screamed at me. "I've been good enough to you! Why the hell would you go after those kids? Tell me where they are right now or I swear I'll push your mother off this thing!" He shoved her toward the platform's edge. The safety harness hung loose on her frail body. I had no idea where the twins were. Everett shoved my mother off anyway. Just then, someone found the twins. Everett walked away without looking back, leaving my mother dying of a heart attack. While he rushed to pick up his children, I stood in a hospital room pulling a white sheet over my mother's face. That was the moment I finally stopped loving him.

On the day I'm supposed to get promoted as the deputy director, I pick up a 40-pound barbell before breaking my right arm with it. Because of the injury, I missed the only title-evaluating surgery available in five years. Everyone feels sorry for me, seeing as I've practically ruined my own future with my own hands. But I, on the other hand, am so excited about it that I've downed two bottles of vintage wine in one go. Because in my past life, I spent ten hours in surgery and pulled the patient back from the brink of death. But my wife, Megan Reese, immediately accused me of abusing my power as a doctor just to resolve a personal vendetta by killing her first love, Pierre Hopkins, on purpose. She bribed the nurses who were in the same surgery as me. They were adamant that I used the wrong medication purposefully, which led to the patient dying from a rupture. Not only was my career destroyed, but I also became a public enemy, hated by everyone. My mom tried to seek justice on my behalf, only to get cyberbullied by the Internet users, who knew nothing about the truth, to the point that she broke down. In the end, she accidentally fell into the river and drowned. When I received the tragic news, I chose to end my life by jumping off the hospital's rooftop. After I died, Megan spent my assets however she wanted. She also lived happily ever after with Pierre, who apparently "came back to life". When I open my eyes again, I've returned to the day I'm supposed to perform a surgery on Pierre.

Emily, age 24, feels like she's treading water, unable to find work and uncertain about her future. She's on the verge of giving up, plagued by worry and a string of dead-end jobs when fate steps in and introduces her to Nathan, a gorgeous young billionaire and a single parent. Nathan requires a personal tutor and nanny for his 5-year-old, intelligent, and beautiful daughter, Lilliana, who is having difficulty adjusting to life following her mother's death. When he gives Emily the job, it feels like a lifeline. As Emily encourages Lilliana with her studies and emotional issues, she discovers a passion for teaching that restores her sense of purpose. Meanwhile, Nathan, who has been entirely focused on his work and daughter, begins to lower his guard. He admires Emily's generosity and drive for the sake of his daughter, but he's also afraid of exposing his heart again. Is their encounter fate or a curse?

My son is dead. He dies in a cramped toilet cubicle after having his skull smashed in. My husband, the school principal, arrives on the scene. The first thing he does is carry his true love's son, the one who killed my son, into an ambulance. They hurriedly leave. Before his death, my son tells me, "Don't cry, Mom. I'm not sad that Dad doesn't believe me. It's enough that you do…" I call Joshua Tucker during my son's funeral. He roars angrily, "Kenny had to get two stitches on his arm because of your son! If you keep pestering me like this, I'll beat him up when I get home!" My son? I look at the gaping hole in my son's head, the one that won't ever bleed anymore. I shut my eyes. Yes, he's my son. My son is dead, Joshua. From now on, there's nothing between us.

By six, Amelia had whipped up a six-dish dinner with soup—Chad Felton's favorites, of course. By seven, she'd prepped his bath, complete with rose petals and candles. By eight, his slippers were perfectly lined up by the door. At nine, Chad finally strolled in. Amelia stepped up, taking his suit jacket. "Eat first or bathe?" she asked, setting the slippers in front of him and hanging the jacket. "Bathe," he muttered, eyes glued to his phone.