Uncle Nick Full House Novels & Stories

18+ Skin. Sweat. Surrender. No apologies. Just the filthy, holy truth of what we do when the lights are off. In the hush between heartbeats, desire speaks its own language. These stories peel back the skin of restraint to reveal the raw, trembling want beneath - hands that linger too long, mouths that confess what daylight forbids, bodies that remember every sin they were never supposed to commit. From velvet-shadowed hotel rooms to rain-slicked backseats, from whispered commands to wordlessly surrender, from collars that lock with a soft click to knees that bruise beautifully on marble, from words like "please" and "good girl" to the moments we steal when no one is watching... and the ones we can't stop replaying even when they are filthy. No slow burns. No fade to black. Just wet mouths, spreading thighs, fingers that don't ask permission, and orgasms that leaves teeth marks.

I was seventeen the first time I saw him. He never looked at me twice. I spent years trying to forget a man who didn't even know I existed. I built my own life, my own money, my own name. I didn't need anyone. Then one night, everything I built fell apart at once. So I walked into a bar, and I let a stranger take me home. No names. No morning. Clean and simple. Except nothing about him was ever going to be simple. Because I walked into work the next day, and there he was. Sitting in the CEO's chair like he owned the world. Looking at me like he already owned me. I told myself it meant nothing. I told myself I could walk away. I've always been good at lying to myself. But there's one thing I never saw coming. One truth that was hiding right in front of me the whole time. And when it finally comes out — I don't know if what we have survives it.

Seeing him lick my juice off his hands turned me on so bad I wished I was the one he ate with so much passion. “Tell me Princess, what next did I do?” His voice sounded way too calm for someone who just raised my heart rate. I looked at him—his blue eyes staring into my soul, my juice made his lips shine. “You ate me out,” I cooed. He looked at me with a dark smile. “I have been hungry, maybe it’s time to eat then.” He planted a kiss on her lips and I could taste myself—I loved how I tasted good. He broke the kiss then took the other free tit into his mouth and sucked like his life depended on it. His mouth found me, hot and eager, licking my pussy with a hungry groan that made me shake. His tongue moved slowly at first, tasting me, circling my clit until I was trembling. He sucked gently, then harder. ********** When love turns toxic, desperation takes over. Imogen's marriage to wealthy Perry was supposed to be a fairytale, but behind the glamour, she's suffocating. Caught in a web of lies and infidelity, Imogen's last hope is a romantic trip to Rome. But when she catches Perry cheating, her world crashes down. Enter Silas Moretti - mysterious, charming, and passionate. As Imogen's secret affair with Silas ignites, she finds herself trapped between two worlds: one of luxury and lies, the other of forbidden desire and danger. When murder entwines their lives, Perry becomes the prime suspect. Imogen's dark secrets surface, and Silas promises to help. But as their romance intensifies, Imogen realizes she may have traded one cage for another. Will she escape the deadly trap of her own making, or will her quest for revenge consume her?

My mom decides to implement an income-based rationing system. Everything at home is delegated to everyone based on their income. At a holiday dinner, I decide to grab myself an extra helping of pasta. As soon as I fill up my plate, my mom snatches it from my hands. "Hold on. Just look at the spread on the table. The sea bass is already worth 180 dollars. The scallops are worth 200, whereas the lobster goes for 300 dollars. "You only earn 3,000 dollars per month. If you want a second serving, you must pay up first. I'll charge you based on the family rate. It'll be three dollars, thank you very much." My mom sticks out three fingers while smiling at me.

The Don of the Vito family, Damiano Vito, has broken his wedding vows by cheating on me with the daughter of the rival mafia family, Bianca Sorace, while I'm still pregnant with his heir. He ends up executing Bianca with his own hands in order to reassure me as well as provide my family, the Cappas, with a satisfactory answer. My parents advise me, "Now that Damiano has returned to your side, you mustn't kick up a fuss for the sake of both families' interests." But since then, I've developed an obsession over cleanliness. Any form of physical contact is capable of making me dry-heave out of discomfort. Since I can't take any medication at all, I can only spend my days venting my stress by demanding that everything be disinfected before touching me. Damiano, who's known for having a violent temperament, is willing to keep disinfecting himself repeatedly for my sake. If he needs to make physical contact with me, he'll wear gloves. Whenever he enters my room, he has to change into a biohazard suit. No matter how hot and stuffy it gets under the suit, he doesn't utter a word of complaint. "It's fine. I was the one who broke the wedding vows first, anyway." Finally, the moment I command Damiano to wash his hands yet again, he loses control of himself before me. He even goes so far as to shatter the ashtray right before my eyes. "That's enough! All I did was make the mistake every man is capable of making! Must you humiliate me to this degree? How does that make me a filthy man?" Damiano deliberately allows his subordinates, who are drenched in blood, to throw a party in the estate, thinking that it serves as a punishment for my obsession over cleanliness. He intends to force me to yield to him by threatening the baby in my belly. Thanks to the nonstop aggravation, I feel intense pain flaring from my abdomen. Soon, blood keeps oozing down my inner thighs beneath my skirt. But at the same time, I feel a sense of relief that I've never felt before. "Let's get a divorce, Damiano."

"You want me to be your fake bride?" I repeated, disbelief lacing my voice. Rhys, the eldest triplet, nodded solemnly. "It's the only way to show Lucian that you are not to be underestimated, Morrigan. And the only way you can be able to avenge your best friend." "And what do you get out of this?" I asked suspiciously. Declan stepped forward with a wry smile. "Revenge too, on the Alpha who murdered our father just to become king. And perhaps, in time, a chance to win your heart for real." ****** Morrigan, princess of the demon realm, yearned for freedom from the weight of her royal responsibilities. This yearning leads her to escape to a werewolf pack where she disguises as a wolfless Omega, hoping to find solace away from the demands of her heritage. Instead, she faced cruelty and humiliation. This humiliation was however heightened by Lucian, the Alpha's son—her mate by fate, who publicly rejects her and confesses that he has only seen her as a pawn in a cruel bet. And he makes it worse by demanding she becomes his breeder after he rises to the throne as the Alpha, and murdering her best friend when she resists. Heartbroken and betrayed, she resolved to return to her realm, intent on seeking vengeance for the pain he had caused, especially after the death of her best friend. Before she could depart, Morrigan was approached by three men -Rhys, Declan, and Asher—with an audacious proposition: become their fake bride for a year, and they would help her exact revenge on Lucian. Intrigued by the promise of justice, she agrees, plunging into a contract-to-love relationship that would challenge her resolve and stir unexpected desires.

After a long time away from his parents' home, he must return to see his sick mother. The problem is that he is forced to marry a girl. The thing is he's not interested with girls, luckily he have a best friend who would marry him for a contract. His best friend who’s apparently living with him for a while now.

For ten years, my professor husband, Daniel Whitmore, and I loved each other deeply, treating each other with respect and care. Our only regret was that he had azoospermia, so we were never able to have a child. Then, on our tenth wedding anniversary, the housekeeper, Megan Wright, suddenly claimed she was pregnant with Daniel's child. I thought she was joking. Two days later, she threw a paternity test result in my face. The test proved that the child she was carrying was Daniel's. Megan sued us. On the day of the hearing, she cried in front of the courthouse, telling the media how Daniel had molested her. She said we were a pair of perverts who treated her like a breeding machine and kept her confined in our home. Daniel and I couldn't defend ourselves at all. The netizens labeled us demon employers and nailed us to a pillar of shame. Daniel lost his job at the university, and his students were ashamed of him. I was fired from my company that same day. In the end, Daniel couldn't withstand the pressure of public opinion and committed suicide in prison. I became a rat on the streets, hunted down and beaten by netizens. Driven insane, I wandered into traffic and died miserably in the middle of the road. Even at death, I couldn't understand how Megan had become pregnant with the child of my husband, who had azoospermia. When I opened my eyes again, I had been reborn to the day before Megan claimed she was pregnant with Daniel's child.

For over thirty years, my wife Janet faked being broke—for her flimsy ex. When our son Asher landed in the hospital, I begged and borrowed from everyone I knew. Still came up fifty bucks short. Janet? Said she was tapped out. So my mom sold off her own meds to cover the bill—never told me. She died without treatment. I handled my mom's funeral alone. When I went to pick up Asher from the hospital, I found a stash of Janet's old shopping receipts. Custom suits. Million-dollar watches. A damn private jet. I grabbed them and stormed off to confront her. Asher cut me off. "Dad, Mr. Sackett's sick. Mom's just helping him out. Why are you freaking out?" I stared at the kid who only lived because my mom died. It felt like something cracked inside me. Janet barely looked up. "Connor's educated. He deserves the finer things. Unlike you—crying over fifty bucks like some househusband. See? I didn't give you the money, and Asher's fine." Fine. If that's how they see it, I'm done with this family.

On New Year’s Eve, my fiancee, Delilah Carrington, left me to freeze to death in subzero snow. As my body went numb, she was wrapped in the military coat I had found for her, curled up in Everett Kingsley’s arms while eating the holiday groceries I had paid for. When I opened my eyes again, I was back before everything fell apart. So when she called—cold, demanding, rattling off a shopping list like I owed her—I hung up, blocked her number, and made my move. I sealed off Blackridge Logistics Hub, the largest logistics hub in the country. Stockpiling supplies? Pointless. Because my coworkers and I had more packages than we could ever open: seafood delicacies, premium cigars, top-shelf liquor, and industrial generators. Hundreds of millions of shipments meant for the holidays were now all mine. Inside a warehouse kept at a steady 26°C, I ate wagyu steak and watched the world collapse through surveillance feeds. I witnessed Delilah’s entire family tear each other apart over half a moldy pack of crackers. I thought I could live like this forever. I was wrong. In the apocalypse, the most dangerous thing isn’t what’s waiting outside. It’s the people who refuse to stop playing the hero.