Victorious Cell Block

I check on family businesses in the countryside with my girlfriend, Mildred McClure, in tow. At noon, we stop by my uncle, Barron Cortez's, place for a simple lunch. Just as we are getting ready to leave, his new wife, whom he married just six months ago, Hilda Ross, rushes out and demands that we settle the bill. "Elden, you two just had the Supreme Farmhouse Set Meal, which is 1,888.80 dollars, and your girlfriend picked three organic, pesticide-free tomatoes in the garden. That's 199.80 dollars. "With an 80% service charge, your total comes to 3,800 dollars." Mildred is stunned. "Elden, do we have to pay to eat at your uncle's place?" I start to feel embarrassed, and my expression darkens as I look at Hilda, my supposed aunt, who's barely any older than me. "I've grown up eating at my uncle's place and never paid a single penny. Besides, your prices are downright outrageous!" Hilda calmly whips out a price menu and righteously declares, "That's all ancient history. Now, we're running a farmhouse business where all prices are clearly marked, so everyone pays the same rate. "Barron said you're some big boss in the city. Surely you're not going to stiff us over a little bill, are you?" She steps in front of the gate to block the exit with her body and shoots me a contemptuous look. "Even family settles their accounts. If you don't pay up today, don't even dream about stepping through this door!" While Mildred panics, I laugh in disbelief before taking out my phone and dialing Barron's number. "Uncle Barron, Hilda wants to settle accounts between family, so don't you think it's time we settled our accounts too?"

This is the story of a dying girl. Gracie. And just like every dying person, she had wishes. Infact she had a bucket list of things she wanted to do before she finally dies. * She had cancer of the blood and bone marrow. Chronic lymphocytic Leukaemia. It develops from a type of white blood cell called B cells and it progresses slowly. Symptoms may not show until maybe years for some patients. Her CLL was aggressive and needed chemotherapy treatment early. But it was a little late for her when they discovered. So wth no early treatment, She had just 5 years to live. The hospital became her home. She was given a room there to live indefinitely. She could still recall her dad’s gloomy face while decorating her room. She eventually recovered a little, just like every other days, she found herself retiring to her former routine. Her chats with him. But when she told him she was sick and was gonna die, he kind of took it differently than she expected. He asked her why. And her reply was probably the last message on their chat till this day. If he blocked her or something, she just doesn't know. she could never find him again on social media. She cried for weeks. He was supposed to be her best friend. She was never gonna make peace with Cancer or resign to fate. No way. Eventually she stopped treatment 2 yrs later when she got her independence. No matter the treatment, she would never be able to live as long as she wants anyway. So why prolong the torture? But that was a difficult decision to make nonetheless because she stopping the treatment meant she'd have to die earlier than 5 years. But she’d rather make peace with that as long as she could do whatever she wanted before dying. ..................... It's all about love, drama, regret.

Feeling throats dry, restless, immense headache her head was hung low, she was completely dehydrated since someone kept her in this dark cozy cell, she didn't have anything for the last 30 hours. Suddenly she heard a heavy footstep, she heard her own screaming till now, she felt with and every passing time the sound of the footstep become closer, with so curiosity she lifted her head she also wants to know who was that fucker has the audacity to lock her here. She couldn't see clearly his face as slightly moonlight peeked through the ventilator giving her glimpse of his side profile, she can see his face curved in devilish smile witnessing her messy state. But it didn't break her strength, her willpower. "Who the fuck are you.. Show me your face you .." She yelled, heavily breathing. Angry tears escaped from her already exhausted eyes. "Whoww!! Feisty ha...I must say Scott is right you are such a wild cat...it will be so much fun to play with you..." *** Sera was a bright girl from her childhood, she was the daughter of one of the most famous lawyer of the city. She was rebel don't bow her head in front of enemy no matter what it takes. Her father was her life line, she will wipe the face off if anyone had tried to say one wrong words against her father. One night she got kidnapped by one of the enemy of her father and from that day her life got completely went upside down. What happen when a sadistic bast** heartless monster meet one of the most stubborn brave girl? What happen when attraction turns into vicious obsession? Hear break, bloods spill and tears with so much sinful actions … Stay tuned for the sinful journey…

His fingers slid into my hair, tugging just enough to tilt my head back and expose my throat to him. “We shouldn’t be doing this, Mr. Turner,” I breathed, my voice breaking on a gasp as he found a sensitive spot just beneath my ear and sucked lightly. His growl was low and primal, vibrating through my skin as he pressed his body against mine. I felt every hard line of him, his heat bleeding through my clothes. “Why not?” he murmured, his voice rough with restrained need. I swallowed hard. “You’re… you’re my ex-fiancé’s father.” He paused. For a moment, everything stilled… his breath against my throat, the air between us, even the rain outside seemed to hesitate. Then he lifted his head, and our eyes locked. His were a stormy blue, intense and unwavering. “No one has to know, Catherine,” he said quietly, his voice was like a dark promise wrapped in silk. Then he leaned in with his lips brushing the shell of my ear. “I can be your dirty secret.” A shiver ripped down my spine. His words settled deep in my gut, awakening something dangerous. I bit my lip. Every cell in my body screamed for me to walk away but I didn’t. Instead, I gripped the front of his shirt, pulled him down, and kissed him hard. Desperately. He rumbled low in his chest, kissing me back with equal hunger, his hands roaming my body like he already knew every curve. When he finally broke the kiss, I was breathless. Then he dropped to his knees between my legs, with his eyes darker now. “I’m going to show you the world,” he said. “If you’d let me.”

I was five months pregnant when my husband, James Fletcher, allowed his mistress to invade our lives—on the very night of our wedding anniversary. But she didn’t just come to flaunt her presence. She came to take my life. Pregnant and vulnerable, I confronted her, desperately clinging to my dignity. But the fight ended with me tumbling down the staircase, my swollen belly crashing against the cold, hard ground. Blood seeped across the floor, vivid and unrelenting. James only arrived after hearing about his precious mistress’ ordeal. He stood there, staring at the pool of blood, at my broken body. But instead of helping me, he rushed to her side. She had nothing but a few superficial scratches, yet he swept her off to the hospital like she was the one dying. By the time he returned, my child was gone. The doctors barely managed to save me. And what did James do? He struck me in front of everyone, his words sharper than the sting of his hand. "Lisa only wanted to bring you a Christmas gift, and you attacked her out of nowhere! You shameless witch!" “She didn’t force her way in! What nonsense! I gave her the house key ages ago. You just can’t stand that she’s prettier and kinder than you!" “You didn’t just hurt her. You killed my child! You vile, despicable woman. Why couldn’t it have been you instead?” Lisa stood beside him, pretending to comfort him while flashing me a smug, victorious smirk. James’s vicious tirade didn’t stop there. He dragged my name onto the internet, painting me as a monster.

Anathea Jacobson has had a crush on Gregory Sinclair for ten years. She thinks marrying him is a dream come true. Even if he's just a block of ice now, she'll surely be able to melt him over time. However, all she ever gets is his ice-cold treatment. He's gentle and tender to his true love, but he scorns and neglects her. He also mistreats and humiliates her… Anathea endures it all because they have a son. For his sake, she's willing to cling to her title of Mrs. Sinclair and cage herself in this loveless marriage for the rest of her life. This changes when she's abducted. Gregory spends the night with his true love, and even her beloved son abandons her—he wants to have Gregory's true love as his mother! That's when Anathea sees sense. Her husband will never love her, and her son will never appreciate her. If that's the case, she doesn't want them anymore. She wants to live for herself! … After the divorce, Anathea picks up floral art again. She sets up a company, makes big money, and wins various awards. She wants to give herself all the love she deserves so that she'll go back to being the lively, vivacious woman she once was. Gregory panics when he sees the men surrounding her and vying for her affections. He falls to his knees before her, his eyes rimmed with red as he pleads, "I love you, Nat. Please don't leave me." Anathea sneers. "Your love is too little, too late, Mr. Sinclair." Her son clings to her legs and wails. "Don't abandon me, Mom!" She pushes him away impassively. "Don't call me that. I'm not your mother."

A year ago, my life was simple. I was just Ariel Anthony…a regular college student, cheerleader with decent grades, daughter of a struggling baker, and recently appointed step-sister to a guy I barely knew. Nothing special. Then came the storm. Not just the thunderstorm that trapped me in Professor Grayson's apartment that night, but the storm that followed. The one that's still raging around me, that I created. They don't warn you about men like Luther Grayson in freshman orientation. They don't tell you how a single glance from the right person can make you question everything you thought you knew about yourself. About what you want. About what you'd risk to get it. They also don't warn you about guys like Ethan Cross, with his perfect smile hiding something dark. The kind of guy who's used to getting what he wants and doesn't understand the meaning of the word "no." And no one, absolutely no one…prepares you for what it feels like when the person who's supposed to be your brother looks at you with something else in his eyes. Mom once said I had a gift for making complicated situations worse. If she only knew. My phone buzzed beside me, and I glanced down to see Luther's name on the screen. My heart still jumps every time, even when I'm aware of what could happen if people learned about the two of us. I should ignore it. I should block his number, focus on my classes, help Mom with the bakery, and pretend none of this ever happened. But I'm already reaching for the phone. That's the thing about crossing lines… once you step over them, it's almost impossible to step back. And I've crossed so many lines now, I can't even see where I started.

Raquel Renaud has spent her entire life overshadowed by the brilliance of her younger sister, Camille—the epitome of beauty and perfection. Raquel has long accepted her role as the family's overlooked daughter, enduring subtle humiliations and a constant sense of inadequacy. When her parents arrange her marriage to Alvaro Bernardi, a strikingly handsome and wildly ambitious businessman, Raquel dares to hope that this union might finally grant her a life of purpose and love. To Alvaro, Raquel is just a tool to fulfill his family's obligations. He hates her—her looks, her existence, even her audacity to love him. Alvaro’s contempt turns to betrayal when Raquel discovers the cruelest truth: Alvaro is having an affair with Camille, her younger sister. The betrayal shatters Raquel to her core. With her heart in ruins, she walks away from the wreckage of her marriage, keeping one devastating secret: she’s pregnant with twins. Five years later, Raquel returns—not as the woman once overlooked and discarded, but as a force to be reckoned with. Her beauty, strength, and newfound grace now turn heads, leaving everyone who once dismissed her in awe. Beneath her dazzling transformation, Raquel hides the wounds of a past that refuses to heal. When fate thrusts her back into the path of Alvaro—a man now consumed by the weight of his past mistakes—and Camille, who has woven herself deeply into Alvaro’s life, old secrets begin to unravel, threatening to tear everything apart. In a world where love is laced with regret and revenge, Raquel must fight her fiercest battle yet: to protect herself, her children, and the fragile happiness she’s painstakingly built. Will the ghosts of her past rise to destroy her, or will she finally take control and emerge victorious in the story of her own life?

If the warning label could be written in red letters, it would. I'm not a soft erotic writer, so you shouldn't be a soft reader. This is a house of 50 Shades Darker Steamy Romance Compilation. ALL your taboos and kinks will be fulfilled in these 1k short stories. First five stories. 1 Marry Your Daddy & Be Your Stepmom: When the thoughts, words, and touch of your boyfriend's dad gives you real orgasms, sinning is just as sweet. 2 My Gangster Masters: Though married, you're sent to the BDSM club to hunt the notorious triplet criminals. The operation is over, but your body still aches to submit to them one more time. 3 The Church Boy Is Gay: He's more innocent than a nerd. Haven't impregnated any girl. So you make him your role model until you're trapped in a room with him and the lights go off. 4 Creampied in a crowded subway: What’s discomfort in a crowded subway when you can have a stranger’s big black cock slide beneath your dress and rub your pussy till you're wet and dripping? It gets spicier, he slips into your right cotton panties and creampies you. And when you wear jeans, his huge palm breaks your button, goes down below, rubbing your clit and finger-fucking you till you become his all your subway journey. Forever. 5 My Masked Psycho: You have a fetish for masked men, and you're just the kind of lady he preys on. Others: Beastly Alpha. Voyeurism. You're a slave to the hot cell's Don and his Capos in a prison break. Stuck and fucked. The Bulgar's cock is your new obsession. Naked stranger in the elevator. Flash your goodies. Your maid and plumber are your new toys. Sex interviews… ***** Add to library let's hit this rocky road.

“My warriors will slaughter you all. They will—” “Shhhh.” Alpha George placed his finger on my lips, “You know your people have lost, Kyra. Your army is nowhere close to mine; neither are your weapons. The best you can do from here is pray.” I lifted my chin, showing no fear. With the chains tugging my skin, I spat, eyes burning with flames, “If you're not scared, release me, let me fight with my people if I would not chop your head off.” “No, Kyra. You're my…” He paused, looking all soft and calm, until he replied, “Prisoner.” – Kyra Dew, Gamma of the Red Sky Pack, had gone to battles and come back victorious until she went to battle against their rivals, the Moonshine Pack. Captured, chained, and tortured for the truth, Kyra only promised to speak up when she saw the Alpha. Alpha George, strong and fearless, came into the dungeon to receive the shock of his life. His mate was the one whom he had ordered his guards to torture until she spat the truth. Angered and regretful, he made a mistake, a mistake that led to her escape, leading to the death of many. Kyra escaped back to her pack, happy to go back to her lover and soon-to-be Alpha, only to receive the shock of her life. What happens when Kyra finds out that her boyfriend isn't really her mate but has been deceived? What would Alpha George do when he finally finds the girl who caused him so much loss? “You don't know me,” Kyra said. Her chin was held in Alpha George’s grip. “I know enough to kill you.” Alpha George replied. Yet, his burning eyes were fixed on her lips. “Kill me?” Kyra tilted her head, “Or kiss me?” She whispered.