Voice

By the second year of my marriage to Quentin Lambert, we had a son. Fast forward five years, and I was basically a human cookbook, agonizing over every pinch of salt like it was rocket science. One night, Quentin tossed out, "Too much salt." And our son? He didn't even blink—he dumped the whole pot down the drain right in front of me. That's when it hit me—pure exhaustion, like a tidal wave. I told Quentin I wanted a divorce. He didn't even bother looking up. "Is that really necessary?" I nodded, my voice flat. "It is."

“The most important clause in our marriage contract is that we are not to have children,” my husband stared at me closely, fire burning in his eyes. “This is supposed to be a five-year contract, five year and that’s it,” he continued, “I thought we agreed on that. No children to tie us down, then we part ways.” “I know that, and I completely agree!” Then he took every single condom out of the nightstand. He inspected them carefully, tossing each one aggressively on the bed as he did so. They were all the same. Full of tiny holes. “Then how do you explain that?” he snarled, his voice dripping with accusation.

She is a to die for beauty, twenty-seven years without a husband or boyfriend, her first love who she never got to make hers is the only man she has ever learned to love and was it. People have been calling her a spinster unknowingly o her. And the first day someone calls it to her face, it was him, the most wanted bachelor in the country. But no one knows him, he is a mysterious man known worldwide but no one knows his real identity. Her rock-hard heart skips when she hears his voice for the first time, “You are mine for tonight, spinster Kira” “Then you will be my boyfriend, I am no spinster.”

"Zayne-" I try to push him away when he grabs me by the waist and puts me on the counter. Letting out a gasp, I rest my hands on his shoulders as his warmth lingers on my body. His eyes are slightly red as if he was crying. And before I realize it, he leans forward and rests his head on my shoulder, breathing in my scent. "Myla," He calls, his voice intoxicating. I hate how he has the power to make my knees go weak whenever my name comes out from between his lips. "I never craved attention until I tasted yours."

He presses her hard to the wall, but make sure to secure the little girl head, his hands at his ex-wife waist tightened as his trembling lips opened, his voice quivered as he said something near her ears. "I wont be a bad guy anymore Xiara, dont leave me again, okay?" he repeated it over and over again like chanting a spell, but the pit at his stomach only continued to grow. His eyes flash a bit of crazy obsessiveness and paranoia as the hand that hold Xiara head a while ago gently stroke her head with great restraints. Tilting her head, Xiara blinked, "Who are you?"

He slammed into her, harder, deeper, each thrust stealing her breath. “You’re mine tonight,” he growled, voice rough with need. She trembled beneath him, gasping, “Please… don’t stop. I need you harder.” His hands gripped her waist, pulling her closer. One night fueled by hunger and surrender where every whispered command and aching plea pulled them deeper into a dangerous game of craving, control, and obsession… and every touch burned hotter than the last. ️ This story contains explicit, intense sexual scenes, raw passion, and dark romance. Strictly 18+. Read at your own risk.

The day before our wedding, I received an expensive suit from my wife. Not long after, her young lover called me, his voice trembling. "I'm sorry. It was my fault. My bad for mixing up your size. Please… please don't blame Sylvie." On the other end, I could hear Sylvie soothing him gently, patiently, until he calmed down. I stared at the plane ticket in my hand—a one-way trip out of the country—and calmly asked her for a divorce. Then, as if I no longer mattered, she left me with a single, cold sentence. "Just don't regret it."

Aiden Atkinson, a rejected Alpha werewolf, searches for a life of meaning; when he stumbles upon Kayla Lawson. He soon learns to love and trust someone new in his messed up life. Kayla Lawson, a broken young woman, has an identity crisis and discovers she is a mermaid. When the war between werewolves and mermaids is revealed to Kayla by Aiden, she must decide to tell him who she really is and risk their new relationship. As she begins to make amends with the death of her parents, Kayla finds herself drawn to the ocean by a mysterious voice calling her into the depths of the ocean. Perhaps these voices can help Kayla make sense of the world around her.

"They were entwined with each other, luxuriating in the throes of passion, the man's robust body..." I was hiding in my office, secretly penning the next development in my story, when a voice from behind me began to read my words aloud, one by one. It was the new intern, a young man. I trembled, pleading with him, "Please, don't tell anyone." He adjusted his gold-rimmed glasses, his hands bracing the edge of the desk, trapping me between his arms. "So, this is what you like?" His throat bobbed, and a smile played on his lips, "Then, why don't we... try it out, just the two of us...

Grace read the content of the tweet with trembling lips, and a hoarse voice almost choking, or did she know why she could be like that, there was clearly a feeling of horror that ran through her body as she read the tweet. The tweet is "Thank you to my friends who have cursed at me, hopefully we will meet again letter. The path i take is God's way." For a moment the were silent, no one dared to make a sound. Their lips seemed to be sewn up hard to open, they look each other, it wasn't the vengeful it used to be, but one filled with horror. As if something was telling them that a terrible event had happend, let's just say it was a hunch.