Why Does Kissing Feel Good Mga Nobela at Kwento

Having an Awakenist as my wife meant enduring her monkish attitude toward sex. We could only be intimate on the sixteenth of every month. Every detail—my position, rhythm, even my expression—had to follow her rigid rules. If I showed too much pleasure, she would immediately rise and leave. We had been married for five years. Was I ever tired of this? Yes. Still, I always gave in. I accepted these limitations because I loved her. "The Saintess loves me too," I told myself. That faith shattered the day I was sent to extinguish a hotel fire. Amid the flames, I found my wife pressed close to a man in disheveled clothes. Between their arms was a young boy.

What do you do when the mate you love gets another she-wolf pregnant after a drunken night? This is my new reality. In the face of this, he firmly said, "Keep the pup, and we can still go back to how things were." I could not believe my ears. Shaking my head, I asked him to choose. "Between me and the pup, who do you choose?" I said to him. All I got was silence. His blank face broke me. I could not believe he couldn’t answer. But his silence was enough of an answer for me. So I left, and he regretted it.

By the third year of my marriage to Daniel Hawthorne, the war had already taken more than it ever returned, and this time it took his younger brother, Thomas Hawthorne. My sister-in-law, Eleanor, collapsed, and in the weeks that followed she tried to follow her husband into death— once with sleeping pills, once by the river beyond the officers’ quarters— only to be dragged back both times, each time clinging to me afterward as though I were the last thing keeping her grounded. I stayed with her, wiped her tears, and whispered that Thomas would want her to live, until the day she received the test results confirming she was three months pregnant, and the grief of losing her husband was slowly softened by the arrival of new life. I smiled too, believing grief had finally loosened its grip. That night, holding my own pregnancy test in my hand and thinking it was finally time to tell Daniel, I passed the study and heard his friend say quietly, “She’s carrying your child. You convinced the doctors to adjust the timeline so everyone would believe the baby belonged to your brother. Aren’t you afraid Margaret will find out?” Daniel didn’t hesitate. “She won’t,” he said calmly. “She loves me. She wouldn’t leave. I won’t let her know.” I didn’t step inside. I didn’t confront him. Instead, I opened the letter I had received weeks earlier— an official deployment order from the international medical corps, assigning me to a frontline war zone— and tapped Accept.

On our wedding day, Carter Hall's father took his own life in our new home. He left a suicide note, blaming me for his death. From that day forward, Carter despised me to the core. He said, "Lindsey Thomson, you deserve to rot in hell, atoning for your sins for the rest of your life." Eventually, just as he wished, I wandered the streets, mute and half-insane, living a life worse than a stray dog. But then, he regretted it.

After my mother shot down my pleas to cover my medical bills the 100th time, I clutched my bone cancer diagnosis papers and trudged to the crematorium. "Hi, I'd like to reserve a cremation slot ahead of time," I muttered to the clerk. Half an hour ticked by before my parents and adopted brother arrived in their car. My dad, a forensic pathologist, cracked me across the face. "You're pulling a fake-death stunt now, just to steal the spotlight from your brother?" My mom, a hospital director, snatched the papers from my hands and shredded them into confetti. "Faking records using my credentials and tying up hospital resources? You've crossed the line!" My brother cried, tugging at their sleeves. "It's all my fault. I'll skip the amusement park forever. I don't need a thing. Just quit riling up Mom and Dad." I spun around, my hand pressed against my throbbing chest, and begged the crematorium staff. "Please, when it's time, cremate me and scatter the ashes in the river. I've got no family left in this world."

I died on my wedding night. Then I woke up—with revenge in my veins and my killer’s uncle in my bed. Betrayed by my husband and murdered by the man I once loved, I get a second chance—reborn one year before my death. This time, I’m done playing nice. I crash my own engagement by announcing an affair with the one man my ex fears: his powerful, brooding billionaire uncle. But what started as a game of revenge spirals into something dangerously real… and I’m carrying his child. Lies. Lust. Loyalty twisted beyond recognition. This time, I’m rewriting the rules—starting with my last name.

Warning: Mature Content Trigger Warning: Trauma, Abuse (Not by the male lead), Psychological Alessandra Maximillan, the Young Duchess of one of the four duchies and a major political figure as well as a role model for both men and women, has nearly everything she desires in life. She is only eighteen years old, but she rose to prominence as the heir to Duke Albert Maximillan of the Maximillan duchy due to her charisma and ability. But she has a little secret and a simple wish. Alexander Terrence is the Duke of the Terrence duchy. He is known as the Mad Duke because it is said that he murdered his own parents in order to become Duke. Then, what will happen when Duke Alexander proposes a contract marriage to Alessandra? The cover is not mine. I found it on Google.

Clause 7 : on no account should children be brought into this contract, the result of which would have dire consequences. Guess what Vivian Cross did? Vivian Cross was once at the top of the society's scale until unfortunate events took place and she lost all that she had except one. Desperate and in need of help, she lunges herself into an unexpected contractual loveless marriage with a man she once had the hots for but does true love really die? And when things go awry and she is forced to pick between a life of luxury and a forbidden baby, what does she do when she realizes that the man she thought was just distant actually doesn't want her and to prove it, brings his first love back into the picture knowing fully well that it would hurt her beyond reasoning. This game of cat and mouse, will it go on forever or will Nate Stuart finally realize that he had all that mattered in his home?

Don Ettore Vitale's lover, Viola Serra, and I are abducted at the same time. When it's time for Ettore to make his choice, he doesn't hesitate to choose Viola despite always doting on me all the time. "Larissa, Viola can't take this. She's too fragile. Once this is over, I'll definitely make it up to you." "If you choose her, I'll hate you forever!" He remains silent for a moment before whisking Viola away in his arms. I just keep laughing till tears spill down my cheeks. Some time later, I nestle into Ettore's arch-nemesis, Vittorio Romano's arms while smiling at the former. But he keeps begging me to return to him like an absolute lunatic.

On her twenty-first birthday, Tessa thought she would step into her future as Luna, until she walked in on her mate, Alpha heir Jasper, in the arms of her own half-sister. Humiliated and betrayed, she rejects him on the spot. But instead of falling apart, fate hands her something more dangerous, an unexpected bond with Alaric, the ruthless Alpha King and Jasper's greatest rival. Now, as Jasper regrets the mate he threw away, Tessa must choose: return to the man who betrayed her, or embrace the one man Jasper fears and never turn back.