Short stories

When Love Turns to Ash

My world revolved around Jax Harding, my older brother's captivating rockstar friend. From sixteen, I adored him; at eighteen, I clung to his casual promise: "When you're 22, maybe I'll settle down." That offhand comment became my life's beacon, guiding every choice, meticulously planning my twenty-second birthday as our destiny. But on that pivotal day in a Lower East Side bar, clutching my gift, my dream exploded. I overheard Jax' s cold voice: "Can't believe Savvy's showing up. She' s still hung up on that stupid thing I said." Then the crushing plot: "We' re gonna tell Savvy I' m engaged to Chloe, maybe even hint she' s pregnant. That should scare her off." My gift, my future, slipped from my numb fingers. I fled into the cold New York rain, devastated by betrayal. Later, Jax introduced Chloe as his "fiancée" while his bandmates mocked my "adorable crush"-he did nothing. As an art installation fell, he saved Chloe, abandoning me to severe injury. In the hospital, he came for "damage control," then shockingly shoved me into a fountain, leaving me to bleed, calling me a "jealous psycho." How could the man I loved, who once saved me, become this cruel and publicly humiliate me? Why was my devotion seen as an annoyance to be brutally extinguished with lies and assault? Was I just a problem, my loyalty met with hatred? I would not be his victim. Injured and betrayed, I made an unshakeable vow: I was done. I blocked his number and everyone connected to him, severing ties. This was not an escape; this was my rebirth. Florence awaited, a new life on my terms, unburdened by broken promises.

The Day I Died and Lived Again

Ava Rodriguez clawed for breath, her chest a suffocating vise. Her six-year-old, Leo, watched, his face pale with terror. Anaphylactic shock. Rapidly worsening. She choked out her husband Mark's name, begging him to call 911. “Mommy can't breathe!" Leo cried into the phone. But Mark, busy "networking" with his mistress Chloe, dismissed it casually as a "panic attack." Minutes later, he called back: the ambulance he'd supposedly called for Ava was now diverted to Chloe, who had only "tripped" and twisted her ankle. Ava’s world fractured. Leo, a hero in his small heart, raced out for help, only to be hit by a car. A sickening thud. She watched, a ghost in her own tragedy, as paramedics covered his small, broken body. Her son was gone, because Mark chose Chloe. Devastation. Horror. Guilt. The image of Leo haunted her, a searing brand. How could a father, a husband, be so monstrously selfish? A bitter, consuming regret clawed at her soul. Chloe. Always Chloe. Then, Ava’s eyes snapped open. She was on her living room floor. Leo, alive and well, ran in. It was a terrifying, impossible second chance. That catastrophic future would not happen. She would reclaim her life, protect her son, and make them pay.

A Second Chance, A True Love's Kiss

The Montauk Highway rain slammed against our windshield, just like my stomach cramped with familiar, sharp pain. Marcus drove, his knuckles white, until his phone flashed 'Izzy.' My husband, always her loyal puppy, was gone in a flash. "Ellie, call an Uber. Izzy needs me," he' d declared, abandoning me sick and alone on that dark road. It was the ninth time Marcus chose his ex-girlfriend over me, his wife. The 'ninth goodbye' in a cruel bet Izzy orchestrated years ago: "Nine times, Ellie. Nine. Then you walk away." Each incident a deeper cut: my anniversary dinner, my emergency surgery, my grandmother' s memorial. I was just his convenient rebound, his 'consolation prize,' a pawn in their twisted game. Days later, after an elevator accident left me shattered and hospitalized, Marcus cradled Izzy, his terror only for her. I finally saw it with chilling clarity: he never truly loved me. My marriage was a meticulously crafted lie, orchestrated by Izzy from college. My love for him, that foolish, stubborn hope, was finally drained, leaving only an aching void. But the game was over. I had already signed the divorce papers he carelessly overlooked, ready for my freedom. When Izzy later set a vicious trap to publicly shame me, accusing me of assault, a mysterious stranger stepped in, changing everything. This was the end of a nightmare, and the beginning of my true life.

Weeks Before My Wedding, My Fiancé Forgot Only Me

My wedding to Ethan Reed was just weeks away. After seven years, I was certain of our perfect future. Then, Ethan claimed "selective amnesia" from a head injury, forgetting only me. I tried to make him remember, until I overheard his video call. "Total genius move," he boasted to friends. His amnesia was a fake "hall pass" to pursue influencer Chloe Vance before our wedding. Heartbroken, I feigned belief. I endured his open flirting with Chloe and their taunting selfies. He mocked my distress, prioritizing Chloe's fake emergency. After an accident he caused, he abandoned me, injured, choosing to send Chloe to the hospital first. He even tried to cut me off financially. How could my fiancé be this cruel, calculating monster? His betrayal poisoned every memory. I felt like a fool for trusting such boundless cruelty. His audacity left me reeling. But I wouldn’t be his victim. Instead of breaking, a cold plan formed. I would shed my identity, become Olivia Carter. I would disappear, leaving him, my past, and his engagement ring behind forever, claiming my freedom.

A Husband's Betrayal, A Wife's Rebirth

The two pink lines on the test stick perfectly embodied five years of quiet hopes and hushed prayers-a dream finally coming true. But that dream shattered when I overheard my husband David, in his study, confessing that she could "never find out," followed by his best friend Liam's horrified reply: "Five years. You' ve been living a double life for five years." Rebecca. The name of the struggling artist my family' s charity had sponsored, the woman David always dismissed with pity, was not only his wife but the mother of his son and heir, Thomas. Not only had my entire marriage been a lie, a performance for his "sweet, trusting" mistress, but I was also carrying the child of a man who secretly plotted: "She can never, ever get pregnant." He had been replacing my birth control pills with placebos for years, orchestrating my pain and feelings of failure, all to protect a life I never knew existed. The final insult came on my birthday, when the Astor sapphire necklace David had "promised" me appeared on Rebecca' s neck, a cruel trophy. And then, she introduced herself: "Thank you… brother-in-law." Something inside me snapped. He thought I was easy. He wanted me to disappear. Fine. I would disappear. I called an old contact, my voice steady, saying: "I need your help. I need to fake my death."

My Husband Fall In Love With That Sponsored Student

Friday nights used to be perfect. The smell of roasted chicken, Liam' s smile across the dining table-five years of DINK bliss, just us, no kids, no pets. Then, he dropped the bombshell: a sponsored student, Sarah, was pregnant. And it was his child. He swore it wasn' t an affair, a bizarre tale of stolen sperm and his powerful, bloodline-obsessed family. But the consequences were brutally real: Liam, who "didn't like kids," transformed, devoting himself to Sarah and their unborn child. He stripped our shared office to build a nursery, his tenderness reserved for her. My home became haunted by a happiness that was no longer mine. The final insult came during a fire. Trapped, I screamed his name, but Liam scooped up a cowering Sarah, whispering, "Our little family will be safe." He left me, choking on smoke, as a burning beam crashed down on my back. I survived, barely. But when I woke, he was asking for a temporary divorce. "It's just for the birth certificate," he said. "Then we'll remarry." Was I really supposed to wait for him while he built a life with another woman, using my name for their child? No. Not anymore. I pulled out my IV. I was leaving. For good.

Lost Love, Found Freedom, and Escape

For ten years, Alexander Sterling was my world. He found me, a quiet designer, and lifted me into a life of unimaginable privilege, showering me with a love so fierce, it felt like a fairytale. Then Clara Bell appeared, and that man vanished, replaced by a ruthless CEO who watched me bleed in the snow after I lost our baby, a child he didn' t even know about. He called me an embarrassment, demanded I apologize to her as I lay broken in a hospital bed, and then, as she and her mother threatened my dying brother, he stood by and did nothing. The love that was once my sun, moon, and stars died that day, leaving only ash. But in that silent, desolate room, a cold resolve hardened: A new Eleanor would rise from the ruins of the old, destined to break free from his gilded cage and reclaim her life.

An Empire of Ash, A Heart of Steel

To save his date from a spilled drink, he ripped my mother's priceless shawl from my shoulders and used it as a rag. In front of a thousand people, Kurt Salazar showed me my place. But the ultimate humiliation was yet to come. He had me design my own wedding gown-only to use it for his public proposal to another woman. The shock nearly killed me, landing me in the hospital with a literally broken heart. He thought I was just another mess to be cleaned up. He didn't know that from the shards of my heart, a new designer would be born. Now, his name is a curse, his fortune is ash, and he's obsessed with the woman whose soul he tried to steal. He's about to learn that some debts can only be paid in ruin!

Steamy Tales (e*)

WARNING ⛔️ MATURE CONTENTS 🔞🔞🔞 This book is a collection of short steamy stories and it is not advisable for young readers as it contains graphic adult scenes!! EXCERPT; “Oh f**k, Josie! Your pussy feels so f**king good. I love the way your little pussy feels. It's so tight and so wet. I would love to taste your sweet little pussy.” I said as I drove hard into her tight pussy. “F**k baby! Don't stop, don't stop! Tell me more, f**k me more, tell me more.” The little slut cried, begging for more. “Oh Josie, I'm going to get you on all fours and f**k you hard like a little bitch in heat. I gonna grab you and drive my big cock hard into your tight little cunt over and over, in and out, in and out. Do you like that Josie? Do you like my big cock in your cunt?” “Yes, f**k me hard!”

Three Years, A Shattered Reality With The Heir

Three years. Three years of marriage to Olivia Reed, the woman who redefined my world. On our anniversary, I went to sign the final papers for our joint asset trust, a mere formality. But the city clerk told me words that shattered my reality: "According to our records, you are not legally married to Olivia Reed." My laughter died in my throat when she added, "There is a record of a marriage for Ms. Olivia Reed... to Alex Thorne. It was filed two years ago." Alex Thorne. My protégé. The talented young architect I'd mentored, the man I trusted after our ceremony. The wedding certificate, the grand gestures, the vows-all lies. Every single one. I pieced it together: Olivia's sad eyes, her whispers of a "replacement" while I was overseas, her tears and apologies for being "paranoid" about Alex when I returned. Now, I heard her cooing to him on the phone, "To him, I'm his devoted wife. To the world, you' re my husband. It' s a perfect arrangement. I have his love and your legal status. I have everything." Everything. And I had nothing. I was a sham. A joke. The love I felt, a towering structure, crumbled to dust. There was no rage. Just a cold, empty void. Then, the sculpture crashed. Olivia chose him, shielding him, letting the heavy steel frame slam into me, crushing bones. Lying broken in the hospital, I watched her dote on him while ignoring me. I realized she had intended to erase me. This wasn't a mistake. This wasn't an accident. This was a brutal choice, a calculated punishment. Ethan Miller, the trusting fool, was dead. I decided then. I wasn' t confronting her. I was disappearing. And then, when she least expected it, I would take it all away.

Nextdoor Hotties

!!Mature Content 18+ Erotic short stories!!! "Let's play truth and dare shall we?" She challenged. Alan didn't need to ponder about it, since his life was going to end anyway. It's not such a bad idea to play games with his neighbor-enemy- a sexy b***h at that- With a decisive gaze, he met her eyes. "I take the dare." He uttered and Gia had a mischievous smirk as she rubbed her palms slowly, Explore a realm of steamy, dripping hot one-night sex between next-door neighbors who deemed themselves as enemies. On the sideline, they nurture the dirtiest, sexiest, and naughtiest fantasies about pleasuring their crushes. The lustful tension becomes palpable as these hotties ogle at their next-door neighbors through the window until they surrender to their repressed, dark, unapologetic, and tempting desires. Watch as the boundaries between sexual attraction and hate blur in exciting ways.

Too Late, My Ex: She Married a Mogul

I stood at my engagement party, champagne clinking, Liam's arm around me. Life was perfect. My best friend, Chloe, was there, laughing too loudly, but it was our day. Then Liam took the stage. My heart beat faster, ready for his sweet words. Instead, he announced a "sudden, undeniable change." He said he couldn't marry me. His eyes landed on Chloe. "She's the one." The room gasped. My face burned as everyone stared. My fiancé and best friend, my closest people, publicly humiliated me, smirking as I fled town, stripped of dignity. Years later, having rebuilt my life and married Julian Thorne, a tech mogul, I returned to Lynwood for a quiet work trip. And I saw them. Liam, successful, and Chloe, still his trophy. They sneered, mocking my humble appearance, calling me a failure. When I mentioned my husband, they laughed, accusing me of delusions. Liam then attacked me, snatching Julian' s locket, the symbol of my new life. He broke my hand, screaming I was a liar, a thief. Then his goons dragged me to a dark storage room, locking me in. My hand throbbed, my heart ached with crushing despair. They even found Isabella, the kind staffer who tried to help me, silencing her. Chloe appeared, gloating, telling me I would confess I was a lunatic at their wedding tomorrow, to finally destroy me. How could two people be so cruel, so utterly intent on my ruination? I was trapped, shattered, every hope of justice gone. But as they dragged me into the ballroom, preparing to force my twisted confession, an unexpected presence in the crowd began to rise. Julian.

The Billionaire Heiress's Revenge

The first sign was a text message glowing on Liam' s phone screen. "I miss you. When can I see you again?" it read, from a woman named Sarah. I was sitting on the edge of our bed, waiting for him, clutching the phone that held a history of his secret intimacy. When he walked out of the shower, naked save for the towel around his hips, I didn' t scream. I just held up the phone and said, "Her or me, Liam." He chose me, deleted her number, and swore it was a mistake. But the silence in our penthouse grew louder, his touch became a habit, and his eyes looked through me, not at me. I felt myself disappearing, desperate and pathetic, despite being the heiress to a real estate empire. So, I proposed to him, clutching at a phantom hope at a charity gala, only for his forced "Okay, Ava. Let' s get married" to ring hollow. The wedding preparations were a blur of my efforts, conspicuously absent of him. My friends and family saw the pity in my eyes, but I pushed on, convinced the vows would banish Sarah' s ghost. Then, on our painfully beautiful wedding day, as the officiant prepared to pronounce us, a small voice cut through the air. "Daddy?" A little girl, no more than five, stood at the aisle's entrance, huge tearful eyes fixed on Liam. His face went ashen. He dropped my hands as if burned, turned, and ran-away from me, our vows, everything-scooping the little girl into his arms. Sarah stood behind her, a triumphant, sorrowful look on her face. He abandoned me at the altar, humiliating me for the world to see. Deep down, a cold clarity told me this was always a possibility, and I was not unprepared. Taking the microphone, I announced, "The groom has a prior commitment. Enjoy the food. Consider it a celebration of my newfound freedom." I ordered security and called my lawyer. They had robbed me of my dignity, but I wouldn't let them rewrite my story. It was time to fight back.

The Unwanted Daughter

The familiar hum of the private jet landing used to lull me to sleep. But this time, it was a siren, screaming their return. My parents, my brother, and Maya – the girl who would not only destroy my life but also steal my family's very essence. They called me Ava Thompson, "brilliant but unwanted," a programmer in a socialite's world. When Maya arrived, adopted and seemingly perfect, I naively thought I' d found a sister. Instead, she took everything. She poisoned their minds with whispers, turning their love into cold disgust. They signed away our company secrets to her. Then, she framed me for corporate espionage, and in their twisted loyalty to her, they locked me in a mental institution. I died there, alone, my last breath frozen by a hatred so profound it burned away all pain. But then I woke. One year earlier. The day they returned. A second chance. Not for love, not for family. For revenge.

Goodbye, I'm Not Your Substitute Wife Anymore

For three years, I was Mrs. Sarah Davis-a title that meant nothing more than being a ghost in my own opulent home. My architect husband, Mark, kept our marriage a secret, a mere convenience while his heart belonged to another. The shattering truth unveiled itself in a hidden room: a shrine filled with portraits of Emily, his childhood sweetheart, his "one true love." I wasn't a wife; I was a placeholder, a warm bed until she returned. When Emily rejoined Mark's firm, his joy was palpable, his neglect of me complete. He spent endless nights by her side, leaving me invisible, my love unrequited, my existence dismissed. How could I have been so blind, so foolish, to waste three years on a man who could only offer polite indifference? The pain wasn't just his betrayal; it was my own self-inflicted wound, the slow erosion of my spirit. So, I devised a desperate plan-a carefully orchestrated deception designed to win my freedom. I would get his signature on a blank sheet of paper, and then the real work would begin. He wouldn't even know what hit him, consumed as he was by his public persona and his undying devotion to Emily. He would release me, even if he never truly saw me.

The Price of a Billion-Dollar Love

The private jet' s hum was supposed to drown out the silence, but it only amplified the heavy dread in the cabin. Across the table, my husband, Ethan Vance, watched me with cold, unblinking eyes, his once-loved face a mask of cruelty. "Sign it, Chloe." His low, calm voice cut through the air. The document lay between us, a single sheet of paper that would transfer my half of our billion-dollar company to him-and to her, Scarlett Hayes, his long-lost ex, the ghost haunting my marriage. My hands trembled, but it wasn't just the document. Through the open jet door, his bodyguards held my sixteen-year-old sister, Lily, her face pale with terror, thousands of feet in the air. "Scarlett needs this," he' d said when I begged, "You were just holding her place, Chloe. It's time to give it back." His words were a physical blow, shattering illusions of the life we'd built. My love, my security, my entire world-all just a temporary placeholder. Watching Lily' s silent tears stream down her face, I knew he was using my deepest love as a weapon. My signature was a shaky scrawl, a testament to my broken spirit. "There. It's done. Now let her go." A flicker of satisfaction crossed his face. Then, the guards tightened their grip, and with a brutal shove, pushed my sister out the open door. Her scream tore away with the wind, leaving only a horror too profound to process. He had promised to let her go, and he had murdered her instead. In the ensuing darkness, as my world fractured, a terrible clarity sliced through the pain: I was never the love of his life; I was just the bandage for a wound he never wanted to heal. But as the jet descended, a defiant spark ignited in the ashes of my heart. I would survive. I would escape. And he would pay.

The Truth About His Mistress

I was four months pregnant, a photographer excited for our future, attending a sophisticated baby brunch. Then I saw him, my husband Michael, with another woman, and a newborn introduced as "his son." My world shattered as a torrent of betrayal washed over me, magnified by Michael's dismissive claim I was "just being emotional." His mistress, Serena, taunted me, revealing Michael had discussed my pregnancy complications with her, then slapped me, causing a terrifying cramp. Michael sided with her, publicly shaming me, demanding I leave "their" party, as a society blog already paraded them as a "picture-perfect family." He fully expected me to return, to accept his double life, telling his friends I was "dramatic" but would "always come back." The audacity, the calculated cruelty of his deception, and Serena's chilling malice, fueled a cold, hard rage I barely recognized. How could I have been so blind, so trusting of the man who gaslighted me for months while building a second family? But on the plush carpet of that lawyer's office, as he turned his back on me, a new, unbreakable resolve solidified. They thought I was broken, disposable, easily manipulated – a "reasonable" wife who would accept a sham separation. They had no idea my calm acceptance was not surrender; it was strategy, a quiet promise to dismantle everything he held dear. I would not be handled; I would not understand; I would end this, and make sure their perfect family charade crumbled into dust.

Mistress's Second Life Revenge

I woke up in my New York penthouse bedroom, sunlight harsh in my eyes. The date on my phone read five years ago, before the fire, before I died. My breath hitched in my throat as I understood: I was reborn. My husband, Ethan, walked in, his voice flat, demanding I authorize a quarter-million dollar transfer from my trust fund. In my first life, that money went to Chloe Sanders, his intern, his mistress. Every painful memory came flooding back: his coldness, his brazen affairs, and finally, him locking me in a remote ski lodge wing as smoke filled the air. He drove away, leaving me to die in the flames. I whispered that I didn't feel well, but he only scoffed, telling me to sign the papers and stop being dramatic. Later, I saw him with Chloe, his tenderness and warm smile solely for her, confirming his betrayal was still ongoing. When I finally confronted him, his hand swung, cracking across my cheek, leaving me stunned and bleeding. He then slammed the door to our bedroom shut, locking me inside, threatening a private care facility, calling me "unhinged." The injustice burned, fueling a cold fury deeper than fear. Was this my cruel fate, to relive the same nightmare with the same monster? Why had I been given a second chance, only to face his baseless accusations and violence once more? This time, I wouldn't just endure his cruelty; I would break free. As I sent a coded message to my parents, my escape plan was in motion, and my fight for freedom had truly begun.

The Coma King's Secret Bride

My little brother, Leo, was dying, dependent on a miracle surgery our family couldn't afford. My only hope was my five-year relationship with Ethan Vanderbilt, the wealthy heir - a relationship I' d clung to despite his growing cruelty. Then, he called me to his penthouse, not for reconciliation, but to introduce Isabella Romano, his new, stunning fiancée. "You were always a bit... much, Mia," he sneered, discarding me for an "upgrade." Public humiliation followed, as society pages lauded their perfect match, branding me the desperate ex. My own father, desperate for Leo' s life, told me I should have "tried harder." Our last hope seemed to vanish. Just when I thought I was at rock bottom, Ethan' s ruthless uncle, Charles Vanderbilt, offered a bizarre lifeline: full funding for Leo' s surgery. The catch? I had to go to a remote Vermont clinic and act as a discreet observer for his "comatose" brother-in-law, Marcus Thorne. Spy on a dying man for the family who' d just ruined me? Why me? What dark secrets was I being forced into? It felt like a devil' s bargain, a humiliation worse than anything Ethan could inflict, and I couldn't ignore the chilling sense of injustice. But for Leo, I' d do anything. So I packed my bags, leaving everything behind for that bleak, uncertain future in Vermont. I expected silent days watching a still form, but the "comatose" Marcus Thorne wasn't so comatose after all. And the very first thing he said to me wasn't 'hello,' but, "As I recall, Mia Hayes, you were my first kiss."

No Second Chances: Their Lost Ava

"Always." That was the pact. Ava, Ethan, and Jax had their entire future mapped out: University of California, Westwood, together, a perfect, unbreakable trio. Then Chloe Evans arrived. Sweet, charming, and seemingly innocent, she systematically dismantled Ava's life-from subtly stealing credit for her work to "accidentally" wearing Ava' s prom dress and grandmother's heirloom necklace. Ethan and Jax, Ava's childhood best friends, not only stood by but actively defended Chloe, constantly dismissing Ava's pain and valid concerns. "Don't be so dramatic, Ava," became their infuriating mantra. The final betrayal came at a bonfire when Chloe feigned a "trip" and intentionally seared Ava's face with a burning marshmallow. Yet, still, Ethan and Jax rushed to Chloe's side, pleading, "It was an accident! Forgive her, for our sakes!" Ava's heart turned to ice. This wasn't merely a physical burn; it was the searing truth of their blindness, their utter betrayal. They chose Chloe, every single time. Their "always" was a bitter, self-serving lie. Lying in that hospital bed, the sting of the burn a stark reminder, Ava made her choice. She closed the UCW application, opened a new tab, and clicked "Submit" on Yale. This wasn't just a school; it was an escape. She was charting a new path, alone and finally free.