maxinelicious

Mira-belle Silang is an er*tic writer. With regard to writing erotic literature, who would have thought that he has no experience with s **? In her 28 years of existence, she has never been touched, kissed, or been in a relationship. Since she was reared in an orphanage by a nun. How can a woman with no experience in s*x create literature -the ultimate man is obsessed with her work? Meet Amir Kantz, a man with a golden spoon in his mouth who hired a private detective to find out who wrote the er*tic book he's reading so he could get an autograph. after the detective found out the author of the book he immediately give this information to his boss and tell even the personal life of the Author. Amir Kantz was surprised after for what detective was said .He didn't even believe that the author of this er*tic book has an imagination like the contents of the story. Until he think the impossible thing in his mind ,this is how he can get Mira-belle Silang and own it.

The surroundings are noisy as I make my way home, umbrella in hand, I hurry to shore up the potholed road as the children run. The rain is getting stronger but the people here don't care about the approaching typhoon. They continue to rush down the road. Most of the ones I see are gambling on one side, on the other side drinking while singing. In other words, it's like a fiesta here where I live. I closed the umbrella before going home. But what appeared to me again was the mother holding a card. They gamble here inside the house with gossips like him, I put the umbrella behind the door. I haven't even gotten far from my mother calling my name. "Natasha!" I looked at my mother who was in the living room, I heard the heavy rain while waiting for what she had to say. "Yes?" "Come here!" I sighed and approached the mother, when I was at her side she easily extended her palm. "Give me money!" "Yes?" ”Are you deaf now, Natasha? Aren't you now getting paid at the bakery!” "Yes mother, but I will sell this medicine to father.." "I'll buy it, mine!" I didn't want to hand the money to my mother, she was dealt a card and I knew that my hard work could only be lost in two weeks. "Don't worry, I'll buy it from outside.." he gave me a bad look, at this time I knew there was nothing I could do. ”Are you bossing me around this house, Natasha!” "N-not like that, mother.." "Then give him your money!" I felt bad when I snatched more than three thousand from my old bag. I cried when I handed it to mom as I felt hunger in my stomach. "Is this all?" "O-opo.." my voice screamed. "Oh, he is! There are vegetables in the kitchen, cook them and feed them to your father first!" My body is heavy when I turn my back on my mother, in this house I am the first born. It's not just the firstborn, the cook, the laundress and the cleanliness of the surroundings. At the age of seventeen, the word social did not resonate with me. I scratch not for myself, but also for my family that I don't know if they consider me family. "Sister!" the youngest girl came up to me, smiling. ”Did you buy me slippers?” I nodded at this, smiling slightly. ”Yes, it is on the side of the door. Just take it..” "Yes!" he happily ran out, I headed to the table where the wrapped mixed vegetables were. After a while, my youngest brother screamed again, he entered the kitchen. "Sister, this is not what I want!" twelve year old chloe grumbled. I was only able to buy a simple slipper because I only fit it in my closet earlier, I couldn't buy the expensive sandals he wanted for his studies. "Next time sister will buy what you want, hm?" "I do not want!" he threw a pair of slippers on the floor. "That's yours, your promise is useless!" he turned and stared at me, my throat was closing as he slowly looked at the slippers that had been bought. If they are they can afford to waste money on such things, but I am. I almost looked for and chased the money just to give and make them happy. But I didn't hear even the slightest thanks. I let out a heavy breath, picked up the slipper and set it aside. Before I could start, mother entered the kitchen. "What a shame you are acting, Natasha!" from the tone of his voice I knew he lost the gamble, I prayed that he didn't regret the money I gave him earlier. "You only gave me three thousand, isn't your salary around four thousand!" "I'm budgeting because that's the money I have left over.." "Ah then, you have a budget while we are here without money?!" "I have already given you the salary, father's medicine is only one thousand.." "How about a thousand, I'll buy a month's worth of his medicine. How can I pay for the electricity if you don't give it enough!” ”I broke it last week, didn't I? The electricity has been paid..” He slammed the table in front of me. ”I bought a lot with that money, I haven't paid yet!” I closed my eyes because of the problems he throws at me, I'm not the first born, I should take everything. He won't even help me with the expenses, he'd rather lose it in gambling. "Your money is mine!" "Mother.." ”You will not give it!” tightly holding my arm, his long nails digging into it as he glared at me. "They feed you there at work, don't they!" "P-per in--" "Said mine!" He forced me to grope, but because I moved away I didn't accidentally push the mother. "Ouch!" he sat down on the floor, grimacing as he held his hips. He looked up at me, his gaze evil. ”Are you fighting me now?!” he stood up. "N-no mom, I-I didn't mean it.." "You're useless!" he pulled my hair, I almost cried as he dragged me out of the house. That's when the father came out, struggling to move the wheel of his wheelchair while calling the mother's name. "Helda!" I heard my father's voice from outside, but my mother was angry with me and pushed me down outside our shack. "Get out of here, don't come back until you have money!" Tears flowed from my eyes, before I could stand up, mother marched into the

Aurora woke up to the sterile chill of her king-sized bed in Sterling Thorne's penthouse. Today was the day her husband would finally throw her out like garbage. Sterling walked in, tossed divorce papers at her, and demanded her signature, eager to announce his "eligible bachelor" status to the world. In her past life, the sight of those papers had broken her, leaving her begging for a second chance. Sterling's sneering voice, calling her a "trailer park girl" undeserving of his name, had once cut deeper than any blade. He had always used her humble beginnings to keep her small, to make her grateful for the crumbs of his attention. She had lived a gilded cage, believing she was nothing without him, until her life flatlined in a hospital bed, watching him give a press conference about his "grief." But this time, she felt no sting, no tears. Only a cold, clear understanding of the mediocre man who stood on a pedestal she had painstakingly built with her own genius. Aurora signed the papers, her name a declaration of independence. She grabbed her old, phoenix-stickered laptop, ready to walk out. Sterling Thorne was about to find out exactly how expensive "free" could be.

The sterile white of the operating room blurred, then sharpened, as Skye Sterling felt the cold clawing its way up her body. The heart monitor flatlined, a steady, high-pitched whine announcing her end. Her uterus had been removed, a desperate attempt to stop the bleeding, but the blood wouldn't clot. It just kept flowing, warm and sticky, pooling beneath her. Through heavy eyes, she saw a trembling nurse holding a phone on speaker. "Mr. Kensington," the nurse's voice cracked, "your wife... she's critical." A pause, then a sweet, poisonous giggle. Seraphina Miller. "Liam is in the shower," Seraphina's voice purred. "Stop calling, Skye. It's pathetic. Faking a medical emergency on our anniversary? Even for you, that's low." Then, Liam's bored voice: "If she dies, call the funeral home. I have a meeting in the morning." Click. The line went dead. A second later, so did Skye. The darkness that followed was absolute, suffocating, a black ocean crushing her lungs. She screamed into the void, a silent, agonizing wail of regret for loving a man who saw her as a nuisance, for dying without ever truly living. Until she died, she didn't understand. Why was her life so tragically wasted? Why did her husband, the man she loved, abandon her so cruelly? The injustice of it all burned hotter than the fever in her body. Then, the air rushed back in. Skye gasped, her body convulsing violently on the mattress. Her eyes flew open, wide and terrified, staring blindly into the darkness. Her trembling hand reached for her phone. May 12th. Five years ago. She was back.

Vesper's marriage to Julian Sterling was a gilded cage. One morning, she woke naked beside Damon Sterling, Julian's terrifying brother, then found a text: Julian's mistress was pregnant. Her world shattered, but the real nightmare had just begun. Julian's abuse escalated, gaslighting Vesper, funding his secret life. Damon, a germaphobic billionaire, became her unsettling anchor amidst his chaos. As "Iris," Vesper exposed Julian's mistress, Serena Sharp, sparking brutal war: poisoned drinks, a broken leg, and the horrifying truth-Julian murdered her parents, trapping Vesper in marriage. The man she married was a killer. Broken and betrayed, Vesper was caught between monstrous brothers, burning with injustice. Refusing victimhood, Vesper reclaimed her identity. Fueled by vengeance, she allied with Damon, who vowed to burn his empire for her. Julian faced justice, but matriarch Eleanor's counterattack forced Vesper's choice as a hitman aimed for her.

Trigger/Content Warning: This story contains mature themes and explicit content intended for adult audiences(18+). Reader discretion is advised. It includes elements such as BDSM dynamics, explicit sexual content, toxic family relationships, occasional violence and strong language. This is not a fluffy romance. It is intense, raw and messy, and explores the darker side of desire. ***** "Take off your dress, Meadow." "Why?" "Because your ex is watching," he said, leaning back into his seat. "And I want him to see what he lost." ••••*••••*••••* Meadow Russell was supposed to get married to the love of her life in Vegas. Instead, she walked in on her twin sister riding her fiance. One drink at the bar turned to ten. One drunken mistake turned into reality. And one stranger's offer turned into a contract that she signed with shaking hands and a diamond ring. Alaric Ashford is the devil in a tailored Tom Ford suit. Billionaire CEO, brutal, possessive. A man born into an empire of blood and steel. He also suffers from a neurological condition-he can't feel. Not objects, not pain, not even human touch. Until Meadow touches him, and he feels everything. And now he owns her. On paper and in his bed. She wants him to ruin her. Take what no one else could have. He wants control, obedience... revenge. But what starts as a transaction slowly turns into something Meadow never saw coming. Obsession, secrets that were never meant to surface, and a pain from the past that threatens to break everything. Alaric doesn't share what's his. Not his company. Not his wife. And definitely not his vengeance.

The roasted lamb was cold, a reflection of her marriage. On their third anniversary, Evelyn Vance waited alone in her Manhattan penthouse. Then her phone buzzed: Alexander, her husband, had been spotted leaving the hospital, holding his childhood sweetheart Scarlett Sharp's hand. Alexander arrived hours later, dismissing Evelyn's quiet complaint with a cold reminder: she was Mrs. Vance, not a victim. Her mother's demands reinforced this role, making Evelyn, a brilliant mind, feel like a ghost. A dangerous indifference replaced betrayal. The debt was paid; now, it was her turn. She drafted a divorce settlement, waiving everything. As Alexander's tender voice drifted from his study, speaking to Scarlett, Evelyn placed her wedding ring on his pillow, moved to the guest suite, and locked the door. The dull wife was gone; the Oracle was back.

My husband Julian celebrated our five-year anniversary by sleeping with his mistress. He thought I was a clueless trophy wife, too dim to notice the vanilla and tuberose scent on his expensive suits. He was wrong. For years, I played Mrs. Vance, hiding my brilliance while Julian claimed my patents. An anonymous email confirmed his ultimate betrayal: photos of him and Scarlett Kensington in ecstasy. My heart didn't break; it solidified into ice at five years wasted. I activated "The Protocol" for a new identity and escape countdown. Playing the doting wife, I plotted his downfall, catching him with his mistress selling my work, and publicly snapping his credit card. His betrayals and stolen work ignited a cold, calculated fury. He had no idea the monster he'd created. I was dismantling his empire. I shredded his patent papers, stripping him of his ill-gotten gains. With a final tap, I initiated "Identity Erasure." Mrs. Vance was dead. Dr. Evelyn Thorne had just begun her counterattack.

Yelena discovered that she wasn't her parents' biological child. After seeing through their ploy to trade her as a pawn in a business deal, she was sent away to her barren birthplace. There, she stumbled upon her true origins-a lineage of historic opulence. Her real family showered her with love and adoration. In the face of her so-called sister's envy, Yelena conquered every adversity and took her revenge, all while showcasing her talents. She soon caught the attention of the city's most eligible bachelor. He cornered Yelena and pinned her against the wall. "It's time to reveal your true identity, darling."

The acrid smell of smoke still clung to Evelyn in the ambulance, her lungs raw from the penthouse fire. She was alive, but the world around her felt utterly destroyed, a feeling deepened by the small TV flickering to life. On it, her husband, Julian Vance, thousands of miles away, publicly comforted his mistress, Serena Holloway, shielding her from paparazzi after *her* "panic attack." Julian's phone went straight to voicemail. Alone in the hospital with second-degree burns, Evelyn watched news replays, her heart rate spiking. He protected Serena from camera flashes while Evelyn burned. When he finally called, he demanded she handle insurance, dismissing the fire; Serena's voice faintly heard. The shallow family ties and pretense of marriage evaporated. A searing injustice and cold anger replaced pain; Evelyn knew Julian had chosen to let her burn. "Evelyn Vance died in that fire," she declared, ripping out her IV. Armed with a secret fortune as "The Architect," Hollywood's top ghostwriter, she walked out. She would divorce Julian, reclaim her name, and finally step into the spotlight as an actress.

Betrayed by her fiancé and stepsister a day before her wedding shattered all Lina's dreams about love. She was heartbroken and in pain. Being drugged and unknowingly loosing her virginity to a stranger is not as painful as being betrayed by her loved ones. She promised to make her pretentious step sister and her unfaithful fiancé pay back hundredfold for what they did to her. On her journey to seek revenge, the stranger she had a one night stand with, came knocking at her door with a marriage contract in hand. Without her knowing he was the one she has that blissful one night stand with, she agreed on the marriage contract for some reasons. Will she find out he was the one she had that blissful one night stand with? Will she fall in love with him after being betrayed? Will she be able to get her revenge on those that betrayed her? Find out in this amazing book "Contracted After Being Betrayed"

Vivian clutched her Hermès bag, her doctor's words echoing: "Extremely high-risk pregnancy." She hoped the baby would save her cold marriage, but Julian wasn't in London as his schedule claimed. Instead, a paparazzi photo revealed his early return-with a blonde woman, not his wife, at the private airport exit. The next morning, Julian served divorce papers, callously ending their "duty" marriage for his ex, Serena. A horrifying contract clause gave him the right to terminate her pregnancy or seize their child. Humiliated, demoted, and forced to fake an ulcer, Vivian watched him parade his affair, openly discarding her while celebrating Serena. This was a calculated erasure, not heartbreak. He cared only for his image, confirming he would "handle" the baby himself. A primal rage ignited her. "Just us," she whispered to her stomach, vowing to sign the divorce on her terms, keep her secret safe, and walk away from Sterling Corp for good, ready to protect her child alone.