Jake stirs behind me. Keys hit the floor. A curse follows. Slurred. Angry. My sister. Jake sits up fast. "Fuck," he mutters. The hallway light flips on, spilling into the room like a spotlight. I freeze. Susan's stumbling around out there, muttering, her keys clattering again. Jake's already yanking on his clothes. Boxers. Shorts. Shirt twisted and inside out. He doesn't say a word. Just glances at me once, then steps out...

Jake stops. Turns. The fire in his eyes hits me like a punch. Hot and sharp, hungry enough to swallow me whole. I’m still naked on the floor, arms wrapped around my legs, knees pulled tight to my chest. Every inch of my skin hums, flushed and trembling. Not from cold. From him. He looks at me like nothing else exists. And it ruins me. Because he’s not mine. He’s Susan’s. My sister’s. I shouldn’t even be thinking about it....

Jake sits at the table in his loose black shorts and a white T-shirt. He stares at the pancakes, not looking up. Susan’s next to him, leaving me alone across from them with the last ready plate. “So, how was your day, Jake?” Susan asks, forking a pancake. “Fine,” Jake says, flat. “Yours?” Susan spreads strawberry jam on her pancake, her voice lifting as she talks about her shift at the hospital. She describes the chaos in...

New York in February was unkind. Cold slipped past scarves, soaked shoes in slush, and turned every gust of wind into a dare. But for Yuki Nakamura, that first breath of frigid air did not feel cruel. It felt earned. She stepped out of JFK with her scarf snug, suitcase rattling over cracked pavement, heart pounding with the quiet thrill of what she’d done. Twenty-seven. No boyfriend. No plans. No job tying her down. She h...

The apartment is dead quiet except for the fans barely humming. I need to do something. Anything to stop that moment replaying in my head over and over. Jake caught me. Hand in my shorts. Totally busted. That memory is burned into my brain like a cursed tattoo. Pretty sure I can't hide from him in this shoebox apartment forever. Unfortunately. They'll be home from work soon, and I need to get a grip by then. I need to do...

Chapter 1 I sat in the back of the helicopter, knees jammed against my bags, the helo rattling and bouncing as it cut through the rain-heavy African sky. Raindrops streaking across the round perspex window, smearing the view into nothing. The crew chief leaned in, grabbed my shoulder, and held up two fingers. “Two minutes and we’re home,” he shouted in my ear. Home. Right. I looked out the scratched glass, hoping to glimp...

The city is just like I imagined. Loud, messy, and way too hot. But this apartment? A total furnace. No breeze, no break from the heat pressing in from every side. I'm flopped on the couch, flipping through one of Susan's magazines, pretending I care about summer fashion. Every page is packed with perfectly lit, photoshopped women. Waists the size of my wrist. Huge boobs. Legs that go on forever. Super relatable. I glance...

The sun sank into the darkening ocean, washing the lush green island in gold. I barely noticed. Barefoot, I walked across the white, glittering sand. To actually feel the small grains — not just see them, hear them shift, or imagine the warmth — felt unreal. Too good. I shut the thought down before it dragged me under. I couldn't lose this. Not yet. So I locked onto the only thing ahead. The amber-glowing tent. Booking a...

"Thank you so much for doing this, Maya," my friend Lena said, pulling me into a tight hug on the doorstep of her dad's house. "Mom and Dad aren't exactly on speaking terms since the divorce, so calling her wasn't an option." "Of course," I said with a shrug. "It's the holidays." And since my rotation kept me from going home to visit my family for Christmas, it wasn't like I had anything better to do. "I get that it's imp...

After buying the red dress that fit like a second skin, I slipped into the nearest cafe, avoiding anyone's gaze, and ducked into the bathroom. My fingers trembled as I peeled off my shirt, shorts, and bra, leaving me standing there in just a black thong and heels. Every noise outside the door—a cough, a shuffle—made me jump. I shoved my clothes into the shopping bag and yanked off the price tag, barely taking a second to...

Angie told me she saw you—the woman you were kissing wasn't me. Now I sit alone in my car, parked outside the hotel where you're supposed to be on a business trip. My knuckles whiten as I grip the steering wheel, my chest tightening with every passing second. And then I see you. Walking in with her. Laughing. Completely oblivious. I was never the one to stray, always the good girl. But you've pushed me to the edge of my s...

The slave kneeled, her body trembling from the weight of scars etched with pain and betrayal. Each strike landed sharply—a brutal reminder of her place and her sins. Tears clouded her vision, the memory of ridding him clawing at her mind. Shame twisted inside her for betraying her Mistress for a random cock, and the guilt scorched hotter than the lashes. Each firm paddle hit her supple backside like a cleansing fire. The...

She steps from the shower, a figure of grace, The steam clings to her, soft as lace. The towel falls silent at the foot of the bed, Her body aglow where the water has bled. 𖤓 She stands in the dim light, her skin exposed, Water slides gently, tracing her thighs as it flows. Her back arches softly, a sight that commands, A silhouette traced by the brush of her hands. 𖤓 She reaches for me, her touch just a tease, Fingers li...

"I'm 17, mom. I'm too old to sit on Santa's lap," I whine, rolling my eyes. "Come on, just take a photo, sweety." I sigh, praying none of my friends are anywhere nearby to watch this humiliation. My seven-year-old brother hops off Santa's lap, laughing, as the middle-aged man in the red suit with a fake beard pats his knee, looking up at me. I step forward, tugging my mini skirt down as I prepare to sit. Leaning forward,...

I point to the scattered piles of straw littering the edges of the cave, then gesture toward the narrow opening where I first crawled in. My eyes lock with Esme's, and she nods, understanding instantly. We collect the straw with trembling hands, carefully dragging each bundle to the entrance in strained silence. The stench of sweat and filth lingers in the air, mingling with the scent of smoke from their fire. Every step...