Shivering water

Short stories of blending lives with mingling singles. Living in every dark corner of the city where no one is there to watch or to witness but needs to be happened and always will do. No one can stop or hold those moments where passed nor anyone can see the fourth coming but can endure to withhold the upcoming shores of love, lust, innocence, mysterious misfortunes or exceptional redemptions.

Infusion of love and horror of life.

A man who is ambitious enough to see the sunrise of his own hardworking life in the end of his days but the problem is it's not that simple.

Beautiful love that is pure as fresh like a dew drop to rain drop is revealed by the unfiltered beauties of unconditional love and loyalty that can remain in every single heart with unbounded sense of touch who is in love.

Short stories of blending lives with mingling singles. Living in every dark corner of the city where no one is there to watch or to witness but needs to be happened and always will do. No one can stop or hold those moments where passed nor anyone can see the fourth coming but can endure to withhold the upcoming shores of love, lust, innocence, misfortune or redemption.

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.

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.

I was planning my wedding to Ethan Carter, the man I adored. On the eve of our vows, he burned my family’s home to the ground. He wasn't my loving fiancé; he was a monster hell-bent on revenge, blaming my surgeon father for his parents' deaths. He shattered my father's career, bankrupted us, and forced me to become a servant to his cruel new fiancée. He delighted in my suffering, completely unaware of the devastating irony. The heart beating in my chest wasn't my own. It was a transplant, and his relentless torture was causing it to fail. I finally died. But I woke up again, as a child. And this time, my parents remembered the horror too. We spent years building a new, safe life. I even found real love with a kind man named Liam. I was finally happy. Then, yesterday, the man who murdered me walked into my classroom, his eyes full of regret, convinced our story deserved a second chance.

"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.

*Warning* This book contains explicit content and it's rated 18+. They can be read as standalone as they are all age-gap romances. Hope y'all are ready for a pleasant ride. xoxo. "Oh, please, sir. Please, fuck me!" I screamed in delirium. The heat from him disappeared for a moment, and I was sad and scared. Where did he go? What had I done wrong now? But he returned, sheathed and ready to plunge into me. "Oh, thank God," I said breathlessly. He chuckled a little; slowly he slid in, adjusting me on the sink, aligning me to his dick. Each thrust sent me further into a manic need to come. Perhaps I was screaming, because his hand covered my mouth. For a brief moment, I was frightened. I was panting so hard it blocked my need to breathe, but then his voice was in my ear. "Come for me, bluebird."

I' d finally done it. My resignation letter officially landed on Mr. Henderson' s expensive mahogany desk, putting a ruthless period on years of being Ethan Cole' s secret convenience. But freedom was fleeting. Isabella, his fiancée and my tormentor, summoned me to Ethan' s TriBeCa penthouse, wielding an old, whimsical sketch of mine like a weapon, then slapped me clean across the face. Ethan arrived, and instead of defending me, he smoothed Isabella' s perfect, glistening fake tears, dismissing me as someone who "meant nothing" -just "a release." Emboldened, Isabella snatched my portfolio, spilling my architectural dreams-designs for community centers-and pouring red wine directly onto them, staining my future crimson. Ethan then tossed a wad of cash at my feet, his voice flat: "For the dry cleaning. Now get out." I stumbled out into the New York downpour, each raindrop a tiny hammer pounding home the gut-wrenching humiliation of being so utterly worthless to the man I' d loved. How could he, the center of my naive world, watch as my dignity and dreams were drowned in wine, then casually toss money as if I were a broken possession? But in that deepest moment of despair, something snapped. I was done being their discarded convenience, their emotional punching bag; I would disappear and rebuild a life where my peace wasn' t for sale, no matter what it took.

This book is a collection of the most erotic age gap stories ever made. Consisting of stepdad and daughter love to stepbrother and stepdaughter seducation. Dive into this Erotic Daddy series now!

For three years, my high-society marriage to Ethan Vanderbilt was a gilded cage, filled with a silence louder than any sound. I had loved him for seven years, a fervent adoration that secretly curdled into despair, despite being married to a man who barely acknowledged my existence. Then, hidden in the Hamptons estate, I overheard his raw anguish: he married me only because my supposed best friend, Chloe, begged him to, calling it her idea to protect them from scandal. My heart fractured anew when he confessed to Chloe, the woman he truly loved, that being my husband would "kill him," and later, when he confirmed to my face their entire scheme with a casual "Yes." He exploited my love even further, begging for a kidney to save Chloe' s life and promising "anything," only to later reveal his utter indifference to my well-being. At a chaotic gala, as he shielded Chloe from a champagne shower, he left me exposed to shattering glass and a life-threatening allergic reaction, proving I truly "meant nothing" compared to her. I watched him fuss over her, oblivious to my smoke-stained face after a restaurant fire, finally understanding the depth of his contempt and my own utter disposability. The man I had adored was a ghost who had systematically taken me for granted, using my heart and even my body as a mere convenience for his secret affair. How could I have been so blind, so stupid, to trade everything for a love that was always a transactional lie? There was nothing left but to embrace the chilling clarity of my shattered reality and finally set myself free. I left him the divorce papers he' d signed unread and my wedding ring, boarding a plane to Montana, leaving behind the luxurious illusion of my past life and stepping into the unknown future.

As they openly say, 'life isn't fair'! Well for me, that's exactly the definition of my own life. Not until i reached the age of 18, where i signed the most stupid arrangement and contract in my life. Do you know what consist of that so called arrangement? Well, let me tell you... it's just me and my name who and which is going to be tied 'contractually' by the end of the name of my 'jerk' (so called ) of a husband. You heard that? Contractually? Yes. We're just going to be 'contractually married' for five years... for five long years. And since it's only for five years, we don't need to act like those typical husband and wife or a lovey-dovey-couple that you can see everywhere, holding each other's hands while walking, hugging, kissing.. and ohh.. eating each other's face, because that's exactly the opposite situation of our marriage. He hates me with all his guts and same with me.. although i don't knowthe reason why and where his hates coming from. So here i am, Arrianna Angela Kelley-Smith, married to Alexander Jonathan Smith who is known to be one of the successful and richest bachelor --slash--womanizer in the whole business state of California. Hmmp! Little did they know, he was already married to me four years ago...

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.