Since I became an adult, I wake up every day from bizarre and strange dreams. Each time I wake up, my whole body aches, and I always find ambiguous red marks and shy traces appearing inexplicably on my arms and legs...
Since I became an adult, I wake up every day from bizarre and strange dreams. Each time I wake up, my whole body aches, and I always find ambiguous red marks and shy traces appearing inexplicably on my arms and legs...
I was a barista working at a trendy coffee shop in Texas.
I tore off the slowly emerging order from the printer-Vanilla Mocha.
Clipping the order to the counter wall, I removed the handle from the hydraulic espresso machine. Suddenly, a tickling sensation brushed against my leg, as if something was teasing me through the fabric.
I glanced down at my calf but saw nothing.
I didn't pay too much attention to it. I continued my work: measuring the coffee grounds, tamping them down, attaching the handle back to the machine, extracting the espresso, and adding vanilla syrup.
Again, a tingling sensation crept up my leg, as if someone was gently trailing a finger from my ankle upwards.
I shivered involuntarily.
A low chuckle echoed in my ear. I turned around, unsurprised to find no one there. Was it my illusion?
As I turned back, something pressed against my backside and pinched hard! This again?
I glared at David Holland, who was extracting espresso nearby, feeling a surge of anger. This wasn't the first time!
This guy had been eyeing me for a while. Last time, he confessed and asked me to be his bottom, but after I turned him down, he kept pulling these little stunts!
No way! I was definitely not the submissive type!
I raised my arm and swung it down hard.
"What?" David rubbed the back of his head, looking at me with an innocent expression.
I frowned, seeing his genuinely confused and hurt look.
Jesus, this was awkward.
"Nothing, just messing with you," I said casually, returning to my work, pretending not to hear his muttered complaints.
If it wasn't him, then who could it be?
Suppressing my doubts, I continued working.
I poured pure milk into the frothing pitcher, creating a thick foam, and slowly poured it over the espresso, crafting a layered heart.
The Vanilla Mocha was ready.
I placed the finished drink on the tray and moved on to the next order.
Suddenly, the hem of my shirt was lifted, and a cool, soft touch caressed my waist, making my body tense.
I glanced at David, who was still focused on his work, and there was no one surrounding!
"Heh heh... So sensitive and adorable," a warm breath whispered in my ear.
I shrank my neck in astonishment, looking towards the source of the voice, but again, there was not even a single figure in sight.
Had I been watching too many horror movies?
As I bent down to measure the coffee beans, a wet sensation slid across the nape of my neck, like a gentle lick from a tongue, sending a shiver through me.
"Mmm..." "What?" David thought I was talking to him, crossing his arms and looking at me warily. "You're not planning to hit me again, are you?"
I rolled my eyes at him.
He immediately backed down, "I can be the bottom too!"
"No interest." I retorted.
Although I was recently diagnosed with a condition that prevents me from getting up, which was caused by a psychological barrier, I never intended to have sex with either girls or guys.
If I were to be part of the homosexual group, I would at least look for someone appealing!
Another low laugh echoed in my ear...
Was I losing my mind? This was so eerie!
I turned to look at David, who was back to his usual self, working diligently. Despite my growing suspicions, I had to push them aside and continue with my tasks.
Was I having another issue?
"Stella once savored Marc's devotion, yet his covert cruelty cut deep. She torched their wedding portrait at his feet while he sent flirty messages to his mistress. With her chest tight and eyes blazing, Stella delivered a sharp slap. Then she deleted her identity, signed onto a classified research mission, vanished without a trace, and left him a hidden bombshell. On launch day she vanished; that same dawn Marc's empire crumbled. All he unearthed was her death certificate, and he shattered. When they met again, a gala spotlighted Stella beside a tycoon. Marc begged. With a smirk, she said, ""Out of your league, darling."
For three years, Cathryn and her husband Liam lived in a sexless marriage. She believed Liam buried himself in work for their future. But on the day her mother died, she learned the truth: he had been cheating with her stepsister since their wedding night. She dropped every hope and filed for divorce. Sneers followed-she'd crawl back, they said. Instead, they saw Liam on his knees in the rain. When a reporter asked about a reunion, she shrugged. "He has no self-respect, just clings to people who don't love him." A powerful tycoon wrapped an arm around her. "Anyone coveting my wife answers to me."
Sunlit hours found their affection glimmering, while moonlit nights ignited reckless desire. But when Brandon learned his beloved might last only half a year, he coolly handed Millie divorce papers, murmuring, "This is all for appearances; we'll get married again once she's calmed down." Millie, spine straight and cheeks dry, felt her pulse go hollow. The sham split grew permanent; she quietly ended their unborn child and stepped into a new beginning. Brandon unraveled, his car tearing down the street, unwilling to let go of the woman he'd discarded, pleading for her to look back just once.
After five years of playing the perfect daughter, Rylie was exposed as a stand-in. Her fiancé bolted, friends scattered, and her adoptive brothers shoved her out, telling her to grovel back to her real family. Done with humiliation, she swore to claw back what was hers. Shock followed: her birth family ruled the town's wealth. Overnight, she became their precious girl. The boardroom brother canceled meetings, the genius brother ditched his lab, the musician brother postponed a tour. As those who spurned her begged forgiveness, Admiral Brad Morgan calmly declared, "She's already taken."
Since she was ten, Noreen had been by Caiden's side, watching him rise from a young boy into a respected CEO. After two years of marriage, though, his visits home grew rare. Gossip among the wealthy said he despised her. Even his beloved mocked her hopes, and his circle treated her with scorn. People forgot about her decade of loyalty. She clung to memories and became a figure of ridicule, worn out from trying. They thought he'd won his freedom, but he dropped to his knees and begged, "Noreen, you're the only one I love." Leaving behind the divorce papers, she walked away.
For eight years, Cecilia Moore was the perfect Luna, loyal, and unmarked. Until the day she found her Alpha mate with a younger, purebred she-wolf in his bed. In a world ruled by bloodlines and mating bonds, Cecilia was always the outsider. But now, she's done playing by wolf rules. She smiles as she hands Xavier the quarterly financials-divorce papers clipped neatly beneath the final page. "You're angry?" he growls. "Angry enough to commit murder," she replies, voice cold as frost. A silent war brews under the roof they once called home. Xavier thinks he still holds the power-but Cecilia has already begun her quiet rebellion. With every cold glance and calculated step, she's preparing to disappear from his world-as the mate he never deserved. And when he finally understands the strength of the heart he broke... It may be far too late to win it back.
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