Do Me Bleach My Butt Novels & Stories

I’d just wrapped up a short trip with my daughter, Elara. On the way back, I figured I’d swing by the Hale, our family’s casino, to check in on my son, Cassian. Maybe grab dinner together. I didn’t expect to be mistaken for his latest fling. Correction: not mistaken—accused. Violently. “You think you can just waltz in here like some queen?” she hissed. “I’m the woman Cassian loves! What kind of whore are you? And is this your bastard daughter with him?” She locked us in the basement. No phone. No light. Just concrete walls and the stench of mildew and madness. Then came the fists. She slapped me across the face—again and again—until my skin stung and my ears rang. When that didn’t satisfy her, she pulled a gun and aimed low. The bullet tore through my knee. I bit back a scream, shielding Elara with my body. “You need to die, whore,” she spat. One of her men hesitated, “We should at least tell Mr. Hale first. If we are going to kill these two in his casino.” Lila of course said no. But that man brought Cassian anyway. My son stepped into this dark little room like it was any other Tuesday—until he saw me. His whole body went still. The blood drained from his face. And then, in the smallest, most broken voice I’d ever heard from him, he whispered, “Mom? What are you doing in my basement?”

To take care of my mother after she fell and injured herself, I turned down a promotion and took a week off work to stay by her side. On the day she was discharged from the hospital, she smiled and handed me a small envelope. “Suzy, you’ve worked hard these past few days. This is just a little something from me. Go treat yourself to something good.” I wiped my hands, a quiet warmth spreading through my chest. When I opened the envelope, I froze for a moment. Inside was $2. Still, I told myself it didn’t matter. The amount wasn’t important. What mattered was the thought behind it. But the very next day, while scrolling through social media, I came across a post from my younger brother, the one who hadn’t shown his face at the hospital even once. Nine photos filled the post, all of them showing off a sprawling luxury mansion. In the center was a photo of the purchase contract. The caption read: “Officially the owner of a $2 million riverfront house. Big thanks to Mom for the support!”

"Take off your ring." His command settled deep in my bones. I shouldn’t be doing this. And yet… I slid the ring off my finger. He stood on the other side of the room, his face hidden in shadows, but I felt him—his presence wrapping around me like a dark temptation. "Take off your clothes." I obeyed, my fingers hesitating at the waistband of my underwear. "I didn’t tell you to touch that." So I stood there—shoes on, pants still clinging to my hips—while my engagement party continued just down the hall. His gaze burned through me, drinking me in. "God, Butterfly." His voice was a tortured whisper, and I ached to comfort him. "Crawl to me." The words settled over me like silk and steel. Slowly, on all fours, I obeyed… --- Alessandra has always been the family push over even when her father forces her into a marriage. She plays the role of the perfect fiancée—obedient, loyal, untouchable. Until she meets him. Jeremy’s best friend. A man just as powerful, just as dangerous—but with eyes that see right through her. A man who tempts her to break every rule, risk every consequence. They hate each other on sight. But hate is just another kind of heat, and the fire between them threatens to burn everything to the ground. Loving him could cost her everything. Resisting him might destroy her. Either way, she’s already ruined. ~~~~~ Trigger warning : Dark Romance, obsession, Forbidden Romance, Male lead is a bit mentally checked out...

This year, as the country's leading neurosurgeon, I was invited to perform a high-profile specialist surgery at a hospital in another state. Twenty years ago, I stood in this very operating room. My mother suffered a cerebral hemorrhage, and the surgeon's hand slipped by less than a quarter of an inch. She died. Back then, it was my first love, Ethan Lancaster, who helped me through the grief. Only later did I learn the truth. The surgeon listed on the case was Ethan's father, the hospital's renowned Chief of Neurosurgery. But the one actually holding the scalpel was Ethan himself, still a surgical resident at the time. He and Vanessa Hart had planned it all along. They used my mother's operation as a practice case to advance his career. After the tragedy, Vanessa used her status as the hospital director's daughter to bury the entire incident. From that day forward, I gave up my guaranteed research placement and sat for medical school entrance exams again. I studied from undergraduate through postdoctoral training. I spent twenty full years turning myself into the kind of surgeon who would never make that mistake. All so that one day, no one else would have to suffer the same tragedy my mother did. Today, my assistant slid a patient's file across the desk. Brainstem tumor. Late stage. Extremely high risk. The face in the photo had aged considerably, but I recognized it at a glance. I handed the file back to my assistant and removed my surgical coat. “I can't perform this surgery.”

My sister and I got into a car crash. My heart was ruptured, and I needed immediate surgery if I were to live. My mother, being the director of her hospital, sent all the doctors to my sister instead, all just to check on her. She barely got hurt. I pleaded and begged for my mother to save me, but impatience got the better of her. She roared, "This isn't the time to take any attention away from your sister! She almost had a bone fracture!" And I died. I remember where it was. It was a freezing operating theater.

I've been overlooked by the Lawson family a hundred times over. On birthdays, they only ever get a cake for my sister, Jocelyn Lawson. When I'm sick, I lie alone in a hospital bed while they fuss around her. I tell myself to tough it out and be a good daughter, but no amount of my endurance ever earns me a drop of their favor. On my wedding day, I think I'll finally get my moment to shine, at least for once. But I'm wrong. My parents, my brother, and even my fiance—Felix Wright, the head of a mafia empire—abandon me to attend Jocelyn's graduation ceremony. They leave me standing alone at the altar, enduring the guests' whispers and pitying glances. But Felix just throws me a cold line. "It's just a wedding. We'll make it up another day." It's not the first time. At our engagement party, Jocelyn whimpers about a stomachache, and he rushes her to the hospital without a flicker of hesitation. I'm left to smile through gritted teeth, making excuses to a room full of guests. That's the moment it hits me. To them, I'll always be the spare. So, I walk away. I pack my bags and carry a secret with me—the child growing inside me. This time, I'm done waiting for their scraps of affection. I'm starting a new chapter in my life, for me and my baby.

My brother Christopher owned a boutique on Fifth Avenue. I'd gone in, picked out a few pieces, grabbed a silk scarf on the way, and was heading for the door. The clerk behind the register stopped me. "Ma'am, we'll need you to settle this now." I looked up. Her name tag said Yvonne. Unfamiliar face. Probably new. I didn't think much of it. "Just put it on the owner's account," I said politely. "He knows who I am." She gave a little snort through her nose, eyes raking from my hair down to my shoes. "We don't run accounts here. You might have the wrong store." She pushed an itemized bill across the counter. Four hundred thousand dollars. I scanned the line items. Personal Style Consultation. Premium Fitting Service. VIP Client Private Service. Every single charge cost more than the clothes themselves. I let out a short laugh. "I'm a Whitfield. Christopher's my brother. Whatever this is, he can deal with it at home." Her smile got uglier. "Anyone can claim to be a Whitfield, sweetheart. Are you trying to skip out on the bill, or are you just trying to embarrass yourself?" I didn't bother arguing. I pulled out my phone and texted Christopher: [Fire the clerk named Yvonne in the next ten minutes, or I pull every dollar I have in this store.]

“You think you can trap me with a baby?” He hissed, his voice low and venomous. “Jackson, I’m not trying to trap you,” I said in between sobs. “You can confirm from the doctor.” Jackson snorted in disbelief. “You could have easily bribed the doctor to fabricate the whole thing.” . “What? No, Jackson, I’m telling the truth.” I sat upright on the bed. “I’m pregnant with your child and we don’t have to go through with the divorce anymore.” “Of course!” Jackson let out a cold and mocking laughter. “This was your plan all along. Do you think a baby will keep me tied? And don’t think for a second that I won’t make sure that the doctor pays for her part. She’ll lose her job and everything.” ~•~ When Jackson’s ex comes back into his life with his child, he ends his three year marriage with Kimberly. It just so happens that right after signing the divorce papers, Kimberly finds out she’s also pregnant. However, Jackson doesn’t believe her. What will happen when they cross paths again five years later? Will Kimberly take him back despite all the humiliation or will she humiliate him back?

Warning🔞: This book drips with heat and secrets. It’s bold, shameless, and unapologetic. Vows will be tested. Desire will betray. Step inside and let passion, temptation, and sin consume you. “He doesn't make this pussy drip like this, does he?” he strokes my folds and I bite my lip, staring at him, withholding my answers and moans. He halts and I almost jerk off the edge of the desk to meet his long, rough veiny fingers. “Use your words or you are not getting any.” “No.” ~ Nadia Richards seemed to have the perfect luxurious life that every woman dreamed of—a successful designer and married to one of the richest men in the world. On the outside, her marriage bore no cracks, but behind closed doors when the cameras were off, Nadia struggled with pleasing her husband who seemed to be drifting away from her. Her once-perfect marriage was now a shell and she was desperate to fix it. Her whole world crumbled when her husband insisted that he wanted to make their relationship open. To Nadia, that meant that she was slowly losing her grip on her marriage. When push came to shove, Nadia found herself at a club, entangled in a sizzling one night stand with a hot, mysterious stranger. What should have ended as the gravest mistake she had ever made turned around to haunt her like a nightmare when she found out that the man she slept with was Jordan Hayes, her husband's mysterious best friend who abhors secrets and mysteries of his own. Nadia soon decided to play her husband's game by getting into a mutually benefitting arrangement with his best friend, but could she really not catch feelings when sparks started flying?

My brother was a twisted, paranoid psychopath. When I was ten, my parents were murdered. Both my legs broke off while I tried to save my brother. I became his only family and also Achilles’ heel. Those who mocked me as a crippled would have their bones broken, and anyone who tried to hurt me would be smashed into a pulp. As he reclaimed our family’s fortune, he became “the Devil” in Amberwater, a man no one dared to offend. Yet, he alone spoiled me like I was a little princess. Everyone knew that Lucas’s sister was untouchable. He had sent me abroad to receive the best treatment. The day that I could finally stand up again, I received an invitation to my brother’s engagement banquet. “Veronica, we’re going to have a new family member soon.” I heard that his fiancee was the daughter of a wealthy family. She was gentle and virtuous. I dressed beautifully to meet her and planned to give her the jade bracelet that my mother had left behind. However, she had me kidnapped and taken to an abandoned construction building. “You lowly little witch. I’ll rip that face of yours since you’re such a seductress. I’ll see how you’ll steal my man now!” She crushed my mother’s heirloom, broke all my limbs, and ripped my face off. Then, she ordered a dozen men to torment me to death. In the end, she stuffed me into a gift box and sent it to my brother. “Dearest, this is your wedding gift. Do you like it?”