Hours 127 Novels & Stories

I paid the ultimate price in my last life for being too polite to refuse others. During a summer vacation, four children ended my life. "Talia, we’re already on the way to your place. We should be there in about two hours. No need to prepare anything special. Just keep things the way you normally do. Don’t fuss." I stared blankly as the voice came through my phone. The agony of my skin being scalded raw by boiling-hot stew was still vivid in my mind. When I had struggled and begged for help, those children had dragged me back together. In the chaos, I had fallen from the seventh floor and died with my eyes wide open. I glanced at the calendar on the wall. I had been reborn. In my previous life, my sister-in-law, Vanessa Mercer, had dumped her four kids at my home for the summer and left. I was forced to care for six children alone and was pushed to the brink of collapse. Simply because I wouldn’t let my nephew, Jaxon Mercer, play on his tablet for hours on end, and because I told him not to wander around the house in nothing but his underwear, the conflict escalated until it led to that horrifying death. My whole body trembled at the memory. I rushed into the bedroom, grabbed my identification documents, and fled toward the high-speed rail station with my two daughters, Kaia and Nova Mercer. "Mom, where are we going?" "I'm taking you on a trip. We’re going to have as much fun as we want!"

I never broke eye contact as he slicked his already hard cock up with it. It never did take him long to get hard in my presence, especially after working me open when we had stood under the stream of the shower. Shuffling his ass forward just a little, he pulled me close to help me slowly sink onto his cock. Once my ass was flushed against his lap and he was to the hilt, he sighed, and I could see the exact moment that all the stress left his body. “Thank you.” He whispered. ______ I got pregnant after a sizzling one-night stand. I didn’t know then he was the son of a billionaire mafia Don. That night, he walked over to me with powerful strides that announced to the world, that he owned it. The dim light dancing over his sculptured face, Teased me with a glimpse of perfection. His deep baritone voice vibrated thru my core, and before I knew it, we were back at my place, thrusting into ecstasy. For hours he took me to heaven and back, But on earth, he became cold as ice. Then, without so much as a name, He walked out the door and out of my life. I tried to forget him, Until I got unexpected news from my doctor weeks later. and before I had time to digest the information, I was snatched by two men. Now I’m in the presence of the Don of all Dons, congratulating me on my pregnancy. And the man that took me to heaven, is now tasked to keep me in hell.

04:00 AM. JFK International Airport. I switched off airplane mode, and my phone lit up. The first notification was an Instagram story from my husband, Donovan Valentino, Don of the Valentino family, posted at 3:30 AM: a photo of Seraphina Moretti’s back, captioned, “Run 50 completed. Package delivered safe.” An hour before that, my flight had hit catastrophic clear-air turbulence, dropping two thousand feet in seconds. I’d clung to my seatbelt until my knuckles turned white, the crumpled threat letter from a rival crew pressed like a blade against my ribs. In those blind, falling seconds, one thought burned through the panic: If I live through this—if Donovan is waiting at arrivals—I’ll tear up my transfer papers to Dubai and stay. But there were no missed calls. No messages. He’d been too busy collecting Seraphina. He knew my flight details. He just didn’t care. Four years of marriage. 50 fully armed security details for Seraphina. For my 112 long-haul flights over those same four years? The most I ever got was a driver in an unmarked sedan. Even the night Gambino’s crew tailed me from Manhattan, and I spent six hours locked in a diner bathroom. He didn’t pick up until dawn, after the twelfth try. My transfer to Dubai was confirmed. The signed divorce settlement was in my bag. This was the last time I’d ever come back for him.

I gave a stranger my panties on a plane. Not because I'm reckless. Not because I do things like this. But because Damien Cross looked at me like I was something worth destroying himself over, and I wanted to be devoured. Four hours at 30,000 feet. That's all it took for him to unravel every careful thread of the life I'd built. One look. One touch. One whispered promise that I was his. Then he vanished. No calls. No texts. Just a breaking news report showing him married to someone else, while I stood in a hotel bathroom staring at a positive pregnancy test. Six years later, I've rebuilt myself. I'm a mother. A success. I've learned to survive without him. Until he walks into my photoshoot and recognizes the birthmark he once traced with his tongue. He says he never stopped looking for me. That his marriage was a cage he's finally escaped. That the twin boys I've been raising alone are his sons, and he wants his family back. But Damien Cross is a man who deals in empires and enemies. Someone close to him wants me gone. The threats start. The danger escalates. And I realize that loving Damien means walking into a war I never signed up for. He says he'll burn the world down to keep us safe. I'm terrified he means it. Some men are worth the fall but men are the wreckage. But Damien is both.

“Don’t you want to cum, goldie?” Draven whispered harshly as his rough hands pinned her wrists above her head. Luca’s lips trailed fire down her throat, nipping at her pulse, while Mateo’s fingers dipped between her thighs, teasing her wetness as she wiggled desperate for friction. “No escaping this storm—or us.” She arched against them, a whimper escaping her lips as Luca claimed her mouth in a bruising kiss. There was no need arguing because she had known from the day they had walked in to find her naked in their bed that she was… Theirs To please. *** Soraya, a victim of abuse at the hands of her psychotic husband never thought that she would ever be free. She thought that she would wither away and die at his hands so when the opportunity to escape came, although unlikely, she grabbed it. She was free? Sadly, no. Mere hours into when her flight to freedom had taken off did it come crashing down. Literally!! She had barely had time to get over her narrow survival when she found herself trapped in a large mansion in the middle of nowhere. And worse of all, she's not alone. Have you ever heard the tale of Goldilocks and the three bears? The one where she stumbled into a cozy little cabin, ate their food and then got away scott free with three new friends. This is not that tale. In this tale, Goldie did stumble into the house of the three bears but she never went free. Instead, she discovered three psychotic brothers who showed her the consequence of trespassing.

I always had a weakness for handsome men, so I camped out online to grab one of the very first AI incubi. The brand's whole pitch was seduction tuned a hundred percent to its owner's taste. But every time I got within ten minutes of Lucien Crane, he'd force-start a system cleaning cycle, go dark, and idle out. "Master, please don't overuse me. Bacteria buildup can cause a malfunction." Left unsatisfied every single time, I finally went to customer service, and the rep looked as baffled as I felt. "An incubus unit would never break off contact with its owner. We'd recommend restarting him at home." But on the drive back, I happened to scroll past a livestream from my live-in housekeeper. The title sat right there in bold: How a Seasoned Queen Subdues In Her AI Incubus. The lighting was low. The man's earlobes were flushed, and he knelt on one knee, every inch of bared skin crossed with messy whip marks. My housekeeper wiggled her red-painted toes, all smiles. "This one's got real stamina. Five hours straight and he never once tapped out." As the comments poured in, envious, a chill ran through me. So the so-called "cleaning system" was just his excuse to slack off and idle. Behind my back, he was happily playing somebody else's obedient little sub. If he wouldn't serve me the way he was built to, then he could wait to get shipped back to the factory and scrapped for parts.

Since I've spent a few minutes using the toilet during work hours, I only receive 3500 dollars despite my salary being 20 thousand dollars. I confront my boss, Vivian Dune, immediately. Although she seems fair and just on the outside, she adopts a passive-aggressive attitude with me. "The security footage from last month shows that you've used the toilet for 40 minutes altogether. Don't tell me you're working there, right? "It'll be 500 dollars for every minute you spend in the toilet. That's the new rule of the company. Since you're a veteran employee, you should be the one taking the lead. Honestly, I already went easy on you." I'm a veteran employee who has been working at this company for ten years. Each business deal that I've closed brings the company at least 100 million dollars worth of revenue. But now, I get robbed of my most basic right as a human. Seeing my lack of response, Vivian flashes me a venomous smile. "If you really don't want to work here, you might as well leave. Do you seriously think we need you? Don't forget that your five-year contract isn't up yet. Who in this industry will want to hire you next?" I don't argue with her any further. But when my contract, which only has five days left, comes to an end, she's the one panicking instead.

"Get on your knees and fit my shaft between your filthy lips." "What?" "I'll finish if you do. I'll wrap my lips around this..." His fingers sink deep into the flesh between my thighs, and I relish his feel. "I'll let your legs hang around me, fall on my knees and sink my tongue into you." His words are tempting—not the teasing of his lips on my centre part, but the image forming in my mind of him on his knees before me. I want to see that. ** Ruby Mallory Clive loses her life only hours after being served divorce papers. By a stroke of fate, she wakes up days before her wedding, which, unfortunately, must go on. However, this time, she vows that things will be different—she will not, under any circumstance, fall for her husband, the Alpha, who hates her. Alpha Adrain Muaas Knox hates the 'Clive' family with all his heart; his contract wife is no exception. His plan had been to treat her with indifference, but the feisty little fox needed some training. When the lines between desire and hatred cross into obsession, will Ruby be able to let go of the repeating past, find her killer and await the inevitable divorce with her heart intact, or will she succumb to the Alpha's obsessive claim? ** This book can be read as a stand-alone; however, feel free to check out book one of the Lust & Hate Series: Bound to My Wicked Stepbrother.

She was a deal. Until she became his obsession. Until he became her ruin. Until the lines blur. Alina Carter has three things left: a mother in a hospital bed, an eviction notice, and twenty-four hours to find a miracle. The miracle arrives in a black car, with an envelope, and a name she already knows to fear. Adrian Voss. Billionaire. Ruthless. The kind of man people warn you about in the same breath they describe a natural disaster. His offer is simple. Move into his penthouse. Attend his events. Play the role his world requires. In return, every debt is cleared, her mother is taken care of, and she walks away in six months with her life restored. What he doesn't tell her is the truth behind the offer. That she is not a solution to his problem. She is the problem. Three years ago, Alina unknowingly destroyed one of his most important business deals — and Adrian Voss has never forgotten a debt. She was chosen. She was arranged. She was bought. But somewhere between the cold terms of the contract and the man who keeps protecting her when he doesn't have to, the lines begin to blur. Adrian begins to feel things he didn't plan for. Alina begins to see a person underneath the control she didn't expect to find. And then the truth comes out — all of it. The revenge. The manipulation. The years of planning. when they are both in danger. The only person Adrian trusts with her safety is himself. And the only question that matters is the one neither of them has an answer to yet: Can something real grow from a foundation built entirely on revenge? Or will the truth destroy them both before they get the chance to find out?

Vienna Carter’s life is a living hell and her home is Earth’s chapter of Tartarus. But when her husband goes on a month-long business trip, she seizes the opportunity to know something other than her world of pain. She joins the passengers on Queen Odette, a cruise ship that promises her the best month of her life. As she takes in the elegance of the ship and is pampered by their first-class services, she starts to believe that the promise will be fulfilled. But her hopes of a perfect vacation are thrown overboard when she finds out the man staying in the suite next to hers is none other than the love of her life,Ex-boyfriend and reason for all her suffering. Only a psychopath would choose to be hunched over a desk, working for hours on end over the deckchairs of a luxurious cruise ship, watching the sunset on the Atlantic Horizon. Hans Griffin is that psychopath. He craves his office’s cold glass walls and despises his luxurious suite aboard Queen Odette and is beginning to despise his best friend for convincing him to do this. Work helped him forget his demons but this ship is made to tear down the walls he spent the last two years rebuilding and after meeting the woman staying in the suite next to his, he fears those walls might be reduced to nothing but piles of rubble before the month is over. How will Hans endure one month with just a wall separating him and the woman who scarred him? How will Vienna keep her distance from the one man she’s forbidden to be with when she’s stuck on this cruise with him? But most importantly, what secrets will be revealed before the thirty days are over?