Studio C Memes Novels & Stories

I f*** my Stepfather in front of my blind mother. What is more? I made him dress like a housemaid and wipe my went c*** as he wiped the floor. I'm not a bad girl. I'm just a girl in need of her step-daddy's hot c*** and he gave me anyhow I wanted it. HEYSSS, THAT IS JUST A TIP OF THE ICEBERG FROM THIS SINFUL TALE. -DADDY GIRLS DON'T BEG FOR C*** THEY ORDER IT LIKE IT'S ON THE KFC MENU. -DADDY GIRLS DON'T THINK OF S***, THEY SLEEP WITH C**** BURIED IN THIER CUNTS. -DADDY GIRLS DON'T IMAGINE. THEY F*** WHAT BELONGS TO CEAESER AND CEASER HIMSELF. Get Ready for a dangerous but lustful ride.

Haunted by the past, can a legend and a single mom find love? Can anything go right? Would they ever be able to fall in love? Will she be able to see past his darkness? Will he be able to protect her when danger comes knocking? Find out in this book... ................. Alex Franzetti runs a studio, but once upon a time, he was someone else. Nearly 30 years later, he's given up the rock star lifestyle after unbearable tragedy strikes. Em Reilly was once a wild child, but settled down after the birth of her daughter. Now struggling with a younger brother who's threatening to go down a dark path, she's almost at the end of her rope. Following a series of daring exploits, a puzzling event occurred. *************** The NO STRINGS ATTACHED book is a collection of mature romance steamy series. For readers above 18. Feel free to jump to any story that tickles your fancy. Relax and enjoy this epic, thigh tingling, steamy book compiled for your pleasure.

“Oh daddy… I am going to c*m Daddy... I am going to c*m ” her eyes rolled backward as she felt her orgasm wrecking through her. “Yes, princess! You are going to c*m, but you are going to do that while staring into my eyes, so stare at me while you c*m so hotly on my fingers. Nuella’s eye rolled forward and she bit on her lower lips trying to keep her gaze on him, her nails digging into his arms and her body quivering uncontrollably. “Good girl… Now c*m for Daddy. Grace Daddy’s fingers with your beautiful c*m,” “Argghh… thank you, Daddy.Thank you.” Nuella’s back arched and her toes curled as she came hard on his finger, her body spamming uncontrollably as she tried to remain daddy’s good girl by keeping her eyes on his. “Good girl.. Daddy loves how you c*m.Keep c*mming.” he urged plumping his hands in and out of her pussy, her body quivering underneath him. Devine pulled his fingers out of her pussy, with her eyes holding onto his, he moved his finger to his lips and slowly began to glide on her juice. “So tasty..” He mummed hotly, s*cking hotly on it, while Nuella remained still, her p**sy craving more of his touch. Bad of her to crave the wrongest sin in the world, but he was the one who made her heart leap and her p**sy tingle at mare sight. Mr Devine El Lorenzo was her father's youngest friend and the renowned mafia viper, but her body yerned for his touch. Once, she got a taste of him, now she was back on his bed pleading for another, taking his command and being Daddy’s Good Girl.

One night, I was a girl seeking vengeance in a velvet mask. He was the stranger who took me against a cold stone wall, his touch a silent, lethal promise. Now, he is Caspian Blackwood—the most feared architecture professor at Aethelgard. When my "perfect" boyfriend, Dominic Calloway, cheats on me and sabotages my degree, Caspian offers a lifeline with a razor-thin edge: Be his silent, nude model for thirty days. The rules are absolute. I must wear a silk mask and a weighted collar. I must never speak. I must hold the poses he demands until my muscles scream for mercy. In the lecture hall, he ignores me with arctic indifference. In the studio, his gaze is a physical weight, stripping me faster than his hands ever could. But as the charcoal scratches against the paper, I realize the "deal" isn't just for art. It’s for the soul I accidentally gave him in the dark. Will the deal destroy his career, or consume me first?

My husband is known as a ruthless CEO, but somehow, he is tender and warm with me. I'm passionate about art restoration, especially antique paintings, so he transforms his private collection room into a professional-grade studio just for me. He even brings in top experts to mentor me. Once, I spent three sleepless nights restoring a rare 12th-century painting. He ends up buying the entire museum that the painting belongs to, just so I can study it without restrictions. To marry me, he goes head-to-head with his powerful family, even stages a hunger strike, until they finally give in. At our engagement party, he gets down on one knee in front of everyone and says, "Ash, you deserve nothing but the best in this world." The ring he designs himself has an engraving on the inside that says, "Art brought us together, love holds us forever." Everyone says Vincent Hawthorn loves me like a maniac, and I believe it—until I restore one of his late mother's paintings…

After billionaire Jonathan Whitman lost his fortune, his wife Selene had no choice but to work as a maid in a mansion to make ends meet. She scrubbed toilets. She cleaned pools. She hauled out garbage—right up until she lost the baby she was carrying. And then she discovered her husband's affair with Vivienne, her employer. She was sleeping with Selene's husband, carrying her husband's baby, wearing million-dollar rubies, sleeping in silk, dining on imported delicacies. The moment she walked in on them, Selene snapped and pushed Vivienne. But Jonathan, to protect her, had Selene arrested and held in detention. He thought she'd come out of it humbled. Quiet. Tamer. What he didn't know was that the moment she walked free, she filed for divorce. She walked out of the basement studio they'd shared without a backward glance. What he also didn't know: he had a genetic infertility condition. And the only woman on earth whose body could give him a child—was Selene.

During summer break, I took my son, Luke Thorne, diving at our private beach. Ralph Foster, a hotshot TV actor, suddenly showed up with a whole entourage and barged in. "This is a private beach that Gloria personally secured for me to entertain VIPs. You two nobodies had better get lost right now!" He threw his weight around and even dragged my wife, Gloria Stokes, out as a threat. When he learned who I was, he went a step further and mocked me as a kept man living off my wife. I actually laughed. I was the head of the Thornes, the most powerful family in Frenkinston. Since when did I become some freeloading, useless husband? On top of that, Gloria's film studio and every bit of her backing came from me. But when Gloria arrived, she sided with Ralph and actually tried to force Luke to put on a show for some sleazy investors. Sneering, I made a call that only the head of the Thornes had the authority to make. "Shark Vanguard, clear Crescent Bay. Now."

My lips...p**sy lips... were reluctant to spread open because of the slick smeared between them. He placed two of his big hands on my arched knees and separated them. My thighs jiggled and I moaned. His c**k was so fat. I could feel the mighty weight when he dropped it on my c*nt. And just when he was about to slide his tip inside me, I held his c*ck and he looked at me, wondering why I was stopping him all of a sudden. Then I said, "Not yet. We'll go after whoever's reading this starts reading the book,"

I used to be the most promising composer of my generation. But while I was working on my latest piece, my husband Charles Lambert's childhood friend destroyed everything I had. She slashed my face, stole my compositions, and set fire to my house—leaving me to burn alive alongside the kitten I'd just adopted. Then, as if my death were just a spark for her success, she posted my compositions online, claiming I'd plagiarized her. And people believed her. Everyone did. Strangers on the internet sneered and spat my name, and my own husband, Charles, chose to believe her over me. Even the International Musical Society rescinded my award and handed it to her without a second thought. My students, who once followed me loyally, were now fawning over her. I became the laughingstock of the entire internet—mocked, discredited, erased. It wasn't until a week later, when someone stumbled upon the charred remains of my lakeside studio, that they found what was left of me.

Grandpa died, and we immediately went for each other's throats over the inheritance. Then a blizzard hit, trapping us all in the family estate. An app appeared on our phones: [THE LAST ZOMBIE: FINAL RECKONING]. We had to pick a hiding spot. The last one standing—the last human standing—would inherit everything. I chose the dark, silent recording studio in the basement. Away from them all. When it was time to pick special powers, my family chose powerful weapons or pocket dimensions full of supplies. I chose Bio-Stasis. It slowed my cells to a crawl, and my body along with them. My stepbrother's fiancée, Chloe, called me an idiot. "Hiding from your family and picking a useless power? You're on a suicide mission." They threw a zombie-slaying party upstairs, already celebrating an inheritance they hadn't even won. Until, one by one, they turned. And started tearing each other apart. What they didn't know... was that I'd rigged the game from the start. The only way to win was to stay completely silent.