Titles For Knights Novels & Stories

My husband insisted that I wear high heels at the company’s annual meeting despite being pregnant. He compared me to his female secretary with a look of disdain. "Can’t you learn from Lucille? She’s eight months pregnant and still comes to work in full makeup, handling her tasks efficiently. If you don’t wear them, don’t go. I’ll be embarrassed!" He even tried to give the high heels to his secretary and take her as his date. Left with no choice, I forced myself to wear them. However, on the balcony, the secretary tripped me, spilling red wine all over me. Limping, I found my husband, only for him to sneer, "Tripping on flat ground? How clumsy!" Furious and pale with anger, I turned to leave. Someone urged him to chase after me, but he only got angrier. "How bad could it be? She’s so timid—she can’t survive without me! Just wait. When the event’s over, she’ll definitely be waiting in the car to drive me home." Alas, he was wrong. I turned and went straight to the hospital for an abortion.

All it took was a single exchange between my sister and Giselle’s lover, and my daughter accused her of stealing a gold bracelet. As a result, my sister was left to die in a warehouse for three whole days. With my sister’s life hanging by a thread, I got on my knees and pleaded before my wife and daughter. “Please, let Lucy go. She won’t speak to Theo again.” Faced with my pleas, my daughter simply let out a cruel smile. “I can release her, but only if she returns the bracelet.” Lucy never took the bracelet in the first place. There was no way she could return something that was never in her possession. Agony ripped through me as I crawled toward Giselle. “Please, Giselle. I’m begging you. Please let her go. She’s going to die at this rate!” Giselle took one cold, hard look at me before uttering, “So she’s been hung to dry for three days. She won’t die. If you really want her release, you should hand over your mother’s keepsake to Theo.”

For the past nineteen years Maya has been living with the feeling that her mom would one day return home to her since his father lied to him that she ran away the night she was born. In a quest to find answers to why her mother abandoned them, Maya found out that her mother never left instead she was killed. What would happen once she finds out that her own father is the main culprit?

I groan, leaning my body over his, resting my forehead against his shoulder. “Ride me, Angel.” He commands, panting, guiding my hips. “Put it in me, please…” I beg, biting his shoulder, trying to control the pleasurable sensation that's taking over my body more intensely than any orgasm I have felt alone. He's just rubbing his dick on me, and the sensation is better than any I've been able to provide on my own. “Shut up.” He says hoarsely, digging his finger even harder into my hips, guiding the way I ride on his lap quickly, sliding my wet entrance and causing my clit to rub against his hard-on. “Hah, Julian…” His name escapes with a loud moan, and he lifts my hips with extreme ease and pulls me down again, making a hollow sound that makes me bite my lips. I could feel how the tip of his dick dangerously met my entrance… Angelee decides to free herself and do whatever she wants, including losing her virginity after catching her boyfriend of four years sleeping with her best friend in his apartment. But who could be the best choice, if not her father's best friend, a successful man and a convicted bachelor? Julian is used to having flings and one-night stands. More than that, he has never been committed to anyone, or had his heart won over. And that would make him the best candidate… if he were willing to accept Angelee's request. However, she's determined to convince him, even if it means seducing him and messing with his head completely. … “Angelee?” He looks at me confused, maybe my expression is confused. But I just open my lips, saying slowly, “Julian, I want you to fuck me.” Rating: 18+

Warning: 18+ only. Featuring hardcore taboo and age-gap erotica. This is an erotic boxset containing yet another twelve stories of irresistible steam, steam, fun, and naughty stories. If you're not up to eighteen, this book is not for you. Get ready to be intrigued. To feel. To...burn. --------- "You think I'm a softie?" My voice is deceptively gentle when the rest of me is so hard. "Do you know why I pulled over?" "Why?" she says, seeming to hold her breath. "I pulled over because I know tight pussy when I see it." I frame her jaw with my right hand, tilting her blushing face up toward mine. "I'd like to fuck you on all fours, right here in the middle of the road, little girl. Rough as you can stand. Still think I'm a softie?" "No," she gasps, the green of her eyes deepening to a forest shade. "I don't." "Good."

After struggling with infertility for years and being betrayed by her lover, Ella finally decides to have a baby on her own. However everything goes wrong when she gets inseminated with the sperm of intimidating billionaire Dominic Sinclair. All of a sudden her life is turned upside down when the mix up comes to light -- especially because Sinclair isn't just any billionaire, he's also a werewolf campaigning to be Alpha King! He's not going to let just anyone have his pup, can Ella convince him to let her stay in her child's life? And why is he always looking at her like she's his next meal?! He couldn't be interested in a human, could he?

On Children's Day, the most popular social media post is about me. The caption is: "Mr. Shane Norton spends his birthday with his son David Norton and his first love, Ruth Feynman. Has he finally decided to divorce Ayla Sanderson?" I quietly press the "like" button. When my phone rings, I'm in the midst of taking down the balloons I put up for our wedding anniversary. "Honey." My husband sounds anxious as he tries to explain himself. "David suddenly insisted that we go to a theme park, so I—" In the background, I hear David laughing. "Dad, Ruthie says that I can sleep with her tonight!" I look at the mess in the house. The balloons are drooping, and the cream on the cake is congealed. "You don't have to explain," I hear myself say. "I understand." It's just that this time, I don't want you or David any longer, Shane.

On our tenth anniversary, Evan Rodger and I decided to tattoo each other's names on our chests. After the tattoo session, I woke up with my head still feeling groggy. To my dismay, I found the words "Old Crone" tattooed in a bold font across my chest. Upon noticing the way my expression dropped, Isabel Hawthorn, who was the tattooist, snickered, "You’ve been dating Evan for a decade, but he still hasn’t registered your marriage together. What does that make you if not an old crone?" I smashed the mirror on the spot, which spewed broken shards in her direction. Evan practically threw himself in her direction and pulled her into his arms to protect her. He snapped at me with a ferocious scowl, "She’s just a young, naive girl who was trying to make a joke. Why are you picking on her?" I stared intently at the parted collar of his shirt. What was supposed to be my name tattooed on his chest had been replaced with "Isabel Hawthorn, My Only Love". Isabel wrapped her arms around Evan. She expertly played the victim and appealed dearly to him, "Evan said he liked my name last time, so I was only trying to make a joke. You wouldn’t be upset at me, would you, Claire?"

My wife, Alisha West, has always been obsessively frugal. After marrying her, my single guilty pleasure became blowing money on luxury watches—almost like revenge for how absurdly tightfisted she was. By the time our daughter, Elyse Day, turned 7, she had inherited every bit of her mother’s penny-pinching nature. The two of them looked completely out of place in our sprawling mansion. And I loved it. I’d slip into my latest custom-tailored suits and watch them wince at my credit card statements, their expressions twisted in quiet pain. Until one day, lines of floating text suddenly appeared before my eyes. [This spendthrift idiot is still shopping? Doesn’t he know his wife’s company is about to go bankrupt?] [She’s been drained dry supporting this parasite. Her T-shirt collar is practically worn out from washing. Good thing the financially savvy male lead is about to show up and save her.] [Can’t wait for Alisha to file for divorce and kick this useless freeloader out. Let’s see how he survives fighting stray dogs for scraps under a bridge.] I slammed the limited-edition Richard Mille watch onto the table. Alisha, who was crouched on the floor breaking down delivery boxes for recycling, and Elyse, who was helping stomp them flat, both jumped in shock. A chill ran through me. I lunged forward, snatched the battered cardboard box from Elyse’s hands, and held it tightly against my chest. "No… no more buying. I’m returning this watch. "And these boxes… don’t sell them. I think we might need them someday… to lay out under a bridge when we’re sleeping outside…"

Sandra had never imagined that she would be left all alone on her wedding day. Ivy had always threaten to commit suicide due to her depression. As such, everyone would always try to please her. There was no exception even at Sandra's wedding. Sandra had had enough. She would not want to have any connection with her fiancé or her parents anymore. From now on, Sandra would only live her life for herself.