Trolls Table Cloth Novels & Stories

Stephan had wanted to use parsley his fiancee to blackmail his uncle into giving him a contract while having affair with her step sister . unfortunately for Stephan his uncle who was known to be ruthless cold and arrogant turned the table on him and made parsley his.

She watch with horror and eyes fully widened as he tears her cloth roughly inserting his joystick into her in full force. ‘’Lay down, your head singing praises to the floor’’ his harsh word hit her and she finds herself crumbling to his commandment immediately, She dare not question him nor delay because she still love her life but this was never the plan. She never planned to end in the devil hell. Sarah Manuel have always wished to be free to travel the world and do whatever she pleased, but one night a tragedy occurred that changed everything: she was to be sold to a ruthless billionaire with a heart darker than the devils who is trapped In between looking for a bride who will give him an heir or losing his father's assets, he should give him a grandson in a year or lose his assets. Finally married to him against all odds and still seeks freedom from his hell she plans with some gangster and escaped on her wedding day only to meet what she never excepted, a truth bonding her to her worst nightmare forever, a dangerous nightmare she never wished happened.

Due to my heightened sensitivity, even the slightest touch causes an uncontrollable reaction. My husband, concerned, sends me to the hospital for treatment. As I lie on the operating table, the attending doctor unexpectedly triggers a wave of intense response from me—right in front of my husband.

WARNING ⚠️: This book contains some violence, explicit and mature content, BDSM, and is highly rated 18+. Just once, he thrust deeper and my lips gaped, trembling…my fingers squeezed his cloth tighter. “Why do you smell this way? Just why?” his voice was barely a whisper. I wanted to answer him…to tell him he was the whore here, but fućk…..he pushed into me deeper, once, twice and again. …… It was supposed to be a seven day contract and then we parted ways, but I didn't just end up being his rival…one whose mother he's been searching for all these years, but also I became the slave who the Alpha king relieves his stress in her damped fold. Was it the matebond? I doubted it. He wasn't just all over me, but I also prayed each day that he sends for me, have me tied up and f*cked until my body convulsed under him. He was dominant and possessive, and I submitted to every bit of him…

URIEL CLAES. Not only was I a blind Alpha and a laughingstock. But it was inescapable to avoid this Omega, my mate, foreordained by the moon goddess, to be with five mates. Can you imagine that? Out of the fuckward alphas for her to be with, she chose me. A blind Alpha who can’t tell the difference between a red cloth and a blue one. How hilarious is that? RAAVA SNOWFALL. I was an eyesore within the Frostbite clan and my family, tormented, abused, and ridiculed me in front of everyone. Including my husband. My life became completely consumed by anguish, pain, and derision when my father sold me to an Alpha for his own selfish interests, who shamelessly turned out to be one of my mates. An arrogant, cold-hearted playboy from another pack who gets into anything with a hole became my husband. Surviving each day as his wife was like walking over hot coals. I knew I needed to survive, but none of my mates I have come across could help me. Until I met this blind alpha, I knew what I needed to do.

I'm undressed and bound to a testing table when my family comes to pick me up. A thick, sharp needle pierces into my neck. A drug is administered into my blood, and the pain almost makes me lose consciousness. Behind me, I can feel a man's cold hands stroking my skin amorously. Before me, several people are staring at me. They point at me and treat me like an educational instrument. I tremble in fear and curl up on the testing table in pain. Three years ago, my brother sent me to Mykorra's war zone to stand up for Yvette Sanders. Those were the three most insulting and torturous years of my life. They burned away my hope for kinship but not my desire for survival. As the hands roam lower on my body, I bite my lip so hard that I almost draw blood. As the hands start to go overboard, someone knocks on the door. "Wendy Sanders, your brother is here for you."

I confirmed Vincent Lowe was cheating on me on the day of our third wedding anniversary. The dining table was filled with dishes, yet he barely touched his fork before heading out the door. "Where are you going?" I asked. His answer was unnervingly straightforward. "A friend's treating me to dinner. Cassidy Mason—you know her, right? It's a free meal. It'd be a waste not to accept." An hour later, however, I received a voice message from Cassidy. In the message, Vincent's voice was lighter and livelier—so different from how he ever sounded with me. "They say you should marry someone you can truly enjoy a meal with. I really regret meeting you so late. If only I had known you earlier, I would've married you instead." I listened in silence. Then, alone at the table, I finished every last bite of the meal I had prepared. Afterward, I left a divorce agreement behind.

My dad arrives at the hotel after taking three bus rides from the town two hours before the wedding starts. He's wearing the old suit that he has kept for the past ten or so years. The cuffs have gone white from all the washing, and his shoes shine brightly from all the polishing. Before entering, Dad has specifically pinned the red boutonniere to his chest several times while looking at his reflection in the glass of the hotel's main entrance just so he can get it right. After all, it symbolizes his status as the bride's father. When Dad is about to take his seat, he grasps the card that shows his seat as he approaches my future husband, Elliott Chambers, tentatively. "Elliott, there seems to be a mistake with my seat." Elliott merely glances at the card before pushing it back to Dad. "Your seat is correct. There are limited spots at the main table, so you'll have to sit at a spare table at the back." Dad is stunned by Elliott's answer. "But it says here that I'm meant to sit at the main table…" Elliott frowns at Dad. "This is a last-minute adjustment. The shareholders and important clients of Chambers Corp will be attending my wedding today. Not everyone gets to sit at the main table." Dad looks down at his old suit before he slowly stuffs the card back into his pocket. He wants to take off the boutonniere, but the pin gets stuck in the fabric of his jacket. The more he wants to take it off, the more his hand keeps shaking. That's when Elliott's mother, Catherine Aldridge, speaks up. "All the seats are the same, Patrick. Don't cause any trouble for Elliott now." Dad quickly nods in response. "You're right. I'm fine with any seat." Then, he picks up the old wooden chest that's sitting by his feet before heading toward the spare table that's located in the corner. I raise my head, only to see a seating card titled "The Carvers" being placed on the most obvious spot of the main table. At the moment, Elliott is helping Claire Carver's mother into her seat. As for my dad, he's hugging the chest containing the wedding gifts meant for me while sitting by the kitchen door.

At our Thanksgiving family dinner, my stepbrother brought his beautiful girlfriend to meet the family for the first time. She held up her wine glass and flashed me a malicious smirk. “I heard you had a first love you can’t forget, Summer.” I kept my head low and focused on my food, unsure how to respond. After all, my first love… was her boyfriend. When I was seventeen, my stepbrother Ethan Cole tricked me into crossing the line we should never have crossed, while our parents were blissfully unaware. Even right now, under the table, his foot was rubbing mine sensually. He did not bother holding back. On the table, he held his girlfriend’s hand tenderly as he mocked me with a smirk, “You’re twenty-seven, sis. Your shelf life is running out, and you’re such a plain Jane. Who would ever want you?” I stood up abruptly and looked at him, my tone calm and resolute. “I’m married, Ethan.”

My ex-boyfriend, the Don's heir, was getting married today. In the grand reception hall, the bride, Elena, moved through the crowd with a champagne flute in hand, toasting the bosses and captains who'd flown in from across the island. In the dressing room, Luca had me pinned against the gown the bride had just changed out of, fucking me hard. The mirror gave me back a stranger, hair tangled, not a stitch of clothing left on me, my neck covered in marks he'd left like a signature. The camera on the side table blinked red. Three knocks at the door. Luca stood up, straightened the white rose boutonniere on his lapel, picked up the black earpiece from the table and pressed it in. He tossed it at me without looking. "One night. Half a million euros. Anna, you're even pricier than I remembered." I watched his back as he walked out, and picked up the check with shaking hands. Rosa, don't be scared. Mama's got the money to save you.