Please, Kiss Me, Sir!

David, my fiancé and the man I loved, threw me out like trash seven days before the wedding. He chose his pregnant mistress, who was none other than her ex. "She's carrying my child, Rose. I have to take responsibility." Rejected and betrayed right in front of the triumphant, smiling homewrecker, I fled to a nightclub to drown my sorrows. However, I accidentally crashed into a man with a dangerously dominant aura. A mysterious figure with an intoxicating scent awakened a primal longing within me. One accidental kiss didn't just ignite sparks in my body. It awoke something that had never stirred before, not even with David. But that mysterious scent succeeded, making me want to submit to the heat and strength of his powerful body. "Alpha... can you kiss me again?"

Chapters

Chapter 5

My phone screen lights up, displaying hundreds of notifications, as if trying to make it explode.

Someone has made the party video public. With my face on display, everyone recognises me as the woman David abandoned for someone from his past. Everyone has identified the woman in that video as me.

"Dammit, who leaked it?" I whisper, trembling.

I throw the phone onto the sofa, rubbing my face in frustration.

Reporters have swarmed the entrance to my apartment building like a school of piranhas, drawn by the scent of blood. Yet, my fear of the cameras is nothing compared to the dread seeping into my marrow when I think of Xavier Sterling.

Every time I inhale, the memory of his cedarwood and musk scent invades my senses, as if he were standing right behind me. My hybrid blood surges, defying my rationality. His touch in the car that night wasn't just ordinary passion; it was the call of a predator recognising its prey.

I couldn't stay. If reporters managed to locate me, it would only take Xavier a mere flick of his fingers to drag me back into his enslavement. I had to leave. I couldn't be associated with a man who could make every werewolf clan on this continent tremble.

***

I arrived on the southern coast under a gloomy sky, as if I were mourning the chaos of my life. This fishing village is extremely remote, silent, and hidden and still largely unknown to the world. This island was the ideal location for my escape from the David scandal and the looming threat of Xavier Sterling.

I gaze at the vast, beautiful, mesmerising ocean before me. But my heart is too numb to appreciate it.

The wooden cabin I rented stands in silence on the shore, facing the roaring expanse of the sea directly.

Here, I hoped the solitude would be a balm. But I was wrong. The silence only amplified the madness in my head.

Nights on the beach feel like endless torture. Every time I close my eyes, the sound of the waves transforms into the husky baritone of Xavier's whispers.

I'm transported back to that car cabin, feeling the intoxicating heat of his body, his demanding tongue, and the small nips on my neck that felt like they were tearing my soul out.

My dreams become wild and uncontrollable. In my sleep, I see myself with him under silvery moonlight, surrendering all my dignity under his dominant hold.

I wake with a violent start. I wake up gasping for breath, my sheets damp with cold sweat, and an intense thirst seeping through every nerve, especially in my pulsing core.

"Dammit..." I curse, my voice hoarse and strange to my ears.

I scramble out of bed, my steps unsteady as if the earth were shaking. In the bathroom, I splash my face with cold water repeatedly, trying to extinguish the fire burning beneath my skin.

I stare at my reflection in the foggy mirror. My eyes glitter strangely, with an unusual flush on my cheeks.

The cause is the heat. This is an unbearable phase of arousal, a pain I have never experienced in my three years with David.

The magic stone seal on my neck feels warm. I can see hairline cracks on its surface. That brief encounter with Xavier has damaged my defences, awakening my long-dormant animal instincts.

"I must be going insane," I whisper to my reflection, my trembling fingers touching my lips that still feel the phantom pressure of Xavier's. "This can't be. I cannot succumb to my instincts. I have to forget him! He's dangerous, Rose. He is your ruin!"

I grip the edge of the sink until my knuckles turn white. I hate the reality that while my common sense screams danger, my body is thrashing, yearning for the predator I'm supposed to avoid.

***

That morning, I try to find a sliver of peace by walking along the shoreline. The sound of waves crashing against the rocks should be a soothing melody, but my hybrid instinct remains on high alert, sensing something is wrong.

The cold sea wind hits my face but does nothing to cool the fire blazing under my skin. The wet sand slips between my toes, offering a small sense of reality amidst my fading sanity.

Suddenly, my steps halt.

The air around me abruptly changes. The atmospheric pressure feels heavy, as though the presence of something massive has just sucked out the oxygen here. My sense of smell, now ten times sharper due to the cracked seal, picks up a scent.

It's a strong, cold aroma, mixed with an overwhelmingly dominant masculine fragrance. Cedarwood and musk. This scent has been tormenting me in my dreams for several nights.

"Impossible..." I whisper, my heart pounding so hard it's painful.

I slowly turn towards the rocky cliff at the edge of the beach. There stands a figure whose presence can dim the morning sunlight.

Xavier Sterling.

He stands there arrogantly, his unbuttoned white shirt billowing in the sea breeze, revealing a glimpse of the broad chest that kept me awake with desire last night.

"Hey, how could he be here?" The danger instinct inside me screams. Before he notices me, I have to leave.

I immediately turn and walk away, hoping he hasn't noticed my presence.

Regrettably, just as I'm about to arrive at my cabin, a voice abruptly stops me.

"Finally, I found you, Rose."

Thud.

My body freezes. Just hearing his voice, I already know who stands behind me.

Calm down, Rose, calm down. Act normal and pretend to be surprised.

I turn around and see Xavier standing a few steps behind me.

"M-Mr? Goodness, it's a small world, isn't it? To think we'd meet again here." I try to stay calm, accompanied by a forced, unnatural laugh.

His sharp gold eyes lock onto my gaze. He doesn't reply to my foolish words. He just walks slowly, erasing the distance between us. Each step has the rhythm of a predator who knows his prey has no escape left.

The wind carries his heavy baritone voice, "A rather far escape, Rose", right to the pit of my stomach.

My feet feel rooted to the ground, despite my desire to run. Violent tremors begin to attack my knees. "Ha ha... escape? "From what?" I know my dry laughter sounds very suspicious.

Xavier stops right in front of me. The distance is so close I can feel the radiating heat from his powerful body. He leans his face down, inhaling the air around my neck in an intensely possessive manner.

"I don't know. From what?" he whispers in a voice that sends shivers down my spine.

***

Continue to next part

I woke up with a smile on my face, the morning light filtering through our bedroom curtains. Today marked three years since I had become Mrs. Christina Hughes, and my heart fluttered with the same excitement I'd felt on our wedding day. Dante was still asleep beside me, his dark hair tousled against the pillow, his breathing deep and rhythmic. Quietly, I slipped out of bed and padded to the kitchen. I wanted everything to be perfect for our anniversary. I prepared his favorite breakfast—blueberry pancakes with maple syrup and freshly brewed coffee. The dress he'd bought me for our first anniversary—a simple blue sundress that he said matched my eyes—hung in the bathroom where I'd placed it last night. As I whisked the pancake batter, my mind wandered to the small white stick hidden in my purse. I'd taken the test yesterday, hands trembling as two pink lines appeared.

Modern Romance

8.9

Contract Bride: Rising From The Shadows

8.9

I was hired to be the "cure" for the Stuart family’s reputation, a wife whose only job was to manage the emotional risks of Casper Stuart’s cold-blooded empire. My life was governed by spreadsheets and compliance reports, and my value was measured solely by my ability to remain a silent, perfect asset. On our second anniversary, Casper didn't come home for dinner; instead, a Page Six alert showed him with a Victoria's Secret model at Soho House, his hand possessively on her back. When he finally returned, he didn't offer an apology, but a clinical reminder of my "obligations." I soon discovered he had given my three-million-dollar anniversary bonus—a pink diamond necklace—to his mistress, while tossing me a cheap bracelet his assistant had picked out. When his mother offered me a two-hundred-million-dollar settlement to disappear, Casper tore the contract to shreds in front of me. He whispered that he had bought up every cent of my family’s medical and gambling debts, turning my marriage into a life sentence of indentured servitude. To prove his power, he kicked me out of his car in a rainstorm twenty miles from the city, leaving me to walk home barefoot while he drove off with my dog. "Tell her you want to stay," he had commanded in front of his mother, using my mother’s life as leverage to keep his "portfolio" intact. I stood in the mud, shivering as the rain washed away the mask of the supportive wife, realizing that to the Stuarts, I wasn't a human being—I was a line item that could be liquidated or crushed at will. But Casper forgot one thing: I am an actress, and I’ve finally landed the role of a lifetime. I’m done managing his risks; I’m about to become his greatest liability.

Modern Mystery Romance

9.7

Just like the evening breeze leaves no trace

9.7

Chapter 1 It was their seventh wedding anniversary. Carolyn found the divorce agreement in Roger’s nightstand. The pages were covered in scribbles and corrections, as if he’d agonized over them for years. *"If, during the marriage, I fall in love with another person, I voluntarily relinquish all assets and leave with nothing. Asset details as follows…"* His first impulse had been to walk away empty-handed. But the asset section told a different story—a mess of revisions. First, he’d crossed out the property he intended to give her. Then, the fifty million earmarked for her was scratched out and replaced with five hundred thousand. Finally, as if in penance, he had written a single line. *"Better to have Carolyn leave with nothing. No choice, Catherine is pregnant."* … Carolyn sank onto the bed, disbelief washing over her. On the agreement, Roger’s signature was clean and decisive, without a hint of hesitation. And the document had been drafted seven years ago—the very year they married. That year, Roger had been willing to give up everything for her. Yet every year after, he had crossed out another piece of their shared life. Now, seven years later, the one leaving with nothing would be her. Her phone buzzed abruptly. A message from Roger. *"Urgent business. Won't be back."* She called, only to find his phone already switched off. Another notification flashed—a screenshot from a friend. Catherine, the student she sponsored, had posted on social media. *"Wow, got praised! To commemorate my first period without a leak, the big boss said we should celebrate properly!"* In a nine-photo collage, Roger gazed at her, eyes crinkling with affection as he fastened a dazzling gemstone necklace around her neck. The post was tagged at a couples-themed hotel. Carolyn’s breath caught. He couldn’t remember seven years of marriage, of weathering storms together—but he could find the energy to celebrate Catherine’s… leak-free period. And that pendant… she’d seen it at an auction just last week. It was her mother’s lost heirloom. She’d been ready to bid when her bank card was frozen. She’d asked Roger why. A long time later, he finally texted back, telling her not to waste money on such impractical things. Clutching her bidding paddle, she’d sat helplessly in the auction hall. In the end, she resolved to sell one of her own designs to raise the funds. But someone on the phone swooped in with an unbeatable offer and took it. For weeks afterward, Carolyn hated herself—hated that she couldn’t protect her mother’s last keepsake. She never imagined the one who snatched it away was Roger. He knew exactly how much that pendant meant to her. Yet he gave it to Catherine. Even on their seventh anniversary, Roger had lied about being busy with work, while wining and dining the girl she’d sponsored. The anniversary gift he left her was a divorce agreement demanding she leave with nothing. Seven years of marriage. Seven years of infidelity. And Carolyn had known nothing. She’d even introduced the other woman to him herself. Catherine was the impoverished student Carolyn sponsored. The first time Catherine came to their home to give thanks, Roger found her intrusive and disliked her on sight. *"That girl has no manners. Tracked mud all over my cashmere rug."* *"If her grades aren’t up to par, cut the sponsorship."* Back then, Carolyn had teased him, saying not to be jealous—it was good the girl had a grateful heart. She never once suspected Roger and Catherine. For seven years, everyone in their circle believed Roger never played around. That he loved only Carolyn. But by their next meeting, Catherine had become Roger’s personal assistant. Roger explained, *"The girl’s had it tough. You’ve sponsored her for years. Giving her a job is just helping you out."* Carolyn had laughed it off. Now, hands trembling, she opened Catherine’s social media feed. Catherine had always hidden her posts from Carolyn. Now, she seemed desperate to flaunt everything. While Carolyn drank until her stomach bled to secure a deal for Roger, Catherine was using Roger’s card to buy her first Louis Vuitton. While Carolyn changed bedpans for Roger’s bedridden grandmother, Roger was taking Catherine to a perfume atelier for a blending class—calling it a business trip. Catherine had even complained online. *"Your wife is such a pampered princess. Can't handle the tiniest thing without you running back. Can she not live without a man?"* And Roger had replied beneath it. *"If she were half as independent as you, I’d have an easier life."* But that day… Carolyn’s mother had lost her battle with cancer. She’d cried until her heart felt shredded, scrambling to handle the arrangements. All the while, Roger kept checking his phone impatiently, eager to leave. Not for work, she realized now—but because he was desperate to get back to Catherine.

Billionaire Modern Romance

7.8

Justice for the Humiliated

7.8

The crystal chandelier cast dancing shadows across Margaret Griffin's opulent dining room as fifty of the city's elite mingled beneath its light. I stood near the mahogany sideboard, watching Harrison hold court by the fireplace, his voice carrying that familiar tone of superiority that had grated against my nerves for ten years. "Cassandra chose this necktie for me tonight," Harrison announced, his fingers plucking at the silk fabric around his throat with theatrical disgust. "Can you believe it? Navy blue with silver stripes to my mother's birthday party." The laughter that rippled through the crowd felt like ice water in my veins. Margaret Griffin, resplendent in her emerald gown and diamond tiara, shook her head with practiced disappointment. "Oh, Harrison," she sighed, loud enough for everyone to hear. "You really must start dressing yourself. Poor dear Cassandra simply doesn't understand these things." My fingers tightened around my champagne flute. The necktie was Hermès, worth more than most people's monthly salary, and it complemented his charcoal suit perfectly.

Billionaire Modern Romance

8.5

Mistress's Costly Affair

8.5

The familiar scent of turpentine and oil paint should have comforted me as I pushed open the door to Adrian's studio. Instead, my stomach twisted into knots as the scene before me registered in my mind. I'd spent the morning preparing his favorite lunch—smoked salmon sandwiches with the crusts removed, just as he liked them—and tucked a pregnancy test into my pocket. After three years of trying, the faint second line had appeared this morning. I wanted to surprise him, to see his face light up with the news we'd waited so long to receive. But the woman draped across Adrian's chaise lounge wasn't me. "Adrian?" My voice sounded small, even to my own ears. He didn't startle. Didn't even pause the sweep of his brush across the canvas. The afternoon light streamed through the skylights, illuminating the scene with a clarity I wished I could escape.

Modern Mystery Romance

8.7

Rejected Luna's Ultimate Vengeance

8.7

The weekend arrived, and with it, the annual pack gathering—a grand event where the Blue Moon Pack showcased its strength and unity. As the Luna of the pack, I was expected to attend, though the tension between Julian, our Alpha, and me had been simmering for weeks. The gathering was held in the grand hall of our pack’s territory, a modern, sprawling building that blended seamlessly with the city around us. The air buzzed with the energy of werewolves mingling, their auras clashing and mingling in a dance of dominance and submission. Julian stood at the center of it all, his broad shoulders and imposing frame commanding attention. His dark eyes scanned the room, lingering on Aleyna Price, his Beta, who stood at his side like a shadow. Aleyna was young, ambitious, and utterly convinced of her own importance. She smirked when she caught my eye, her gaze filled with a challenge I had no intention of backing down from. The auction was the highlight of the evening, a tradition meant to raise funds for the pack’s warriors and healers. The painting up for bidding was a stunning piece, a depiction of a lone wolf howling at the moon, its symbolism impossible to ignore.

Modern Romance Werewolf

Please, Kiss Me, Sir!

Chapter 5

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