THE DARE: hit on my highschool teacher
Few weeks until graduation everything should go smoothly. That's what Cephan Miller thought until he was dared to sleep with his highschool teacher, Miss Abby Sean, the beautiful but reserved teacher who was always on her own.
He did have sex with her, but from then onwards, he wanted to keep doing it.
He knew it was dangerous, but kept on with it.
Rated 18+
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Chapter 2
"It's late, you should head home."
Cephan gave a slight nod to his older colleague, handing a glass of raw gun to a customer.
"Yeah, it's late," he muttered and turned to leave.
The day had already passed so fast, just this morning, Cephan Miller was having it wild with his teacher. He sighed, glancing at his phone to check the time.
10:00 pm.
He followed the long route half praying that his father was out cold on the floor because if he wasn't...
No. He didn't want to think about the outcome.
Mr Miller, cephan's father, wasn't always like that. He was that vibrant, kind and gentle man every woman dreamt of, but after cancer took his wife, he changed.
Mr Miller drank, gambled and soon sought to abuse.
Cephan sighed. He was used to it already.
Reaching home, he turned the knob subconsciously holding his breath.
"You're late," someone said and all his built up hope came crashing down.
"Work," he muttered, bracing himself for what came next.
"Money? I need money!" He demanded trying to stand.
The stench of alcohol filled the house making Cephan wrinkle his nose in disgust.
He was drunk again.
"I told you I don't have money," he spoke up shutting the door behind him.
Broken glass decorated the floor and he was careful not to step on any.
"What do you mean you have no money?!" Mr Miller screamed, taking a glass and throwing it at Cephan.
He ducked, shielding his head with his hands.
Pathetic.
He wasn't going to put up with this old man he called his father.
"If you want money, then go make yours!" He screamed, flinging the door open and slamming it shut.
As soon as he slammed the door, a bottle smashed behind it.
"Now I have to look for where to sleep," he muttered walking away from what he called his home.
Cephan decided to go to the park and stay for sometime before heading back home. The park was safer than home.
Just then, his phone rang. He glanced at it and the name on the screen made him grunt.
Another pest.
He answered the call already knowing what the bastard wanted.
"Did you do it?"
"I have the money, come to the park," he said, hanging up before the bastard said any other thing.
A few minutes later, some guys came to the park, a cigar in their hands.
"Want a smoke, old man?" One of them whom they called Dav asked.
"Nah, I'm good," Cephan declined, searching his bag for the money.
He assessed the boys, Dav, a Blondie with a foreign accent and a sleep build that made girls trip - he was gay.
Chuck, the nineteen year old guy that looked like a golden retriever.
Mason, dark haired Italian with eyes so intense you might think he wanted to kill you. The youngest amongst them was seventeen, Christian Waner.
"Yooo, someone's a Mama's boy," Christian cackled, puffing out smoke.
"My Mama's dead, and you're too young to smoke," Cephan retorted, handing the money to Dav.
"You didn't make a move on her? How did you get the money?" Chuck asked, throwing his cigar on the ground and stepping on it.
Cephan shrugged standing to leave, he tucked his hands into his jacket and made to walk away.
"Chill bro, where are you going? How did you get the money, eh?" Dav asked.
Their presence was beginning to irritate Cephan so he said nothing, bumping past Mason.
Mason pulled him back, giving him a hard punch on the jaw and that set them off.
Cephan stumbled to the ground and they began kicking him, but little did they do he could take them all.
They knew.
He dragged Christian's feet pulling his trousers and standing to his feet. Punching Dav in the nose, he elbowed the fucking golden retriever, Chuck.
They groaned but didn't give up.
"Mother fucker!" Dav cursed lunging at him.
Cephan planted his knee to his stomach making him cough up dark blood.
"You guys don't know when to stop, really," he gritted his teeth waiting for them to attack.
Mason came at him and threw a few punches, but he dodged although one landed at his chin.
He fisted the young boy's throat making him scream in pain.
"Your mother didn't teach you when to give up, did she?" He asked ironically, banging Christian's head on a pole.
They groaned in pain, cursing and hissing.
Cephan noticed Dav picked his phone to call some people, and he knew immediately that it was time to run.
He was probably calling his other guys and he was too weak to take all of them at once so he did what he knew was best.
He ran.
He ran past the line of streetlights. Ran past the masked lady who was probably stealing from a store.
He ran into an alley holding his breath as he sped.
This was the moment he wished he had a home to go to - he did but that place couldn't be described as a home.
He needed peace and quiet.
The alley was dark and although he knew they couldn't catch him he kept on, sweat pouring from his face.
"Fuck, I need a shower," he said, his shirt sticking to his skin.
Just as he left the alley, he cornered to a street, this time slowing his pace. He jogged but not too slow.
His stomach rumbled and he knew he had to eat something if he wanted to gather strength to run again.
Lost in thoughts, he didn't see the lady coming towards him.
Cephan hit her, making her fall to the floor.
He stopped and stared at her.
"I'm so sorry ma'am, are you okay? Is your nose broken?" He asked concerned about the impact of the collision.
"I'm fine," the lady said, lifting her head to look at him.
Time froze and the memories of the morning flooded again.
The way she moaned when he thrusted his fingers into her, the way she squirted all over him... .
"Miss Abby?"
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7.0
Sophia Hayes has perfected the art of control. In the high-pressure world of The Metropolitan, she's the youngest senior journalist ever hired-an achievement built on ruthless discipline, flawless execution, and a reputation that makes even seasoned reporters double-check their facts before speaking to her. She is sharp. Unshakeable. Precise to the bone. Her life runs on deadlines, color-coded calendars, and emotional walls tall enough to withstand anything.
Dean Mercer is everything she isn't-and everything she doesn't have time for. A wildly successful illustrator whose comic series Love Is a Mess has a cult following online, Dean lives in a world where structure is optional and inspiration is everything. His apartment is chaos. His sleep schedule is chaos. His heart is chaos. He creates brilliance in messy strokes but hides his deepest truths behind humor, charm, and a smile that masks more wounds than he lets on.
So when the magazine pairs them for a high-stakes project-a revolutionary feature blending investigative journalism with illustrated storytelling-everyone expects disaster. Sophia expects worse.
Their assignment: explore modern love through real stories across the city. Raw, unfiltered, unpredictable love.
Exactly the kind of assignment that makes Sophia want to run.
Dean arrives late to their first meeting with coffee stains and excuses. Sophia arrives with a binder thick enough to double as a weapon. Dean studies her timeline like it's written in a foreign language. Sophia studies Dean like he's a problem she needs to solve before he derails everything she's built.
Their partnership begins in sparks-sharp, heated, dangerous sparks.
Arguments disguised as discussions.
Discussions disguised as power struggles.
Power struggles disguised as creative differences.
But tension has a habit of twisting into something else when the nights grow long.
As they dive into the city-interviewing strangers whose love stories survived decades, storms, heartbreaks, second chances-something shifts between them. Slowly. Quietly. Against both of their wills.
Sophia begins to see past Dean's easy humor to the man underneath-the one who fears failing the people he cares about, who draws comics because it's the only way he knows how to tell the truth. And Dean sees the cracks in Sophia's armor-the vulnerability she protects like a secret, the softness she doesn't show, the fire in her that the world misunderstands as coldness.
Their conversations deepen. Their arguments soften. Their laughter blends.
And the chemistry-the kind they both pretend not to notice-tightens around them like an invisible thread.
But the closer they get, the heavier the air becomes. Because both of them are hiding something.
Sophia hides her fear of losing control.
Dean hides his fear of being the reason someone gets hurt.
And the feature they're creating-meant to uncover the truth about modern love-begins exposing truths they never meant to reveal. About each other. About themselves.
Their late-night work sessions grow intimate, electric. Their stories blur with the stories they're collecting. Dean sketches Sophia without meaning to-capturing expressions she never lets the world see. Sophia writes notes about him she can't bring herself to delete. Something real starts forming in the space between them, fragile but undeniable.
Until the past they both buried finds them.
A mistake from Dean's life-one he thought he'd left behind-reaches the editorial floor at the worst possible time. A detail with enough weight to derail the feature, shatter their progress, and wound the one person who finally saw him clearly.
Sophia's instinct is survival. Run before she gets hurt. Seal her heart before it cracks open. Dean's instinct is retreat. Protect her from the version of himself he fears is still true.
Deadlines tighten. Trust fractures.
Their work stalls, their communication splinters, and the connection they've been dancing around threatens to snap under the strain.
But desire doesn't listen to logic.
And hearts don't obey deadlines.
Even as they pull away, they keep orbiting each other-drawn back together by an ache neither can extinguish. Their arguments deepen into something rawer, heavier. Their silence holds more meaning than their words.
They must choose:
fight for the story that could define their careers...
or fight for the connection that could rewrite their futures.
And when an unexpected message, a truth revealed too late, and one irreversible decision collide, they're forced to confront the question their feature was meant to answer:
What does love look like today-
and can two people living at opposite rhythms find it before it slips through their fingers?
On the edge of losing their partnership...
their second chance...
and each other...
8.4
I worked three double shifts at the garage just to buy a velvet-boxed cake for my wealthy girlfriend, Arleen.
But when I pushed open the VIP room door, I saw her lover kissing her bare leg.
She didn't push him away. Instead, she laughed and swirled her martini.
"I only forgot Finn because I knew he would stay. He is a poor boy from Queens who follows me around like a loyal dog."
Later that night, her lover intentionally crashed a Porsche to scare me, sending a piece of jagged metal into my skull.
Lying in a growing pool of my own blood, I watched Arleen crawl out of the wreckage.
She didn't even look at me. She threw herself at her uninjured lover, screaming for a medic.
"He just got scraped by a piece of plastic. He is faking it. Deal with Jaquez first!"
When I woke up, I wasn't free. Arleen had locked me in a private hospital wing with 24-hour security, planning to isolate me and keep me as her broken, captive toy forever.
My blind, pathetic devotion finally froze into absolute disgust.
I looked at the heart monitor next to my bed and grabbed an IV needle.
I severed the sensor wire to trigger a flatline, slipped out the fire stairs while the nurses panicked, and burned my identity to ashes.
This time, I was going to disappear to London, build my own empire, and watch hers burn.
9.0
I was a top patent lawyer until my husband and his lover framed me, destroyed my career, and sent me to prison. For seven years after, I was presumed dead, living as a ghost in a warehouse.
Then, they found me. My ex-husband, Edgar, and our son, Kody, showed up, shocked to see me alive.
They lured me to Kody' s 18th birthday party, but it was a lie. The party was a surprise engagement celebration for Edgar and Celena, the very woman who ruined my life.
In front of everyone, Edgar told me to "let go."
My own son even begged me.
"Mom, please," he cried. "Just say you're sorry."
Sorry? For what? For surviving the car crash they orchestrated to kill me?
I looked at the boy I once loved more than life itself. In the sudden silence of the ballroom, I smiled and asked, "Kody, do you remember the night Celena asked you to slash my tires?"
7.8
My parents spent eighteen years grooming me for one singular purpose: to be the mate of Jax Little, the future Alpha.
We grew up together, promising a hundred times that we would rule the Silver Moon Pack side by side.
But on the night of the Recognition Ritual, because my inner wolf was silent and I hadn't shifted yet, everything shattered.
Jax stood before the entire pack, looked at Catalina—a stranger in red silk—and then looked at me with cold, steel-gray eyes.
"I, Jax Little, reject you, Eliana Carter."
He didn't just break our bond; he let his new Luna destroy me.
When Catalina shoved me into a pool, he saved her instead of me.
When she framed me for an attack, causing me to fall onto deadly silver that seared my flesh like acid, he stepped over my convulsing body to comfort her fake tears.
He left me dying on the floor to soothe the woman who had tried to kill me.
I realized then that the boy who promised to protect me was dead. He prioritized ambition over love, treating me like a broken defect to be discarded.
I survived the silver, but I killed the girl who loved him.
I packed my bags and ran to New York City, believing I was wolfless and alone.
I didn't know that I wasn't a defect—I was a rare White Wolf waiting to wake up.
And I certainly didn't expect the most powerful Alpha on the East Coast to be waiting in the shadows, ready to burn the world down for me.
9.7
She came to kill him.
He made her his queen.
Valeria Romano spent five years with one purpose ... destroy Lorenzo De Luca, the mafia king who murdered her father. She trained in silence, sacrificed everything, and finally had him in her crosshairs on a cold Sicilian night.
Then he showed her the truth.
Her father's killer was never Lorenzo.
It was the man who held her at the funeral. The man she called every week for five years. The man who handed her the wrong name and watched her walk toward the wrong target while he rebuilt his empire on her father's grave.
Her uncle Marco.
Now Valeria is bound to the enemy she came to destroy ... in a contract marriage she didn't choose, inside a world she doesn't yet understand, hunting a man who has been ten steps ahead of everyone for twenty years.
But Marco has never faced a woman who has nothing left to lose.
As the truth unravels and the bodies pile up and the line between hatred and something far more dangerous begins to blur ... Valeria must decide who she is willing to become to protect the people she loves.
Because in Lorenzo De Luca's world, power is everything.
And she is about to become the most powerful thing in it.
Some wars are fought with guns. The deadliest ones are fought from the inside.
9.1
The best way to get back at a cheating bastard? Make him sick to his stomach for the rest of his life!
Days before her wedding, Corinne caught her fiancé cheating with his coworker in what she thought was their future home.
Furious, she tore everything apart, ended the engagement, and decided on a bold revenge plan.
To make him regret it for life, she set her sights on marrying his powerful uncle. Confident in her scheme, she tried to win over the cold, untouchable man, only to realize too late that she had mistaken his identity.
The man she married was far more dangerous than she imagined!
Corinne decided to make a quick escape. "Let's get a divorce. We're clearly not right for each other... "
He cornered her with a knowing smile, "Not right for each other? Funny, that's not what you said last night in bed. Want me to remind you how wrong you are?"