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 3
Her home wasn't bad.
It looked normal for a highschool teacher except the furnitures were pretty expensive which made Cephan wonder how she got all that money she gave him.
He sat on a stool in her kitchen while she made coffee.
"Your face looks swollen," she said inspecting his face, his gray eyes stared into her big brown ones trying to figure out what she was thinking.
"I know, got into a fight with some guys," he murmured and made to smile but ended up wincing in pain. Those bastards had done him real bad.
"Wait here."
Abby marched off from the kitchen and returned a few minutes later with a first-aid kit.
"I'll clean it," she said, opening the box and bringing out some cotton. It took about five minutes to be done with his face and while she cleaned they didn't say anything.
Not about the fight.
And definitely not about what happened in the morning.
It was best not to bring that up or so Cephan thought, he had promised not to cross paths with this woman till graduation but here he was, in her house injured.
"Thank you, Miss Abby," he muttered, standing to leave.
"I better head home."
Miss Abby turned to face him as he walked away in thought of where to go.
"You could stay here for the weekend, it's late by the way," she suggested.
Cephan wanted to badly decline, but he hadn't a place to stay.
"Sure, thanks. By the way, won't that coffee run cold?"
Abby entertained him with coffee while they sat in the kitchen envelope in awkward silence. Abby assessed his face, Cephan Miller wasn't a random face she saw one day, it had always been there in Christon high, but why did he look even more sexier than the last time.
She knew how dangerous this was and the consequences that followed, but she wanted to do it.
"The coffee's to your liking? I'm not much of a cook, sorry I didn't get you something edible," she said, breaking the silence.
"It's fine... you got something on your face," he replied blandly.
Abby touched her face searching for the so-called something.
"Where?"
Cephan took a napkin and inched closer to her face, their breath touching. He raised his hands and cleaned the corner of her lips.
For Abby Sean, time stood still. His gray eyes that looked like a dark cloud storm stared at her, his elbow brushed past her nipple sending a wave of undescribed and raw feeling.
What the fuck was her problem?
"You got coffee there. I've been itching to clean that," he said finally allowing the flow of time, but he didn't adjust back to his stool, he gazed at her, his heartbeat going faster than normal. This seemed unusually strange and needed to be stopped.
No, he wanted to see what would happen next. He liked things like this.
Abby sighed, rolling her eyes like a thirteen year old teenage girl who just started rebelling against her mother.
"You're so good at being blunt, huh?" She asked her breath brushing his skin, it tickled.
"Maybe, it always gets me in trouble, but it seems like it doesn't do that with you."
Cephan smirked. He shouldn't be doing that with his teacher, his breath quickened by just looking at her which he could describe as strange.
He had encountered Miss Abby Sean a lot of times and she even sent him to detention twice, but why did he so badly want to feel what he felt that morning with her.
"Can I request something then and be blunt about it?" He asked gulping hard.
She nodded, telling him to keep talking.
"Let's kiss... can we?"
Abby looked stunned for a while but realized this was Cephan, a basketball player who wanted to go pro, someone who girls drooled over and someone who got involved in something shady that made him bet on her.
She should be angry that they placed a bet on her. She was meant to slap him across the face and tell him off, but no, she wanted to kiss him... to do a lot more than kissing with him.
"Since you're not speaking, I'll take it that you want it," he muttered and inched close to her so that their noses touched.
Cephan placed his lips on hers, sliding his tongue into her mouth. He savoured every bit of her as their tongues danced in their mouths.
He reminded himself to stop there, but he didn't.
He moved on.
Cephan found his fingers trailing up to her breast. He noticed earlier on that she was bare breast when his elbow brushed her nipple.
"We shouldn't do this, should we?"
He had thought of the possibility of anyone finding out. They could do it and stay safe as long as no one found out.
"Who's going to find out?" he smirked.
Cephan picked her up, his hand squeezing at her butt. She wrapped her arms against his neck as they kissed.
Taking her to a room, he lay her down on the bed and unbuckled his belt.
"You're a really smart kid," she said, helping him with his belt.
"Does it matter if I'm smart or dumb here?" He retorted, finally removing it.
He motioned for her to come, and she obeyed standing before him naked. Her nipples stood begging for him to have her.
Cephan brushed his fingers against her nipples, it sent shivers of pleasure down to his toes. He kissed her neck slowly sinking his teeth into her skin. She let out a gasp clutching his hair.
"You smell like pineapple, I could eat you up whole, Miss Abby," he whispered, kissing her down to her tits. He stuck his tongue out and played with her nipples.
He felt his muscles tensed, and his dick hardened.
What was this lady doing to him, she probably was way older than him although she looked rather young.
He didn't care anyway.
"I'll make sure you scream with every passing second... 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?"