Our paths crossed at the office six months ago, when Lori started working there. I held a more senior position as an editor, while she initially started as an assistant editor. It appeared that she regularly joined the meetings I organized, diligently documenting the discussions. She would sit by herself at the other end of the conference table. My name is Mac, and I am forty-five and have been married to my beautiful wif...

1. I had to keep reminding myself that I was Lady Mildrith Rhys of Capel-le-Ferne, heiress to one of the most strategic fiefs in England. And I was married to Burke Hollis, eldest son and heir of Ealdorman Walter Hollis of Tunbridge, one of the richest English nobles, a close advisor to the king. But just a few hours after my unconsummated marriage, Danish longships had been sighted from my ancient seat of Hill Fort in Ne...

Nikola (Nick) Vukovic had finally had enough. True, he had been drinking, but she was the one that drove him to the bottle. That fucking slut, Aleza. She was visiting Nick and his wife, Kata, from her home in the Balkans, along with Nick’s father-in-law. She was Kata’s sister. And she was insulting. The Vukovic family had an easygoing attitude towards family sex. Sex between family members was common. This was a culture t...

My husband, Hossain, grew very concerned as my due date approached. It was a big baby and I felt like a whale. I was very uncomfortable and had to pee every few minutes. I called in and began my maternity leave. St. James called me a day later. “I’ve shortlisted the candidates to take over as the new CEO of the Foncault Group,” he said. “I’ll send the resumes to you. Can you attend the interviews?” “I may go into labor at...

Rick Lovett had no inkling, on arriving at Eastleigh Manor, of how comprehensively his marriage vows would be tested that night. How could he? His wife had accompanied him to the Christmas festivity, and even had she not been by his side, the moments he’d been tempted to stray since their wedding, some six years prior, numbered a paltry handful. Granted such itches tended to crave scratching in December. There was somethi...

Dan stared at the ceiling of the camper van. He figured he must have been awake for at least two hours. The hot and humid night didn’t help, but he mainly couldn’t sleep because his brain wouldn't shut off. He couldn't stop thinking about his failed marriage, the what ifs and what could have been of the past, and the feeling of heaviness pulling him down. Dan turned to his side. The woman next to him, Lyse, looked to be f...

I am a writer. Acuario is a tattoo artist. I am American. He is Mexican. We have an interesting relationship. Two creative personalities. Two very different cultures. If he pisses me off. I don’t yell. I don’t throw things. I challenge his authority. In front of his friends. This both angers and excites him. If I piss him off, he doesn’t talk. He fucks me. But he makes me wait. This both frustrates me and keeps me wanting...

“Alan? Are you here?” I closed the door behind me and dropped my keys into the singing bowl by the door. His car wasn’t in the driveway, but him not being home was odd enough that I couldn’t resist the impulse to call out again. “Alan?” Nothing. I kicked off my shoes and headed for his office. I knocked twice as I pushed the door open, only to find it dark and empty, the usually everglow PC cold and quiet on his desk. I c...