C.J

2 Published Stories

C.J's Books and Stories

The Water Girl

The Water Girl

3.5

Damn water, girl.! Shouldn’t you just stick to the salad you have in your hands? You keep eating unhealthy foods like pizza. You’re going to get too big to run and fetch me my water.” “Thanks for your concern, Arron, but it’s unwanted and needed because all I’m eating today is my salad.” “You do not have to explain anything to that douche bag,” Sydney hisses at me. “I was being sarcastic, Syd.” Sydney rolls her eyes at Arron, then leads us over to our table. Luckily, I made it to my table without a hitch. Normally, I end up with most of my food on me before I get to my table. “Are you okay Riv? “Sydney asks me once we get sat down. “Yes, I’m used to it by now.” “Wow, River Rock just walked in.” My skin instantly heats at that name. Rock (James Martinez) is not only the hottest guy at school. He is the quarterback and captain, and my biggest hater at Scotts high. To make matters worse, his mom is dating my dad. “Hey water girl, go get me some food.” Rock says, coming over and sitting down at our table like he owns it. “Fuck off Rock.” Sydney says, then gets up and positions herself in between us. I guess she thinks that’s going to stop him from harassing me. I go to get up and get him food so he will leave me alone, but my friend is not having that. “Sit your ass down.” Sydney growls. “Just let me do this Syd so I might eat in peace today.” “You’re going to eat in peace, anyway. I will make sure of it,” Sydney says between clenched teeth. She really doesn’t know what she starts when she does this. Surprising, Rock gets up and walks over to get his own food, then goes and sits with his girlfriend and the other football players. I get to eat my food in peace for the rest of the lunch hour. Once the bell rings, Sydney and I head to our next class. We make it through our last couple classes and then it’s time to go out on the football field to make sure the team has plenty of water. I wonder if I could get away with putting some laxative tablets in their waters see how good they practice having to run to the bathroom every 5 minutes. “Yo water girl, get your ass over here with the damn waters,” Damion, the linebacker, yells at me. Making me jump out of my daydream. You know I’m not the only water girl out here, but I’m the only one that gets picked on. I really don’t understand what I have done to make them target me. Unlike Tiffany, who's dry humping Rock's leg while giving him water, I'm quiet and keep to myself. Walking towards the table, I put some more water glasses down on it. Then I walk over to the guys that are standing around waiting to get on the field to see if they want any water. “It’s about damn time, water girl.” Most of the guys say, but there are some. The freshmen thanked me. But that will soon change once they hear what the other guys call me and the way they treat me, then they will start doing the same. Once that set of guy’s head on the field, the ones that were on the field head off it, so I do the same thing for them. I walk up to them and pour water into the mouths of the ones that want water and get shoved to the side by the ones that don’t want water. God, I really don’t know why I am doing this… I really hate football. But it's either this or having to hear my dad complain about me not doing anything. By the end of practice I have everything packed up, and ready to head to the locker room when Rock and his friend Damion walk up behind me, pushing me so hard I fall and the bottles in my hands go flying around the field. “Oh, damn water girl, I didn’t see you standing there.” Rock says, then bends down to help me up to my feet, but I slap his hand away. “Now, now, River, is that anyway to treat your sum to be stepbrother?” Rock chuckles. God, I hope not. “My dad will never marry your mother. He loved my mother too much.” I spit at him and he sees red. Rock lifts me up off the ground by my shirt, hauling me into his body. “You listen to me, you little bitch.” “James Martinez, put River down right now.” Coach barks at him and Rock chunks me to the ground and I land on my butt hard. Once everyone heads to the locker room, I get up and start gathering the bottles that went flying a minute ago back up and put them back in the bags. Coach must have stayed behind because he helped me with the bottles. “You know, Ms. Darby, you really shouldn’t let them boys treat you that way.” I know I shouldn’t, but I really don’t have any choice. “Thanks coach I say.” Once he helps me up and gives me the bags to carry to the locker room. “River, I’ve known your dad for a long time, and I don’t think he would be too happy to know how bad things are for you at school.” “No offense, coach, but you must not know my dad as well as you think you do, because my father couldn’t care less.” I walk on into the locker room without another word.

Saving Corky

Saving Corky

5.0

I started out on the streets when I was 16 years old — when my parents walked in my room one night and found me in bed with one of my dad's business partners. My parents didn't care that a man came into my room and touched me inappropriately during their party. They were more concerned about their reputation. "A well-respected business executive" like my father couldn't have a whoring daughter like me, bringing his name to shame, so I had to go. And it didn't matter that I had nowhere to go. So, now at 22, I find myself a prostitute with a bad-tempered pimp, and a drug problem. I stay high on anything I can get my hands on just, so I don't have to feel the nasty shit the Johns are doing to me or be sound of mind when I'm blowing them off. I'm in my tiny ass apartment right now getting ready to head out to my corner for the night and get me a John or two.... try to make me some money for the night. I have rent due in a day are two, so as I'm getting ready, I snort me I line of coke and fuck that shit good. I look at myself in the mirror one last time... make sure I don't have any white shit on my nose, are anywhere else, then I head out to the corner. "Hey Layla, any new business tonight?" I ask the lady and my best friend that stands on the same corner as me. "Hey Corky girl. No, it's been kind of quiet tonight, but the night is still young girly... and you're looking fire tonight, so I'm sure you will get a few hits." "I hope so, Layla. I have rent this week, and you know how Martin is about us being late for our rent." "Yes, well, Martin should take the cut we give him after every night as our rent money." Layla spits out. "Watch what you say, Layla. He has ears everywhere." I tell her and sway a little on my feet. "Corky damnit girl, you really need to lie off that shit," Layla shays at me. "Only if I could find another way not to feel I would, Layla." "Corky girl, why won't you get your GED? Carry your ass to college... and get the hell out of New York, away from this shit." Layla says for the 100th time. She tells me the same shit every night. She has since I was 18, and first started prostituting for Martin, our sleaze-bag pimp. I'm smart enough I could get my GED, and get into a community college, and make something of myself, but would Martin let me go? I'm one of his highest paid prostitutes. "Corky, look alive, baby girl. Here comes some action, Layla says," breaking me out of my daydream. "Oh, joy!" Here we go. "Hey there, handsome... what'll be tonight?" I say, leaning into the passenger window. It's a nice-looking older gentleman in his mid-40's not someone you would think you would see picking up a prostitute for an hour. "I would like to rent you for the hour." "Rent me?" This guy has done nothing like this in his life. Poor fucking sap. "Um, sweetheart, you don't rent us. You buy us for as long as you need us. We do whatever you want in that time frame and the price starts at $50 dollars and goes up from there, I tell him." "That's doable he tells me." Then he just sets there for a minute like he's not too sure what to do about the information I just gave him. "Okay sweetheart, if you want to do this, then I have to get into your car. Then we will go to a motel or somewhere and that's where the real fun will begin," I tell him. "Oh, yes, right, sure? Um, get in and then we can figure out where we will go for the night," he tells me, so I open the passenger door and climb in." Your first time I ask him?" "That obvious, huh?" "Yes," I smile at him, "but that's okay. So, what are you looking for tonight?" I ask him, then I kind of glance around his car and find a damn car seat in the back seat of his car. Really, man? "So, you and your wife just had a baby, huh?" "Oh, um, I'd rather not talk about that, if you don't mind."

You might like

HIS DOE, HIS DAMNATION(An Erotic Billionaire Romance)

HIS DOE, HIS DAMNATION(An Erotic Billionaire Romance)

4.9

Trigger/Content Warning: This story contains mature themes and explicit content intended for adult audiences(18+). Reader discretion is advised. It includes elements such as BDSM dynamics, explicit sexual content, toxic family relationships, occasional violence and strong language. This is not a fluffy romance. It is intense, raw and messy, and explores the darker side of desire. ***** "Take off your dress, Meadow." "Why?" "Because your ex is watching," he said, leaning back into his seat. "And I want him to see what he lost." ••••*••••*••••* Meadow Russell was supposed to get married to the love of her life in Vegas. Instead, she walked in on her twin sister riding her fiance. One drink at the bar turned to ten. One drunken mistake turned into reality. And one stranger's offer turned into a contract that she signed with shaking hands and a diamond ring. Alaric Ashford is the devil in a tailored Tom Ford suit. Billionaire CEO, brutal, possessive. A man born into an empire of blood and steel. He also suffers from a neurological condition-he can't feel. Not objects, not pain, not even human touch. Until Meadow touches him, and he feels everything. And now he owns her. On paper and in his bed. She wants him to ruin her. Take what no one else could have. He wants control, obedience... revenge. But what starts as a transaction slowly turns into something Meadow never saw coming. Obsession, secrets that were never meant to surface, and a pain from the past that threatens to break everything. Alaric doesn't share what's his. Not his company. Not his wife. And definitely not his vengeance.

His Twisted Game, My Dangerous Love

His Twisted Game, My Dangerous Love

4.5

Vesper's marriage to Julian Sterling was a gilded cage. One morning, she woke naked beside Damon Sterling, Julian's terrifying brother, then found a text: Julian's mistress was pregnant. Her world shattered, but the real nightmare had just begun. Julian's abuse escalated, gaslighting Vesper, funding his secret life. Damon, a germaphobic billionaire, became her unsettling anchor amidst his chaos. As "Iris," Vesper exposed Julian's mistress, Serena Sharp, sparking brutal war: poisoned drinks, a broken leg, and the horrifying truth-Julian murdered her parents, trapping Vesper in marriage. The man she married was a killer. Broken and betrayed, Vesper was caught between monstrous brothers, burning with injustice. Refusing victimhood, Vesper reclaimed her identity. Fueled by vengeance, she allied with Damon, who vowed to burn his empire for her. Julian faced justice, but matriarch Eleanor's counterattack forced Vesper's choice as a hitman aimed for her.

The Billionaire's Cruelty, My Secret Daughter

The Billionaire's Cruelty, My Secret Daughter

5.0

The thunder cracked over the Hamptons, but it was nothing compared to Elena Sharp's scream. She lay twisted on the marble foyer, accusing me of trying to kill her baby. My husband, Julian, walked in, saw the scene, and his eyes froze me out of his life forever. He didn't listen, shoving a separation agreement across the desk, accusing me of murder. Stripped of my name and home, I was thrown out, left with nothing but my clothes and a terrifying secret growing inside me. My accounts frozen, I ended up in a crumbling Philadelphia row house, forced to pawn heirlooms. During a fire, my water broke, and I delivered our premature daughter, June, whose lungs were damaged. I stole formula to feed her, facing massive medical bills. Accused of destroying an heir, I was exiled while carrying his true legacy, fighting for every breath. The injustice burned, but June's life was my only fight. Three years later, June needed life-saving surgery. Julian's dying grandmother called me back with the funds, forcing a cruel charade with the man who hated me, a man still oblivious to his daughter.

Pregnant and Divorced: I Hid His Heir

Pregnant and Divorced: I Hid His Heir

5.0

Vivian clutched her Hermès bag, her doctor's words echoing: "Extremely high-risk pregnancy." She hoped the baby would save her cold marriage, but Julian wasn't in London as his schedule claimed. Instead, a paparazzi photo revealed his early return-with a blonde woman, not his wife, at the private airport exit. The next morning, Julian served divorce papers, callously ending their "duty" marriage for his ex, Serena. A horrifying contract clause gave him the right to terminate her pregnancy or seize their child. Humiliated, demoted, and forced to fake an ulcer, Vivian watched him parade his affair, openly discarding her while celebrating Serena. This was a calculated erasure, not heartbreak. He cared only for his image, confirming he would "handle" the baby himself. A primal rage ignited her. "Just us," she whispered to her stomach, vowing to sign the divorce on her terms, keep her secret safe, and walk away from Sterling Corp for good, ready to protect her child alone.

My Crippled Husband Is a Secret Billionaire

My Crippled Husband Is a Secret Billionaire

5.0

The silence in St. Patrick's Cathedral wasn't peaceful; it was a physical weight on Stella's shoulders, heavier than her wedding dress. She stood alone at the altar, ready for her perfect life, when her phone vibrated with a text that shattered everything. Her fiancé, Bryce, messaged just moments before the vows: "I can't do this. Monica needs me. I'm sorry." Monica, her maid of honor, was the reason he fled. Bryce's mother then publicly shamed Stella, implying her career ambition drove him away. The betrayal of her sacrifices, her future, and her dignity ignited a white-hot rage. Stella ripped off her veil, grabbed the microphone, and exposed the groom and maid of honor's affair to the stunned guests before storming out. A furious wreck in her ruined gown, she stumbled on the cathedral steps, meeting Julian Sterling, the "Cursed Son" in a wheelchair. He offered no pity, only a detached assessment. In a defiant, adrenaline-fueled moment, Stella crouched and asked, "Are you single?" Julian, needing a strategic alliance against his family, agreed to a cold, transactional marriage of convenience. With the City Clerk's office hours ticking down, Stella tore her dress, determined to forge a new path of vengeance and desperate necessity.

After Betrayal, She Claimed Her Empire

After Betrayal, She Claimed Her Empire

5.0

Serena Vance, an unloved wife, clutched a custom-made red velvet cake to her chest, enduring the cold rain outside an exclusive Upper East Side club. She hoped this small gesture for her husband, Julian, would bridge the growing chasm between them on their third anniversary. But as she neared the VIP suite, her world shattered. Julian's cold, detached voice sliced through the laughter, revealing he considered her nothing more than a "signature on a piece of paper" for a trust fund, mocking her changed appearance and respecting only another woman, Elena. The indifference in his tone was a physical blow, a brutal severance, not heartbreak. She gently placed the forgotten cake on the floor, leaving her wedding ring and a diamond necklace as she prepared to abandon a marriage built on lies. Her old life, once a prison of quiet suffering and constant humiliation, now lay in ruins around her. Three years of trying to be seen, to be loved, were erased by a few cruel words. Why had she clung to a man who saw her as a clause in a will, a "creature," not a wife? The shame and rage hardened her heart, freezing her tears. Returning to an empty penthouse, she packed a single battered suitcase, leaving behind every symbol of her failed marriage. With a burner phone, she dialed a number she hadn't touched in a decade, whispering, "Godfather, I'm ready to come home."

The 100-Point Divorce Plan

The 100-Point Divorce Plan

4.6

For three years, I documented the slow death of my marriage in a black journal. It was my 100-point divorce plan: for every time my husband, Blake, chose his first love, Ariana, over me, I deducted points. When the score hit zero, I would leave. The final points vanished the night he left me bleeding out from a car crash. I was eight weeks pregnant with the child we had prayed for. In the ER, the nurses frantically called him-the star surgeon of the very hospital I was dying in. "Dr. Santos, we have a Jane Doe, O-negative, bleeding out. She's pregnant, and we're about to lose them both. We need you to authorize an emergency blood transfer." His voice came over the speaker, cold and impatient. "I can't. My priority is Miss Whitfield. Do what you can for the patient, but I can't divert anything right now." He hung up. He condemned his own child to death to ensure his ex-girlfriend had resources on standby after a minor procedure.

Abandoned Wife, Billionaire Revenge

Abandoned Wife, Billionaire Revenge

5.0

My husband promised me forever, but gave me endless lies. On our anniversary, I found his secrets on social media, exposed by his mistress. He didn't just break my heart; he broke my entire world. Seraphina sat alone in her opulent mansion, preparing their anniversary dinner, feeling the suffocating weight of her cold, hollow marriage. An Instagram post from Tiffany Sloan then brazenly revealed Harrison's hand at a romantic dinner, shattering his flimsy excuses and exposing his blatant infidelity. The betrayal turned Seraphina's despair into cold resolve. He gaslighted her, dismissed her pain, and reminded her she was "nothing." He chose his mistress over her dying brother, caused her to break an ankle, and finally abandoned her on a desolate street corner, stripped of dignity. How could she have sacrificed her entire violin career for a man who so casually discarded her? Under that bridge, her foolish love died, leaving only a fierce desire for reclamation. Shivering and alone, a faded flyer for a violin teacher caught her eye. It was a defiant whisper of her old self, a promise: Seraphina Vanderbilt was gone, and a new Seraphina was finally free.

I Was His Wife, Now I'm His Ruin

I Was His Wife, Now I'm His Ruin

5.0

Sera stood at the altar, ready to renew vows with Lucas Sterling, a public declaration of their solid marriage. But in that holy silence, Lucas answered his phone, his voice booming, "Naomi? I'm coming." He then turned, eyes cold, declaring, "It's over," abandoning her mid-ceremony. The crowd gasped. His family humiliated her, calling her "trash." He then cut off all her money, stranding her in a downpour. The cruelest blow: his sister revealed Lucas had gossiped about Sera's deepest trauma-a past kidnapping-mocking her belief he was her savior. This betrayal shattered Sera's loyalty, replacing pain with cold rage. How could he expose that secret? And why did powerful Julian Thorne appear, whispering, "I've known who you are for a long time," as if privy to her past? With her last attachment severed, Sera pulled out her encrypted phone. Her voice chilling, she commanded, "Target Sterling Supply Chain. Initiate Phase One: Disruption." Her counterattack had begun.

I Signed the Divorce, He Lost Everything

I Signed the Divorce, He Lost Everything

5.0

My wealthy husband, Nathaniel, stormed in, demanding a divorce to be with his "dying" first love, Julia. He expected tears, pleas, even hysteria. Instead, I calmly reached for a pen, ready to sign away our life for a fortune. For two years, I played the devoted wife in our sterile penthouse. That night, Nathaniel shattered the facade, tossing divorce papers. "Julia's back," he stated, "she needs me." He expected me to crumble. But my calm "Okay" shocked him. I coolly demanded his penthouse, shares, and a doubled stipend, letting him believe I was a greedy gold digger. He watched, disgusted, convinced I was a monster. He couldn't fathom my indifference or ruthless demands. He saw avarice, not a carefully constructed facade. His betrayal had awakened something far more dangerous. The second the door closed, the dutiful wife vanished. I retrieved a burner phone and a Glock, ready to expose the elaborate lie he and Julia had built.