Confessions of a Naughty Invisible Man (Vol. 3)

By Veronica Sloan

Something is happening to Dr. Abner Beal. He's spent the last nine years developing a serum to turn soldiers invisible, and now he's finally done it. It was his life's work...but his life isn't over. For the first time in years, Abner's heart is overcome with emotion. He feels strange and vulnerable, and alone. When his wife decides to separate from him, he finds himself torn between two very different women: His seductive co-worker who wants him for his brain, and his daughter's best friend who wants him for his body. What is a naughty invisible man to do?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Veronica Sloan
• Release date: Oct 10, 2016
• ISBN: 9781370061389

Veronica Sloan

Veronica Sloan writes dirty stories and naughty romances. Her erotica is explicit and steamy, and no topic is too taboo. A Chicago girl at heart, Veronica graduated from the Columbia School of Journalism with every intention of writing very important things about very important people. Currently, she spends her days writing about pop culture and her nights writing about lusty men and women and their naughty predilections. She loves big dogs, hot yoga and songs that are stupidly catchy. Visit her at https://www.veronica-sloan-erotica.com/home/.

Book preview

Confessions of a Naughty Invisible Man

Volume 3

© Copyright 2016, Veronica Sloan, All Rights Reserved

NOTICE: This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to your favorite ebook retailer and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

Disclaimer: This story contains explicit content, including graphic descriptions of sexual intercourse. It is intended for adults only. All characters depicted are 18-years-old and older. This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events, is purely coincidental.

Cover designed by Veronica Sloan. Cover Photo © serrnovik.

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Chapter 1

I was at my kitchen table when the sun rose. I hadn't slept, I hadn't eaten. Upstairs, my wife had not so much fallen as plummeted to sleep after our demonic tryst. As for myself, I'd washed (as well as one can when one's fingers and extremities are transparent) and then wandered my home in a daze. I only realized I'd become visible again when I reached for a door and jumped at the strange arm that suddenly crossed my vision.

I put on my robe and waited in the kitchen. Waited for Margaret.

I had no right to be angry, I told myself. Hadn't I made love to my daughter's friend just the other night? And wouldn't I have done the same with Priscilla, had we not been interrupted? Yes. I was not an unduly amorous man, but the serum had given me a lust for power I didn't know I possessed.

Perhaps that was backwards. Perhaps it had given me a power for lust...

I had taken my wife in that lust, ravished her with a passion unknown in our 19 years of marriage. Until that day, our union had been civil, but seldom sweet. I couldn't remember if it had ever been more than that. There was something like love there surely, though nothing like the love we both bore Rebecca. It had been a serviceable relationship at best and somehow I had ignored the fact that I had been a less than serviceable husband all that time.

Ignored? No. I didn't care. I cared about my work above all, and now that the work was complete, the rest of my life was falling in on me, collapsing like a house long since condemned. I felt the weight of it, and it crushed me.

The sweat of her secret lover was still clinging to her brow when I took her. Was he her first affair? The only, or simply the latest in a string of sneaking paramours? All this time I'd thought Margaret prudish and cloistered by her religion. Instead, it had magnified her lust, turned her desire into an obsession. Craving and loathing had been combined.

And how could I blame her? Had I been honest with her? Had I shared with her the triumphs of my experiments? I'd been focused on myself alone. I realized that if I loved Margaret I would forgive her, tell her everything, tell her I wanted to make this work.

But the marriage didn't work. She never cared about my research. Admitting that to myself filled me with both sorrow and relief.

Margaret appeared in the morning light. I expected her to be angry. She didn't look angry. She didn't have any expression at all.

You didn't come home last night, she