Novels by Pearl's pen

Marcus's POV Sunlight sliced through the half-closed blinds like it had a personal vendetta.I woke up hard, aching, with Elena’s naked back pressed against my chest and her ass nestled perfectly against my cock like it belonged there.Well, it did.Last night replayed in fragments—her moans, the way she begged, the taste of her on my tongue, the way she clenched around me when she came, the way her hips jerked up.I buried my face in her hair and inhaled. She stirred, and made a soft sleepy sound that went straight to my dick.My arm tightened around her waist instinctively. One hand slid up to cup her breast, my thumb brushing lazily over her nipple. It hardened instantly.“Mmm…” She arched back into me, half-asleep.I pressed a kiss to the nape of her neck. “Morning, princess.”She froze for half a second—like reality was just crashing back in. Then she turned her head just enough that I could see the corner of her mouth curve.“Morning,” she whispered, voice

Elana's POV I was shaking. Not from cold, but from the way Marcus was looking at me, like I was something he’d finally decided to devour after months of restraint.My wrists were still pinned above my head in one of his big hands, the other braced beside my face, caging me against the mattress. His weight pressed me down just enough that I could feel every hard inch of him through his jeans, grinding slow, deliberate circles against my bare, still-throbbing core.I was soaked, dripping, embarrassingly wet. And he knew it.“So bad I’m begging,” I’d just whispered, and the way his eyes darkened at the words made my stomach flip.He didn’t kiss me again, instead he released my wrists and sat back on his heels between my spread thighs, staring down at me like he was memorizing every inch.My tank top was rucked up under my breasts, shorts and panties long gone, legs still trembling from the orgasm he’d ripped out of me with his mouth and fingers. I felt exposed, raw, and so turned on I c

Marcus’s POV Fuck. This was a mistake.I knew it the second my lips crashed against hers. But knowing something is wrong has never stopped me before.Elena kissed me back like she’d been starving for it—hungry, desperate, and no hesitation. Her fingers curled into the front of my shirt, yanking me down harder, like she was afraid I’d pull away. As if I could. As if the world hadn’t just narrowed to the wet slide of her tongue against mine, the soft whimper she let out when I bit her bottom lip, the way her thighs parted instinctively when I settled my weight between them.I groaned into her mouth, low and rough, my control fraying thread by thread.She tasted better than I’d imagined. Mint toothpaste and the faintest trace of the cherry lip balm she always wore. My hand slid up from her hip, under the hem of that pathetic little tank top, fingers splaying across the warm, soft skin of her stomach. She sucked in a sharp breath, arching up into my touch like she couldn’t help herself.

Elena's POV I let out a heavy sigh and rolled my eyes so hard I thought they might stay that way. Marcus's voice was still echoing in my head like an annoying alarm I couldn't shut off. "You're not going to the after-party like that, Elena." His words had been firm, his tone bossy, and the worst part? I had actually listened.I didn't argue, didn't roll my eyes in front of him, didn't even mutter something under my breath like I usually would. I just nodded like some obedient little schoolgirl. Ugh. The memory made my skin crawl.But I didn't have much of a choice. Ever since my dad married Marcus's mom, everything changed. My dad and his new wife had flown off for their honeymoon—or "business trip" as they called it, like I didn't know what that meant—and I got stuck here, with him.Marcus Romano.The guy who was now apparently in charge of me until they got back. Just great.He was only a few years older than me, but he acted like he was thirty and

The days after that first night with Mason turned into this addictive, filthy rhythm that consumed me completely.I’d wake up alone in my bed, my body still humming from the way he’d fucked me the night before, sheets tangled and smelling like sex and him. My pussy would be sore in the best way—swollen, tender, a constant reminder of how deep he’d been, how hard he’d thrust until I was screaming his name.I’d touch myself in the shower every morning, fingers sliding easy because I was already soaked just thinking about him. I’d circle my clit slow at first, remembering his mouth there, then faster, two fingers pumping inside me like his cock had, until I came hard against the tile, biting my lip to muffle the moan of his name.We texted all day, talking about dirty, desperate things that kept me wet and aching at work. He’d send “Still wet for me?” and I’d reply “Yes, Daddy.” I’d send him a photo under my desk—skirt hiked, fingers teasing my bare pussy—and he’d call on his break, voi

Dinner with Mason was on Wednesday, and I spent the whole day at work distracted, checking my phone more than I should have, wondering if I’d imagined the way he’d looked at me during coffee, the way his fingers had brushed mine and lingered just a second too long.I told myself it was just dinner. Just two old friends catching up, and nothing more.But when he texted me that afternoon: “Picking you up at 7. Wear whatever makes you feel good.”—my stomach did that flip again, and I knew I was lying to myself.I got home early, showered, and stood in front of my closet longer than I wanted to admit. I finally chose the deep red wrap dress I’d bought last year and never had an occasion for—the one that hugged my waist and showed just enough cleavage to feel sexy without being over the top. Heels, hair down, a touch of perfume at my wrists and neck.When he knocked at seven sharp, I opened the door and forgot how to breathe for a second.He was in dark jeans and a black button-down, sleev

EpilogueEvelyn stood by the window, her hands resting lightly against the glass, her reflection staring back at her in a way that still felt unfamiliar. Not because she didn’t recognize herself—but because she did.She looked whole.Behind her, the apartment hummed with low activity. Carmen’s voice drifted from the kitchen, sharp and lively as ever, arguing with Reed about whether he was doing anything useful or simply occupying space. Reed, naturally, claimed he was being “emotionally supportive,” which only earned him a snort and a threat involving hot coffee.Down the hallway, two small boys laughed—bright, unrestrained laughter that filled every corner of the apartment. Jayden and Jayson, nearly four now, darted between Gregory’s legs as he tried, unsuccessfully, to pretend he wasn’t enjoying every second of it.“Slow down,” Gregory said, his voice stern in tone but warm beneath it. “This is a wedding, not a race.”“But Grandpa G!” Jayden protested. “We’re

Evelyn’s POVThe courthouse emptied slowly.Evelyn stood just outside the heavy doors, sunlight spilling over the wide steps, her breath unsteady. The air felt different, lighter, but also heavier in a way she hadn’t prepared for.Because winning didn’t erase what had been lost.Carmen came up beside her first, slipping an arm around her shoulders without saying a word, she didn’t need to. Carmen had been there through every sleepless night, every panic spiral, every moment Evelyn had doubted her own reality.“You did it,” Carmen said softly, voice thick. “You survived it.”Evelyn nodded, though tears blurred her vision again. “I didn’t think I would.”Reed stood a few steps away, hands in his pockets, giving her space but never leaving her sight. His expression was lighter than she’d seen it in months, but there was still something protective in the way he watched her, as if the world might try to take something else from her if he blinked.“You don’t have to be s

Evelyn's POV It's been weeks since Damian’s visit to the house, and several more court sittings since then. But today, the courtroom was quieter than it had ever been.It was the quiet weighted with inevitability, one where everyone present understood that this was not another sitting meant to gather facts, this was the sitting where everything ended.Evelyn sat between Carmen and Reed, her hands folded neatly in her lap, though her fingers trembled despite her effort to stay composed. Jayden wasn’t with them—Carmen had insisted the baby stay home with a babysitter this time. This was not a place for an infant, not today, not when truths this sharp were about to be carved into the record.Across the aisle, Damian sat beside his legal counsel, his posture rigid, his face carved from restraint. Gregory sat a few rows behind him, his presence steady, watchful. He had said little since the last hearing, he simply watched.The truth had begun speaking for itself.Vanes

Damian’s POVDamian didn’t remember driving himself in a long time, but he needed to do it himself that day.He had driven these streets a thousand times in his life—Manhattan roads, Jersey turnoffs, private estate routes—but this time, the world seemed muted, as though sound and color had been stripped down to the bare minimum needed for existence. The city passed him in fragments: traffic lights changing, pedestrians crossing, buildings blurring into one another, but none of it registered fully.All he could see was Evelyn’s face in the courtroom. It had been quiet, restrained, the kind that didn’t scream or collapse. The kind that hollowed someone out from the inside and left them standing anyway. When Vanessa’s confession had spilled out—when the truth about the twins had detonated in that courtroom—Damian had felt something inside him tear so violently he had almost doubled over.Twins.Evelyn had carried twins.And he had stood there, watching another woma

Reed’s POVReed was halfway through arguing with Carmen about whether babies could actually sense emotional tension when his phone started ringing.He glanced at the screen, it was Damian Blackwood.For a second, he considered not answering.Not out of spite—though there was some of that—but because he already knew what this call would be about. The case had crossed a line today, several lines, actually. Legal ones, moral ones, emotional ones. And Reed had spent the better part of the afternoon holding Evelyn together with careful words and professional distance, even as his own chest still felt tight from what had come out in that courtroom.He exhaled slowly and answered.“Reed,” Damian’s voice came through, low and controlled, but Reed had known him long enough to hear what lived beneath it.“Damian,” Reed replied evenly. “What do you need?”There was a pause.“I need Evelyn’s address.”Reed closed his eyes briefly.There it was, straight to the point, as alway

Damian’s POVThe drive back to the mansion was silent, not the comfortable kind. Not the familiar, practiced silence Damian had mastered over the years—the one that came from control and certainty. This silence was heavy, oppressive, filled with words that had already been said and truths that could never be taken back.The car moved smoothly along the road, tires rolling against the tarred floor, but Damian barely registered the passing streets. His hands were folded tightly in his lap, fingers clenched as though holding onto something invisible. His jaw ached from how long he had kept it locked.Beside him, Gregory sat quietly, his cane resting between his knees, his gaze fixed out the window. The old man had said nothing since they left the courthouse, but Damian could feel his presence like a steady weight—watching, thinking, waiting.Damian’s mind wasn’t in the car, it was still in the courtroom, still on Evelyn. The moment replayed in his head without mercy.T