WARNING: This book is dripping in sin. It contains unapologetically explicit smut—raw, steamy, and wildly taboo. If you're not into filthy fantasies, solo indulgence, beast x human, wolf x wolf or human heat, dominant billionaire bosses, fae seductions, or lust-fueled encounters with no strings attached, turn back now. But if you're craving a no-holds-barred ride through 170 explosive, pulse-pounding steamiest stories that will leave your body aching and your imagination on fire, welcome, my daring guest. Everything here is pure fantasy, purely mine. Read at your own risk... of intense arousal.
View MoreThe office was too quiet for this late in the evening. Floors below, the last cleaners had gone home. The city buzzed outside the glass wall, but up here, everything was still. Too still.
Eva’s heels clicked on the polished marble as she crossed the space with calm she didn’t feel. Her pulse jumped, shallow in her throat. The elevator doors behind her closed with a soft hiss, sealing her in. Mr. Callum Thorne. CEO. Billionaire. Bastard. She should’ve been gone hours ago. Her audit report had been submitted by noon, but the man had requested a meeting after dark. The message had come through his assistant, cold and clipped: Mr. Thorne wants to review the figures in private. Private. That word had curled under her skin all day. His office was at the far end, its door wide open. He sat behind his desk, black shirt rolled up to the elbows, tie loose, silver watch catching the light. And he was watching her. Like he always did. Like he owned every inch of her. “Miss Rowe,” he said, voice deep and quiet. “Close the door.” She did, slowly, hand on the cool brass handle. When it clicked shut, her chest lifted with a breath she hadn’t realized she’d held. He gestured to the chair opposite him. “Have a seat.” She didn’t sit. Not yet. She stepped closer, heels silent on the rug now. His gaze dragged down her body, hungry. Calculating. “You asked for an audit,” she said, holding the folder in her hand. “You didn’t really care about the numbers.” His brow lifted slightly. “And what makes you say that?” “You don’t bring interns to your office at midnight for numbers, Mr. Thorne.” A muscle ticked in his jaw. She stepped around the desk. His chair squeaked as he leaned back, surprised. “You think I called you up here for... this?” he asked, voice tighter now. “I know you did.” Her voice was soft, almost sweet. She reached for his tie, fingers brushing the silk. “You’ve been looking at me since I started. Every meeting. Every elevator ride. You act like you don’t see me, but I see the way your cock twitches when I say yes, sir.” His nostrils flared. But he didn’t stop her. “You think I don’t notice when you linger behind me at the printer?” she whispered. “You want me to think I’m powerless. That I’m just an intern. But you brought me here for a reason.” He gripped the arms of his chair. His breath was shallow now. She straddled his lap slowly, hips sinking down until she could feel the hard line of him beneath her. “Tell me to stop,” she said. He didn’t. He couldn’t. Her fingers slipped the knot of his tie loose. “You think I’m here to obey you, Mr. Thorne. But tonight, I’m not your intern.” She leaned close. “Tonight, you’re mine.” He opened his mouth, maybe to protest, maybe to command her to get off him, but she kissed him before he could speak. Hard, deep, with months of tension pouring from her mouth to his. He groaned low in his throat, cock twitching under her. She reached between them and undid his belt with one hand, slow and teasing, her fingers brushing over his bulge deliberately. He shivered, jaw clenched. “Still in charge?” she whispered against his mouth. His answer was a growl, but it wasn’t resistance. It was surrender wrapped in frustration. His cock was already thick in her palm, hot and pulsing. She stroked him once, twice, then stood, tugged her pencil skirt up over her hips, and pushed her soaked panties aside. He looked up at her, lips parted, helpless. She didn’t wait. She sank down on him in one smooth motion, taking him in deep. They both gasped—her fingers clawed into his shoulders, his hands gripped her thighs like he was about to lose his mind. “Fuck,” he bit out, voice hoarse. “You’re so—fuck.” “Tight?” she whispered with a smile, grinding down, slow and cruel. “Wet?” He cursed again and tried to move, tried to thrust up into her, but she pressed a hand to his chest. “No,” she said. “You stay still.” He stared at her, breathing hard, sweat starting to bead at his temple. “You like being used, don’t you?” she whispered, riding him slow, deliberate. “All that money, all that power. But this is what you needed.” He grabbed the edge of the desk behind him like it was the only thing anchoring him. She clenched around him and his whole body jerked. “I should ruin you,” she said sweetly. “Make you beg.” His mouth opened again, breath ragged. “Do it.” That one whisper changed everything. She picked up speed, hips snapping harder now, wet heat slapping skin to skin. His control was gone, the tension in his arms shaking. He looked like he might lose it. And that was what she wanted. “You want to come,” she said, voice taunting. His nod was tight. Desperate. “But you don’t come unless I say so.” His groan was strangled. His hands finally reached for her hips, holding her tighter as she fucked him, his control breaking with every breath. She leaned in, bit the line of his jaw. “You gonna come in me like a good boy?” “Yes,” he gritted. “Say it.” “I’m gonna come,” he gasped. “Please. Let me.” She smiled and squeezed tighter around him. “Come for me.” He did. He came with a strangled growl, thrusting up into her helplessly as she rode him through it. She didn’t stop, not until he was trembling, sweat slicking his chest, breath gone. She finally slowed, leaned in, licked a drop of sweat from his neck. “Still the boss?” she whispered. He didn’t answer. He couldn’t. His body had turned to putty beneath her. She climbed off him, fixing her skirt with slow fingers. As she turned to leave, she looked back once over her shoulder. “Next time, maybe you’ll ask nicely.”Caelan POVShe was asleep beside me, finally. Quiet, soft. Her hair spilled across my chest like flame, her fingers twitching even in her dreams. I'd ruined her. I'd watched her break and beg, and I hadn't even touched the surface of what I wanted from her.And still, she stayed.I slid out of bed, moving like a shadow, naked and still hard. My cock pulsed even now, aching for more of her. Her taste lingered on my tongue, on my fingers, on my cock. But this, this wasn’t over. Not until she knew who I really was beneath all the teasing and torment.Not until I knew if she could survive me.She stirred. Her lashes fluttered. “Caelan?” Her voice, hoarse and bruised with pleasure, lit something possessive in me.I crouched beside the bed. My fingers traced her inner thigh. “You’re awake.”She nodded, reaching for me.I caught her wrist. “No. Hands stay on the bed.”Her eyes widened. But she obeyed.“You thought that was the end?” I murmured. “You thought I’d let you sleep with my cum drip
I woke in silk sheets that smelled like him, dark leather, pine, and something primal.The space was low-lit, shadows hugging every corner. I was still sore between my thighs, skin marked where he'd touched, claimed, punished. My wrists tingled from the cuffs. My nipples still throbbed from the clamps he'd removed with his mouth, slowly, like a reward. Like I was something to savor.And yet, I felt...alive.I sat up slowly, pulling the blanket around me, heart beating unevenly as I looked around the penthouse bedroom. Then I saw him—Caelan. Standing at the floor-length window, shirtless, his tattoos in full display. A jagged raven spanned his spine, wings black and torn. The muscles of his back moved with each breath like living armor."You disobeyed," he said without turning around. His voice wasn’t angry. It was...calm. Dangerous.“I didn’t mean to,” I said, quietly."You came without permission. Twice."I felt heat flood my cheeks. “I tried to hold back—”"You didn’t," he said. He
Warnings: Explicit, steamy, delayed pleasure, sex toys, dark romance, unhinged male lead, dominant-submissive tension, humanized emotion...“Obey me, or I’ll make you beg for it.”That was the first thing he said when I stepped into his penthouse. No welcome, no small talk. Just that command. And God help me, I obeyed.His name was Caelan Dray. The man they whispered about at boardrooms and parties, a ghost who built his empire through shadows and silence. He didn’t smile. He didn't ask. He took. And the moment his eyes pinned me, something reckless bloomed in my chest.“Strip,” he said now, his voice a low, brutal growl as he leaned back in the leather chair, sleeves rolled up, tattoos slipping from his forearms like sin.My throat went dry. But I did as told. Slowly. A button at a time.“You hesitate,” he murmured, his eyes fixed on me like I was prey. “You want to be in control, but you don’t know how to surrender. That’s why you’re here.”I swallowed hard. “I came for a contrac
Patrick didn’t let her go.Not that night. Not the next morning.And certainly not after the way she moaned his name with her back arched, legs trembling, soaked around his cock as if she was made to be filled by him.He'd told himself it would be once.A single mistake. A weakness.But the feel of her still haunted his fingertips.She slept in his bed now, her small, soft body curled against his bare chest like she belonged to him. Her scent was already in his sheets, under his skin, locked in his blood.He hadn’t even marked her yet, and already, she was his.Every time she stirred in the night, his cock responded.Hard. Needy. Ready.He tried to resist. But the beast in him, the one that had been locked in iron for years, was wide awake now. Starving.And she was the only thing that satisfied it.Chalette woke to the sound of metal scraping against stone.Patrick stood at the edge of the room, naked, dragging a massive iron bolt across the door.Locking it.Her thighs clenched inst
The first time Chalette Kadim saw him, he was standing in the courtyard beneath a blood-soaked moon, bare-chested and glistening with sweat from the forge, hammer in hand.Patrick Allen.Her guardian. Her warden. Her curse.He was supposed to be a myth. A half-shadow man who’d ruled the iron hills for centuries, exiled from the royal court for crimes no one would speak of. And yet here he was, alive, carved from stone and fire, every part of him dangerous.She had been sent to him as punishment.“Keep her until the season changes,” the King had ordered. “Break her spirit. Then send her back.”He didn’t ask questions. He never did. He only stared, long and hard, before turning away with a mutter of disinterest.But Chalette knew what she saw in that look, curiosity, hunger.And she was starving, too....The manor was all cold corridors and locked doors, save for the forge where Patrick worked shirtless through the night, the sound of steel shaping steel echoing into her dreams. She
flashbacks Jia Juno was sixteen when their parents married.Kai was nineteen, already under the thumb of the Juno crime syndicate, already blooded, already breaking ribs for information in the marble basements below the estate.He knew it the moment he saw her.The moment she glided barefoot into the room, eyes like lit coals, hair a dark spill over a lace nightgown too sheer for decency.She had no shame.And he had no salvation.He called her “sister” once.Only once.She slapped him.“You’re not my fucking brother,” she said. “So don’t say it like you are.”And just like that something inside him snapped.No. Not snapped.Awakened.That night, Kai watched her through the narrow slit between her door and the hallway shadows. She always left it cracked open, careless in her innocence or maybe intentional in her defiance.She slept naked.He learned that fast.She never used a blanket either, just curled sideways, the curve of her ass peeking from under her sheet, a hand tucked betwe
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