تسجيل الدخولWarning: This book is fucking disgusting. If the thought of getting your tight little holes stretched, used, and ruined makes you uncomfortable, close it right now and go read something vanilla. But if your pussy is already dripping and your thighs are squeezing together… keep reading, you filthy little slut. Throw away every safe, sweet romance you’ve ever touched. This collection doesn’t ask permission. It kicks the door down, grabs you by the hair, slams you face-down, and fucks you raw until you forget your own name. No slow burn. No gentle teasing. No fade-to-black bullshit. Every story starts fast, hits harder, and doesn’t stop until she’s spread wide open, stuffed full of thick cock, leaking load after load from every hole, and begging like a desperate whore for more. Stepdads and stepbrothers who double-team her while Mommy sleeps ten feet away, pumping her full of forbidden cum. Daddy’s closest friend blackmailing her with that slutty nude she accidentally sent, forcing her to cum on his fingers while Dad cheers at the TV inches away. Being gangbanged by drunk older men in the bar —every hole used, every load swallowed or pumped deep until cum runs down her thighs in thick rivers. Choking. Breeding. Gangbangs. Triple penetration. Degradation. Face-fucking. Raw, unprotected creampies that ruin you for any other man. If the thought of being held down and used without mercy while you cum so hard you see stars makes your cunt throb… You’re exactly where you belong. Turn the page, baby.. Your men are waiting. And they’re starving to wreck you...
عرض المزيدThe jealousy started with a TA named Jordan. Tall, charming, the kind of guy who leaned too close when he “helped” with peer reviews and smelled like expensive cologne and bad decisions. He’d been circling me for weeks—lingering comments on my drafts, invitations to study groups that never seemed to include anyone else. I mostly ignored it. Alex didn’t. Thursday seminar. Jordan sat on the edge of my desk while we were supposed to be workshopping, voice low, fingers brushing the back of my hand when he pointed at a line. I laughed at something stupid he said. Harmless. Automatic. Alex’s pen snapped in half. The sound cracked across the room. Everyone went quiet. He stared at Jordan like he was already calculating how hard he’d have to hit to make the pretty face unrecognizable. Then he looked at me. The expression on his face wasn’t professor. It wasn’t even angry. It was pure, black possession. “Miss Kane,” he said, voice dangerously soft. “My office. After class.” I went. Of co
Mom came home Friday night smelling like airport and hotel soap. She hugged me, kissed Alex on the mouth right in front of me, and asked if we’d “behaved.” I almost laughed. The bruises on my hips were still purple under my jeans. He answered for both of us—smooth, polite, the perfect husband—while his eyes met mine over her shoulder and said something completely different. We lasted exactly thirty-six hours before he broke his own rule. Monday after class he told me to stay behind again. Same cold voice. Same front-row seat. The second the door shut he locked it, crossed the room, and had me bent over his desk before I could even set my bag down. “Thought you said this wouldn’t happen again,” I whispered, already wet just from the sound of the lock clicking. He shoved my skirt up, yanked my panties to the side, and pushed two fingers into me without warning. “I lied.” No preamble. No soft words. He freed his cock, rolled a condom on with one hand, and sank into me in one hard th
Mom left for a three-day conference in Chicago on Wednesday morning. Kissed Alex on the cheek, told me to “be good for him,” and drove off like she hadn’t just handed me the keys to hell.The house felt different the second the door shut. Bigger. Quieter. Dangerous.I spent the afternoon pretending to work on the rewrite he’d ordered. Mostly I just sat at the kitchen island in one of his old dress shirts—stolen from the laundry, still smelling like him—and shorts so short the pockets hung lower than the hem. He came home at six, loosened his tie, and found me like that. Didn’t say a word at first. Just looked. Long and slow. Then he poured two glasses of the good whiskey he usually saved for himself and set one in front of me.“You’re not twenty-one,” he said.“You’re not my real dad.”He almost smiled. Almost. We drank in silence while the sky went dark outside. The air between us felt charged, like the second before a storm hits. Every time I shifted on the stool the shirt rode high
Monday morning I walked into Lecture Hall B wearing the shortest skirt I owned and no panties. Just a thin white button-down that gaped a little when I breathed and a black leather bag that smelled like the new notebooks I’d bought just to look prepared. Front row, center. Exactly where he’d told me to sit.He was already there, sleeves rolled, glasses on, writing something on the board in that sharp, aggressive handwriting of his. When the door shut behind the last student he turned, scanned the room, and landed on me like he’d been waiting for it. His eyes dropped once—quick, deliberate—to the stretch of bare thigh where the skirt had ridden up. Then he looked away and started class like nothing had happened.He was worse in public. Cold. Precise. Every sentence a blade. He called on me three times in the first twenty minutes, each question sharper than the last, voice never rising above that low, controlled register that made my cunt clench.“Miss Kane. Define the unreliable narrat
*A New Collection I was sprawled across my bed in nothing but the thin silk robe I’d stolen from Mom’s closet, the fabric slipping off one shoulder as I read Tyler’s latest text for the third time. “Babe, I’m dying over here. Send me something filthy so I can stroke to it before I lose my mind.”
The hotel room door barely clicked shut before hands were all over me. Not gentle. Not careful. Hungry. Mike shoved me backward onto the nearest bed so hard my back bounced on the mattress. The lamp cast ugly yellow light across the room, but nobody cared about romance. My head was still spinni
*A New Collection: After being in a four years relationship with Jake, Emily catches him and her bestfriend hooking up. Heartbroken - Leading her to get complicated with some nasty strengers in the bar ready to split her open if she asked for it.(This is a continuation from my last book - Unheard P
Mark stood there in the near-dark, the faint glow from my nightlight catching the hard line of his jaw and the massive bulge straining the front of his gray sweatpants. He didn’t look shocked nor angry. He just looked… hungry. Like he’d been waiting for this exact moment. He stepped all the wa












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