LOGINWARNING: This book is rated 18+ and contains explicit sexual content, graphic language, and dark, obsessive themes. Till Sin Do Us Apart is a one-shot taboo tale of lust and domination, where two or more souls collide in the dark, seeking pleasure, and craving release. It’s not only love that binds them, but obsession. This story is extremely sinful, forbidden, and erotic, a slow exhale of tension and temptation. It’s about the ache of being wanted too much, touched too hard, controlled too completely… and still coming back for more.
View MoreMARKED BY HIS OBSESSION
EVA & KINGSTON EVA'S POV High school is something most people put behind them as life beckons them forward, but for me? The carefree life of summer teen days was something I never wanted to say goodbye to. And I didn't. College? Nah Job? Don't think so! Laying by the pool in my parent's luscious backyard in my string bikini, I was too busy enjoying life at a leisure place to waste my time on the bores. Instead I'd soaked up some sun, then head inside, eat, clean up, and head out for a night on the town. Clubbing and bars, have a blast with my girlfriends, most of whom were like me, they skipped the whole bore of college and work life. Though that one day, I was in for a surprise. When I walked into the house I found my mother and father arguing, which was odd. They never fought like the parents of poorer kids. They had everything. But when I saw them brandishing around a letter and arguing, it seems like reality hit home. I tried to put it behind me after they explained what was happening. They'd said horrible things like I'd need to get a job! That they couldn't afford to carter to my lavish lifestyle. And I'd have to make my own way. I was in tears, frankly. And even that didn't change their minds, so I knew it was serious. I wasn't the most fun that night, not in on the laughs my friends were having, but trying to not let them realise I was about to become one of those depressing tales of woe. What a bummer! But out of the neon lights of the club appeared a tall, dark and handsome man, dressed better than all the other guys I'd seen that night. He stood out, but not in a bold way. I guess maybe it was the way he walked with that kinda swagger like he owned the world. It was like the calling card of the rich and famous. Warded off those that'd be too intimidated to talk to someone that was just, like brimming with confidence. But for me? It made me get off my ass and start towards him. That was just what I needed. Some rich jackass to treat me like a million bucks, buy my drinks, and make everything go back to normal. Sure, I was thinking of one night for the second, but every step I took towards him and my expectations grew. One stilettoed heel in front of the other,y slinky, black dress creeping up over my long legs with every step. By the time I got to him, I wanted him to be puffy in my hand. His intense gaze turned towards me and I sensed I felt something familiar about him, though I couldn't place it. He was no older than me, but he looked far more mature. "Surprised to see you here," he suddenly said. His deep, gravelly voice carrying over the beat of the music to my ears. He was broad shouldered but fit and trim, judging by the looks of his tailored. "But then not," he added on, as if he knew me. My nose crinkled and I giggled, as if I was totally in on his joke. The worst thing in the world would be to tell this stud I didn't remember him. "It's been awhile," I said, taking a stab in the dark. I mean, It wasn't like it was complete stab, because If I'd seen him recently, I totally would have remembered him. "You look good," I added on. He sized me up in return, as if truly scrutinizing me. Though even that stony, confidently handsome face of his couldn't keep him from the truth. "So do you. Better than ever in fact," he stated, turning towards me and looking so intense. "Easy to see you've been taking good care of yourself. You're hotter than even my memories could do justice." He said so openly, looking utterly unperturbed by the confession. As if the words didn't affect him at all, but I knew the difference. I jut my hip out, my hand on it like I was going to another photo shoot, and gave him my best smile. "So are you going to buy me a drink, then?" I asked, trying to be cocky. "I remembered a time when you would barely let me do that much," he said, cracking the slightest of his little smile as he flagged down the bartender, able to command her attention so easily, when most of us struggled. "I trust you like the same," he said, before ordering me a Cosmo, same as I'd always loved, since I was a girl. He'd bought me drinks before, or at least offered, and still I couldn't even remember him. Maybe he was, like ugly or something before. Lost weight or something? I just couldn't place him, and trust me, I'd have remembered someone like him. "So when did you get back?" I asked, guessing once more. "Just last week, in fact. Rolled into town to buy a few businesses up," he said as our drinks arrived, him with a vodka tonic, sipping it as he looked me over. "I was going to look you up, but honestly, I didn't expect to stumble upon you this quickly," he leaned against the bar, his own fit from silhouette in the dark light so well as he studied me, soaked me in like I was the main course of a meal. "I know what you've been up to though," he said with a cocky grin. I giggled as I took the straw into my mouth, wrapping my tongue around it before taking a sip of the drink. "Ohh, a stalker?" I purred. "Not quite," he replied, talking another mouthful of his stiff drink. "I just figured there's no chance In hell with that body of yours, you've changed since we last met. And you're still doing the exact same thing since I last touched based with you. Am I wrong?" He asked, cocking an eyebrow in challenge to me. Okay, who the hell was this dude. The fact I couldn't remember him was starting to grow old, and I was getting frustrated, so I took another sip of my Cosmo and gave him a dazzling smile. Flipping my long hair from my shoulder. "I know what I want in life, is that a crime?" "No. And I hope that means you won't blame me for pursuing what I want so damn hard either," he said with a wolfish grin, as if I was his prey. He knocked back the rest of his drink, then laid the empty tumbler on the bar top as he leaned in just a bit closer. "I know you don't remember, but when last we met I wanted something more than just a fling. You left me in the dirt." He reached out to touch his strong hand on my waist. "I never forgot you, not even the way you taste. And like all things we did that night, I have trouble letting go of my desires." Damn. I inhaled sharply as it was all coming back to me. I looked at him again and swallowed hard. But I sipped my drink, as if I wasn't freaking out inwardly.MY HORNY STEP BROTHER 2 Sophia woke to sunlight pouring through sheer curtains and the low thrum of need still coiled tight in her belly. Every inch of her body remembered Julian’s hands, his rough palms sliding up her thighs, thick fingers buried deep inside her, the way he’d watched her fall apart with dark, possessive eyes. She could still taste him on her lips, feel the phantom press of his hard cock against her stomach.She rolled onto her back, her thighs squeezing together. The ache between them was relentless. One hand drifted down, slipping beneath the thin silk of her sleep shorts. She was already soaked, swollen, her clit throbbing. It took only a few slow circles to bring herself off as her quiet gasps muffled into her pillow, her hips lifting as she imagined it was his tongue instead of her fingers.Afterward, she lay there flushed and unsatisfied. A quick release wasn’t enough. She needed more. Needed him.Just then, a text buzzed on her phone.Julian: Meet me at the gu
MY HORNY STEP BROTHER SOPHIA & JULIANSophia stepped out of the taxi and onto the sun-warmed gravel driveway, the late July heat pressing against her skin like a lover’s breath. At twenty, she was home from college for the summer, her second year behind her, and everything about this place felt both familiar and strangely new. The sprawling modern house loomed ahead, glass walls, clean lines, a sparkling infinity pool glinting in the distance. Her mother’s new husband, Victor, had excellent taste. And money. Lots of it.But Sophia’s pulse wasn’t racing because of the house.It was racing because of him.Victor’s son. Her new stepfather’s son. Her stepbrother.Julian.She hadn’t seen him in person since the wedding three months ago, when he’d flown in for forty-eight hours, looking devastating in a charcoal suit that hugged his broad shoulders. At thirty-two, Julian was twelve years older—tall, dark-haired, with sharp features and storm-green eyes that seemed to strip away every defen
I WANT MY FATHER'S BEST FRIEND 4Isabella waited until the house was completely dark.The grandfather clock in the foyer struck eleven before she slipped out of her room, barefoot, wearing only the thinnest silk robe she owned. It was black, barely tied, slipping off one shoulder the moment she moved. Beneath it, she wore nothing. Her skin was already flushed, her nipples tight from anticipation, the slick heat between her thighs impossible to ignore with every step.She padded down the hallway to his door.It was ajar, just enough to spill a low, amber glow from the bedside lamp.She pushed it open.Marcus stood at the foot of the bed, shirtless, his jeans unbuttoned but still on. The room smelled of him, leather, cedar, bourbon, and the faint metallic edge of arousal. His chest rose and fell steadily, but his eyes were black with hunger as they locked on her.“Lock it,” he said, his voice rough.She turned, clicked the deadbolt.When she faced him again, he crooked one finger.“Come
I WANT MY FATHER'S BEST FRIEND 3 Isabella woke before dawn, the ranch house still wrapped in silence. She slipped into riding clothes. Tight black jodhpurs that hugged every curve, a thin white tank top that clung to her breasts when she moved, and knee-high boots that made her legs look endless. No bra. No panties. Just skin against fabric, the faint friction already teasing her as she dressed. She knew Marcus would notice. She knew he’d try not to. She padded downstairs barefoot, coffee pot already gurgling on the counter. He’d been up for hours, she could smell the fresh hay and leather on the air. When she stepped onto the porch, the sky was bruising purple, the first sliver of sun cutting across the hills. He was at the corral, saddling a big bay gelding. His shirt sleeves rolled, forearms corded, jeans low on his hips. The horse nickered softly as Marcus checked the girth. He didn’t look up when she approached, but his shoulders tensed. “Morning,” she said, her voice light.






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