Mag-log inSebastian’s POV~ The house was so quiet that I could hear my own blood moving in my ears. Sterling Manor always felt like a tomb after midnight. The stone walls held the cold, the long halls kept their secrets, and the only sound in my room was the slow tick of the clock downstairs and the faint hum of the laptop on my desk. I had poured a glass of whiskey an hour earlier and left it untouched beside me. The ice had melted into the amber liquid, leaving it warm and bitter, just like the thoughts in my head. I told myself I was only checking the security feed because Richard had asked me to watch over her. Noelle was twenty years old now. A grown woman, legally. But she was still his step-daughter, still my niece by marriage, still the girl my five brothers and I had been left in charge of. The cameras in the West Wing were supposed to be for her safety. That was the story I repeated in my mind every single night, like a prayer that had long since stopped working. Th
Noelle’s POV~ I slammed the heavy wooden door shut behind me. The sound was so loud it echoed in the big room. I leaned my whole back against the hard wood. My heart was beating so hard and so fast that I thought it was going to break right through my ribs. My lungs were burning. My whole body was shaking. What the actual fuck was that? I closed my eyes tight, but I could still see them. All six of them. Those huge, older men. My step-uncles. They were way too old for me. God, they were so hot it made me want to cry. They were tall. So tall I had to crane my neck back just to look at them. They were thick with heavy muscle everywhere, broad chests, huge arms, big strong thighs. And their cocks. My goodness! I saw the outlines in their pants. Those massive, thick bulges resting heavy against their legs. I shouldn't have looked. I definitely shouldn't have imagined what they looked like, hard, veiny, and thick, slapping against my tongue or stretching my tiny pussy open
Noelle’s POV~ His trousers do nothing to hide the thick, heavy length of his cock pressing against his thigh. "Is that so, Noelle?" Sebastian asks, his voice dripping with calm, terrifying condescension. "You possess a very sharp mouth. I believe we will need to find a much better, more constructive use for all that energy." My cheeks flush hotly under his scrutinizing gaze. Fuck. I bet he knows exactly how to use my mouth. He would hold my hair and force me to take every thick inch of him. No… no no! Noelle, what the hell is wrong with you? He’s your uncle! I open my mouth to fire back a scathing retort, but a cold, deeply resonant voice cuts cleanly through the thick tension. "That is quite enough, Sebastian." *Gabriel, the Professor of Literature, emerges from the shadows near the grand staircase. He is perhaps the most striking of them all, with thick, dark hair heavily threaded with distinguished silver at the temples. His pale blue eyes feel as though the
Noelle’s POV~ Let’s get one thing perfectly straight: I am not a bad girl. I am simply... heavily misunderstood. And perhaps slightly spoiled. But can anyone truly blame me? My mother, Vivian, is a retired supermodel with the attention span of a hummingbird and a penchant for drama. Six months ago, she married Richard Sterling, a real estate mogul so staggeringly wealthy he practically owns the city skyline. Because Richard is completely, pathetically besotted with my mother, he agreed to fund my "higher education" at Rosewood University, the most elite, pretentious, and exorbitantly expensive private college in the country. There is only one glaring problem. I was unceremoniously expelled from my last three schools for severe "behavioral issues." (To be fair, I only set a cheerleader’s hair extensions on fire because she looked at me wrong, and yes, I may have keyed my ex-boyfriend’s Porsche, but he deserved it). Rosewood was my absolute final chance. My mother wept,
Layla’s POV~ Let me tell you something the five of them still do not know. They think I was framed. They think some stranger put a dead man in a room with my fingerprints, that I ran into the woods because I was scared, that they rescued me, ruined me, and claimed me like a pack of animals who finally stopped pretending to be men. They are wrong. All of it was me. Yes… me. And I’m not sorry for that. I put my own fingerprints on that glass. I called the tip in myself an hour before I ran. I made sure the body was found in the east wing where Silas would see it, where Arthur would handle it, where Damian would chase me, where Julian would catch me, where Felix would smile like he had been waiting his whole life for the feast to start. I did not run because I was afraid of prison. I ran because I wanted them to chase me. I have wanted this since I was twenty years old. Since Arthur first looked at me like I was more than a brat in his library. Since Silas married my mot
Julian’s POV~ She opened her mouth, and I shoved my cock that was still slick with her ass and my precum, straight past her lips. She gagged at the taste of herself, at the filth of it, and I held her nose so she had to take it. “Taste your ass on my cock, sis,” I snarled. “Be filthy for me.” Her tongue worked over my shaft, licking every inch, cleaning the mess while tears ran down her face. And then I came, thick and hot, deep into her mouth. She swallowed, choked, and swallowed again, her throat kept working around me while I pumped every drop down her throat. I held her there until I was empty, then pulled out and let her fall forward onto the rug, gasping, coughing, cum and spit on her lips. I stood there for a moment, my chest heaving, my cock still wet, looking down at her. She was shaking, used, filled in every hole by every man in this room. And yet, when her eyes found mine, there was no hate in them. Only exhaustion and something that looked too much like trust
Elena’s POV~The pink box was heavy. I was carrying it down the hallway. Toward his room. Like he told me to. Because he TOLD me to. And I did it. Like a good girl. Like an idiot.My arms were shaking. Not from the weight of the box but from the fact that I could hear him behind me. His bare feet o
Elena’s POV~I stopped breathing. My hand was still buried inside me, slick and aching, trapped between my legs and his iron grip. I couldn't pull it out. I didn't want to.He pulled slowly. Agonizingly slowly..My juices made a wet, sucking noise as he dragged my fingers out of my pussy.He held m
To my filthy girlies… this isn’t a love story. It’s a confession. Every story in this book is about women who were ‘good girls’ until they met a man who didn’t want good. He wanted wrecked. If you like it slow, go read a romance book. If you like it raw, if you like the sound of a spank echoing of
Elena’s POV~The next morning, I moved like a criminal.It was 6:45 AM. The house was dead silent, but I knew better. I needed to leave the house for school before daddy woke up. I had been trying so hard to avoid him. I shoved my feet into my sneakers, grabbed my bag, and crept down the hall. My







