All Chapters of Fifty Shades of Desire: A Collection of Lust and Love: Chapter 11 - Chapter 20

79 Chapters

Sold to Alaric (3)

The next day, I woke with a throbbing headache and a body that didn’t feel like mine. Every muscle ached, and every breath cost something. I lay still for a moment, staring at the ceiling, relearning the simple fact that I was still here. Still alive. After last night, I hadn’t been entirely sure I would be. I tried to roll onto my side. I let out a sharp, involuntary cry before I could stop it. Pain surged through me, raw and intimate, marking my body like a map of everything that had happened. The marks were visible, impossible to hide or ignore. I lay back and stared at the ceiling again. He was gone. The other side of the bed was cold, the sheets barely disturbed on his side, as though he had risen and left without a single moment of hesitation. A knock broke the silence. “Who is it?” My voice came out hoarse. “Kelly,” a man replied through the door. “Housekeeping.” I pulled the blanket up to my chin just as the door swung open. A young man in a uniform stepped inside, his

Forbidden Hands (1)

“Is this the princess?” The voice came from my left. The court officials lined up along the hall in their bright robes, smiling their practiced smiles. Their eyes moved over me the way men’s eyes do when they think looking is the same as owning. “Rare beauty,” another one uttered. “The king is very lucky.” I kept my face calm and my expression pleasant. My mother had taught me that before any of this happened, before the war, before the betrayal, before everything I had known was turned to ash. A woman’s face in a foreign court is its own kind of weapon. Show them what they want to see. Give them nothing real. I stopped in front of the king and bowed. “You may rise, my beloved concubine.” I rose. I smiled, a small, soft, and harmless gesture. The smile of a woman who has surrendered. A defeated princess. And then I made the mistake of letting my eyes move. He was standing to the king’s right—exactly where a first prince should stand. Tall, calm, and dressed in quiet authority.

Forbidden Hands (2)

“I can’t believe you would do this to your husband,” the prince said. He said the word "husband" like he meant for it to hurt. I stared at him. The blade in my hand, the sleeping king behind me, and the blood on my palm. Everything I had carefully planned—he had seen it. And now he was standing across the room wearing that expression I had spent months trying to forget. “How long have you been standing there?” I asked. My voice gave away nothing. “Is that really the tone you want to use with me right now?” He tilted his head slightly, the corner of his mouth lifting. He was enjoying this. He was actually enjoying this. He started walking toward me. “What are you doing in my chambers?” I kept the blade between us. “At this hour.” “I’m here to witness your night with my father,” he spoke gently. “But who could have thought that instead of seeing you moaning under him,”—his eyes moved briefly to the king’s sleeping form, then back to me—“you were busy scheming against your husband

Forbidden Hands (3)

The library smelled of old parchment, and the sharp, metallic scent of the incense Draven favored.It was a large, cold room, but as soon as I stepped inside and the heavy oak doors thudded shut behind me, the air felt as if it were disappearing.Draven didn’t look up from the scrolls spread across the mahogany table. He looked every bit the prince—impeccable, lethal, and devastatingly calm.“Sit, Alessia,” he said. His voice wasn’t the jagged whisper from the bedroom; it was the cool, commanding tone of a teacher.“I prefer to stand,” I replied, my hands hidden in the folds of my silk sleeves, clutched into white-knuckled fists.He finally looked up. His eyes traveled slowly from the hem of my royal gown up to the gold pins in my hair—gifts from his father. A dark, dangerous flash of possessiveness crossed his face.“A wife should obey her husband’s king,” he murmured, rising from his chair with the fluid grace of a predator. “And a student should obey her master.”He walked around th

The virgin thief (1)

The rain lashed against the floor-to-ceiling windows of the penthouse, blurring the city lights of Manhattan. I stood in the center of the room, my hands trembling as I held the stolen flash drive. “I know you’re there,” I whispered into the shadows. A low, dark chuckle came from the corner of the room. Julian Vane stepped into the light. He was dressed in a black suit, his tie loosened, and his eyes cold and predatory. He didn’t look like a CEO; he looked like a shark that had finally caught its prey. “You’re a very bad thief, Clara,” he said, his voice a smooth, dangerous silk. “Did you really think you could walk out of my office with my soul in your pocket?” “I needed the money,” I snapped, backing away until my heels hit the glass window. “My brother… he owes people. Bad people. They will kill him.” Julian stopped inches from me. He was tall, overwhelming, and smelled of expensive bourbon and cold rain. He reached out, his gloved hand catching my chin and tilting my face up.

The Virgin Thief (2)

He didn’t let me fall. As my legs gave out from the force of the climax, Julian’s strong arms caught me, hauling me back up until my feet barely touched the floor. He turned me around in his arms, his face flushed and his eyes dark with a hunger that hadn’t been satisfied—only provoked. “You think one time clears a debt like yours?” he rasped, his hands sliding up to cup my face. His thumbs smeared the tears on my cheeks. “Julian, I can’t… I’m shaking,” I whispered, my voice trembling. “Then don’t stand,” he growled. He lifted me effortlessly, my legs locking around his waist by instinct. He carried me away from the window and toward the massive mahogany desk in the center of the room. He cleared it with one sweep of his arm, sending expensive pens and crystal paperweights crashing to the floor. He sat me down on the edge of the cool wood and stepped between my thighs. “Look at me,” he commanded. I looked. He was stripping off his blazer and tossing it aside, his white dress sh

The Virgin Thief (3)

I stood in the center of the master suite, staring at the dress his assistant had left. It was silk, the color of a bruised plum, and so thin it felt like liquid.I didn’t want to put it on. I wanted to burn it. I wanted to take the heavy gold anklet he’d branded me with and throw it through his floor-to-ceiling windows.But then I remembered the way he looked at me in the dark. I remembered the way my body had sung under his hands, betraying every bit of my pride.I put the dress on. It clung to my curves like a second skin; the hem hitting mid-thigh; the neckline plunging low enough to show the faint red marks he’d left on my collarbone. I didn’t put on any underwear. Julian didn’t like barriers.The click of the electronic lock sounded, and Julian walked in, his black blazer over his arm, his white shirt unbuttoned at the collar. He looked tired, lethal, and devastatingly handsome.He stopped the moment his eyes landed on me. His gaze traveled from my bare feet—where the gold anklet

The Virgin Thief (4)

Epilogue: The Golden CageSix Months LaterThe morning sun over the Mediterranean was blinding, reflecting off the turquoise water in a way that made the entire world look like it was made of crushed diamonds. From the balcony of the villa in Amalfi, I could see the white yachts bobbing in the distance, but I didn’t look at them for long.I didn’t look at anything for long without checking to see where he was.Julian sat at a small wrought-iron table, a cup of black coffee in one hand and a tablet in the other. He looked relaxed in a linen shirt, the sleeves rolled up to reveal the heavy watch on his wrist.To the world, he was still the titan of industry, the man who moved markets with a whisper. To me, he was the man who had systematically dismantled my life until there was nothing left but him.I walked toward him, the silk of my robe whispering against the stone floor. The gold anklet—the one he had never allowed me to take off—glinted with every step. It had become a part of me,

The Devil Grandfather Chose for Me (1)

“Kai!” my grandfather called from the next room. I was staring at my computer screen, completely focused on my online game.“Kai!”His second call carried that quiet weight I could never ignore. I sighed, paused the game, and walked out.“Yes, Grandfather?” I stopped in front of his chair. He was sitting the way he always did when something important was coming: back straight, hands folded, eyes studying me.“Sit down,” he said.“Okay.” I sat beside him, trying to appear attentive. “Do you need something?”He cleared his throat, staring at me before speaking. “I want you to listen carefully,” he began. “Tomorrow, we will be going out… to meet your date.”My heart skipped a beat. “My… date?”“Your future partner. I want you to dress your best.”Something warm rushed through my chest. I stood up before I even realized it. “I’m finally meeting someone? A wife?” A laugh escaped me, sudden and full. “Grandfather, why didn’t you tell me sooner?”“Kai—”But I was already walking away, buzzin

The Devil Grandfather Chose for Me (2)

The word “husband” felt like a sudden shock.It rang in my ears, getting louder and louder until it became a sharp, painful buzz. I glanced at Caspian, then at my grandfather, and back at Caspian. My heart wasn’t just racing; it was pounding against my chest as if trying to break free.“A man?” I choked out. Heat rushed to my face; anger, embarrassment, and pure disbelief all mixed together at once. “Grandfather, you told me I was coming to meet my partner. You know how important it is for me to start a family. You know what I’ve been going through. How could you—”“Kai,” my grandfather hissed, his eyes darting toward Caspian in terror. “Be silent.”But Caspian didn’t even flinch. He leaned back in his chair, his long legs crossed elegantly. He looked at me not like a fiancé but like a collector examining a rare, slightly broken clock.“Did you think a woman was going to fix what’s broken inside you, Kai?” His voice was a blend of silk and stone, velvety and deep, yet carrying a hint

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