บททั้งหมดของ Sinful Alphas: A Dark Romance Erotica Collection: บทที่ 1 - บทที่ 10

Darius’s POV The weight of the past week pressed down on my shoulders like a fucking mountain. Five attacks. Five. My warriors were dropping like flies, and the pack was starting to whisper. I could feel their fear, their doubt, creeping through the bonds like rot. I was Darius fucking Vargas, the Alpha of the Moon Ridge Pack, I couldn't let shit like this keep happening! I needed to clear my head. Needed to forget, even if just for an hour. That's how I ended up in my quarters with Rachel, an omega who'd made it clear she was available whenever I needed release. She was soft, willing, and asked no questions. Perfect for what I required. She was on her knees before me, her mouth wrapped around my cock, sucking eagerly as I leaned back against the headboard. Her tongue worked the shaft, her lips sliding up and down with practiced rhythm. I tangled my fingers in her hair, guiding her pace, grunting as she took me deeper. "That's it," I growled, thrusting into her throat. "Take

Darius’s POVThe door to my office slammed shut behind me, the heavy oak groaning in protest. I didn't bother lighting a lamp. The darkness suited me, swallowed the shame that clung to my skin like her scent.I collapsed into my chair, elbows on the desk, head in my hands. My knuckles still bore the faint redness from where I'd punched the dungeon wall. My cock still ached from the way she'd clenched around me.What have I done?I'd interrogated prisoners before. Countless times. We had tools for that—pliers, blades, hot irons. Screaming was the music we played to get answers. Blood was the currency. But this... this wasn't interrogation. This was something else entirely.I'd taken her like an animal. Like she was mine.And the worst part? I wanted to do it again.I closed my eyes, and the world tilted.The morning sun streamed through the windows of the pack house kitchen. I sat at the head of the table, a cup of coffee warming my hands, watching her move around the stove. She wore o

Seraphina’s POVHe didn't let up. Each thrust drove me deeper into the cot, my bound hands straining above my head as the silver cuffs bit into my wrists. The metal was cold, unyielding, but the heat between my legs was a furnace. His cock was a battering ram, shoving into me with a rhythm that had no mercy, no pause. I felt his knot brush against my entrance with every inward slam, not quite swelling yet, but threatening to lock us together."Still stubborn, little wolf?" he growled, his voice a low rumble that vibrated through his chest and into my skin. His hand came up, fingers tangling in my hair, and he jerked my head back, arching my spine. The pain was sharp, a flash of white behind my eyes, but it only made my pussy clench around him.I bit my lip, refusing to give him the satisfaction of a moan. But my body was a traitor—every nerve screamed for more, for harder, for that knot to finally pop inside me and fill me with his seed. I hated the need, but it was there, hot and wet

Seraphina’s POV I lie in the bed, the sheets cool against my bare legs, the cotton of the T-shirt soft on my skin, a borrowed comfort that does nothing to quiet the thrum of my nerves, the way every rustle of fabric, every creak of the pack house settling, makes me freeze and listen for his footsteps, for the low growl of his voice that I both dread and crave with a sickness that coils deep in my gut, a sickness that has taken root in my very bones, and I hate myself for it, hate the way my thighs press together without my permission, the way the slick heat between them refuses to cool even after that long, scalding shower, even after I scrubbed every trace of him from my skin, as if his scent, his seed, his claim could be washed away so easily—as if my own body hadn’t already memorized the shape of him, the weight of him, the brutal, relentless rhythm of his hips, and now, now that I am alone in this beautiful cage, the silence is louder than any scream, and the emptiness inside me

Darius’s POV The rhythm of her sleep-fucked body beneath me is a song I could listen to for eternity, the soft, unconscious sounds she makes as I move inside her, the way her pussy clenches and releases in a slow, lazy dance that matches the pace I have set, the way her breath hitches when I push deeper, the way her fingers curl into the sheets as if even in her dreams she is holding on to something, holding on to me, and I feel a possessive satisfaction that is almost religious, a devotion to this moment, to this woman, to the bond that grows stronger with every thrust, every beat of our hearts, every mingled breath. I move slowly, deliberately, savoring the heat of her, the tightness of her, the way her body welcomes me even as her mind rebels. I think about the first time I took her, the interrogation, the way she fought me, clawed at me, bit me. I bled for her, and I enjoyed it, enjoyed the pain she gave me because it meant she was alive, meant she was strong, meant she was wo