How Does Cruel Seduction Summary End?

Grace Anderson is a striking young lady with a no-nonsense and inimical attitude. She barely smiles or laughs, the feeling of pure happiness has been rare to her. She has acquired so many scars and life has thought her a very valuable lesson about trust. Dean Ryan is a good looking young man with a sanguine personality. He always has a smile on his face and never fails to spread his cheerful spirit. On Grace's first day of college, the two meet in an unusual way when Dean almost runs her over with his car in front of an ice cream stand. Although the two are opposites, a friendship forms between them and as time passes by and they begin to learn a lot about each other, Grace finds herself indeed trusting him. Dean was in love with her. He loved everything about her. Every. Single. Flaw. He loved the way she always bit her lip. He loved the way his name rolled out of her mouth. He loved the way her hand fit in his like they were made for each other. He loved how much she loved ice cream. He loved how passionate she was about poetry. One could say he was obsessed. But love has to have a little bit of obsession to it, right? It wasn't all smiles and roses with both of them but the love they had for one another was reason enough to see past anything. But as every love story has a beginning, so it does an ending.

“True love stories never have endings.” Dean said softly. “Richard Bach.” I nodded. “You taught me that quote the night I kissed you for the first time.” He continued, his fingers weaving through loose hair around my face. “And I held on to that every day since.”

"You're not having me!" I snapped at his face. "Oh, my little sinner." He licked the bottom of his lips with a sinister smirk on his face. "You're already tied to my bed."

When Lola sees something she shouldn’t have, the image of her brother’s bestfriend face fucking his latest quest is forever imprinted in her mind. She can’t forget him wrapping his large hands around her neck, her soft breathy moans as he thrusted deep into her. She can’t forget the smirk that appeared on his face when he caught her, standing there and watching. But her hate for him couldn't keep her standing there. She ran... still running... But he's right behind her, doing all he could to close the pace. Give her a taste of what she fears the most.

Dylan grew up with no fear and a distaste for being controlled. He wasn't friendly nor able to humble himself. However, he had no option except to serve the arrogant and demanding son of a chairman after taking over his father's job as a personal bodyguard. Alexander wasn't satisfied with his life. His ultimate goal to seek justice for his mother's death drove him to obey his father. He was admired by most people, except the lofty bodyguard responsible for his safety. As these two individuals engage in a game of toying with one another, who will first surrender control and fall into the trap of frivolous fate? Who will succumb to the manipulation game and end up on top or bottom?

Hi lovely Readers, here's the author. Thank you for reading to the end of this book, and a new book is about to start. Enough spoilers, read on to know what happens. Don't forget to leave your comments. XoXo. "I need to come," I tell her. "Please... yes..." "Come with me..." I drop her to her back and lower myself back in position. My belly presses to hers, and her pretty little nipples feel so sweet against my chest. "I can't..." she whispers. "I'm so... fluttery..." "You can," I tell her. "I promise you, you can." I pause. "And you will. Again, Ashley. Come for me again." I rub, back and forth, my dick pinned between my stomach and her pussy, grinding hard, taking so much fucking care not to spear that tight little cunt and fill her up with my cum. "I'm gonna come all over your sweet little pussy, Ashley." "Yes..." she whispers. "Oh God, please... please, Mr. Mancini..." "Don't call me that," I growl, and I'm on the edge, right on the fucking edge. "What shall I call you?" she asks, and I hear it in her voice, I hear she's thinking it, too. It's in the little tremor, the sweet little hint of lust. My breath is erratic, my cock pulsing as my balls tighten, ready to fucking blow. And I say it. I just fucking say it. "Call me Daddy," I growl. "You can call me Daddy."