Where Does 'Cry Or Better Yet Beg' Appear In The Story?

For three years, Tamsin Ward believed her marriage was unbreakable. That illusion shatters the moment her husband’s best friend, Isla Parker, returns and quietly begins inserting herself into everything Tamsin once thought was hers. By the time Tamsin realizes what’s happening, her marriage already feels impossible to stay in. When Tamsin asks for a divorce, her husband, James Whitmore is blindsided. He refuses, insisting that he cannot live without her. Desperate and cornered, Tamsin seeks out the most powerful divorce attorney in the country. What she doesn’t expect is to come face-to-face with Leo Price, the first man she ever loved, and the one who vanished from her life without explanation. Tamsin wants nothing to do with Leo. But James and his powerful family leave her no choice. Leo agrees to take her case under one condition: she must date him for three months. No secrets. No distance. No pretending the past never happened. As James tightens his grip and old feelings resurface, Tamsin finds herself trapped between the man who refuses to let her go and the man who once walked away.

This book contains hot mature explicit scenes. Read at your own risk! After her parents were brutally murdered, Aria was stolen away and groomed by a ruthless mafia lord-trained to be both a lethal assassin and a nymphomaniac sex doll. She has only one mission: revenge. She'll smile. She'll kneel. She'll obey. She'll play the perfect submissive... until the day she finds the man responsible for their deaths- and makes him bleed. But everything shatters when she finds herself defenseless in the arms of her enemy. No matter how much she fights, hates, or resists-he won't let her go. And worse... She's not allowed to die. She can scream. She can cry. Hell-she can even beg. But she will always be his. His to own. His to claim. His to break. This book is strictly 18+ and contains dark romance elements.

“But I have lifted my voice in pain to pray to you too. Am I irrelevant? I have done that since I was born. Do I not matter? Do the gods segregate as well?” “Feisty…” he replied, but before he could continue, I glanced at the edge of the cliff for a second, then turned back to him and smiled. “I refuse to be useful to these people you love so much. Even in my death,” I said as I jumped off the cliff. It was the beginning of my complicated fate with the gods and the end of my suffering with werewolves.

From as far back as I can remember, I knew my mom hated me. She gives me sleeping pills when I'm three. When I'm five, she tries pesticide instead. But I'm hard to get rid of. By the time I'm seven, I've already learned how to fight back. If she refuses to give me food, I flip the table so no one can eat either. If she beats me up until I'm on the ground, writhing in pain, I go after her beloved son the same way, leaving him bruised and bawling. That's how we stay locked in battle until I turn 12. Everything changes when my youngest sister is born. I'm clumsily trying to help with her wet diaper when Mom suddenly shoves me against the wall. The look in her eyes holds both disgust and fear. "What were you trying to do to my daughter? I knew it. You take after that monster of a father. Why didn't you just die with him?" I hold my aching head. For the first time, I don't fight back. I believe she's right. My existence is a mistake. I should never have been alive.

I should step back. But I don’t. His hand slides to my waist, firm, deliberate. Not asking. Claiming. My stomach tightens, heat curling low, and I feel every inch of him before I even see him. He’s behind me, close enough that I can feel his breath at my neck. My pulse stutters as his fingers trace slow, unhurried circles up my back, and I know I should pull away… but I can’t. His lips brush my neck. Not a kiss yet, just the promise of it. My head tilts back before I can stop myself, back arching like my body is betraying me. Then he speaks. Low, calm, in control “Don’t make a sound.” A shiver runs through me. Not from fear. Not exactly. From… him. He’s in control. I can’t fight it. I don’t want to. And somewhere deep inside, I realize the terrifying truth: I’m letting him have me.

My boyfriend came from a wealthy family. We had been together for seven years, yet he had never given me a single gift. When he proposed, he even asked for the diamond ring back so he could return it for a refund. Later, when we were about to register our marriage, he complained that the paperwork fee was too expensive and said it wasn’t necessary. However, not long after that, he registered his marriage with his childhood sweetheart instead. He even booked the most luxurious hotel in the entire city, eager to throw a grand engagement party. The shock was too much for my grandmother, and she suffered a heart attack. I dropped to my knees and begged my boyfriend to return the salary I had entrusted to him over the years, as I needed the money to pay for my grandmother’s surgery. He simply wrapped his arm around his childhood sweetheart and pretended not to know me. He said he would never help a lazy beggar who only knew how to freeload. Then, he ordered the security guards to throw me out. Later, my grandmother died on New Year’s Eve, her final breaths drowned out by the sound of fireworks outside. While everyone else celebrated the holiday season, I handled my grandmother’s funeral alone. At the same time, I accepted a job offer from a major overseas company. When I returned home to get my passport, the man—who had just finished introducing his sweetheart to his parents and was clearly in a good mood—saw me and assumed I was still throwing a tantrum. For the first time, he spoke generously. “Alright. What could possibly have happened to your grandmother? At worst, I’ll make it up to you with a luxurious wedding.” What he didn’t know was that from the moment my grandmother took her last breath, I no longer wanted to marry him.