Are There Any Family-Friendly Jason Statham Films?

“Daddy, please don't stop..." I begged, aching for one more thick finger stretching my dripping pussy. ** There are two mistakes a girl should never make. One: comparing your daddy’s best friend’s cock to your boyfriend’s. Two: actually fucking him. I did something worse. Daddy told me to email my résumé to his best friend because I’d been jobless for months. Drunk and reckless at 2 a.m., I sent Troy Reynolds something else instead—high-definition nudes of me spreading my soaked pussy, my tits squeezed together, tongue out, and begging for his cum. I knew it was wrong. I’d wanted him since I was seventeen. But the universe handed me the match… and Troy lit the fire. He never forgets. Now he wants me. He wants me dripping with his cum, claimed, ruined, and marked with his name on every inch of my skin. He wants me crawling to him on my knees. He fucked me. Then he hired me—not as his intern, but as his personal slut. His eager whore. His favorite fucktoy and willing little plaything. And every time he buries himself deep inside me, he makes me moan the one word that seals my fate. “Daddy.” This is a box—a wicked little treasure chest overflowing with daddy kinks. K-I-N-K-S that twist and tease in the darkest corners of desire. Inside, you’ll find forbidden daddy taboo stories dripping with raw power and aching submission, where boundaries dissolve and hungry hands claim what’s theirs. This book is not suitable for all readers. It contains highly explicit scenes—100% raw sin and sex with zero plot to hide behind. Keep your tissues close… you’re going to need them. .

He wasn’t supposed to notice her. She wasn’t supposed to want him. And her daughter definitely wasn’t supposed to fall in love with him first. “He’s not just dangerous,” she whispers to herself . “He’s the kind of man who ruins your life slowly… and makes you thank him for it.” He rides loud. He loves hard. And once he wants something, he doesn’t let go. “You don’t get to look at me like that,” she tells him. His smile is slow. Predatory. Certain. “I already did,” he says. “And now you’re mine.” She’s a single mother barely holding it together. He’s a biker king with blood on his hands and loyalty carved into his bones. Their worlds should never touch. But they collide anyway. “You think I don’t know what you’re doing to me?” he growls. Her back hits the wall. His body cages her in. “You think I’d touch you if I didn’t plan to keep you?” This isn’t a sweet romance. It’s raw. Possessive. Unforgiving. The kind of love that marks you. “Mummy,” her daughter says softly, holding his hand. “Can he stay forever?” He shouldn’t want them. But the idea of leaving them hurts worse than any knife. “I don’t share,” he tells her in the dark. “Not my bike. Not my club. And definitely not my woman.” One kiss turns into hunger. One night turns into obsession. And one choice could burn everything down. “If you climb on my bike,” he warns, voice low and lethal, “you don’t get off unchanged.”

"He's my stepfather. Technically. But we have history from high school. He was my first love. My first everything." I stare at my hands because I can't look at her face while I say this. "Now he's forcing me to pole dance for him while he watches." "Watches?" "Yes." The word sticks in my throat. "He watches, touches himself and then he... marks me. Without touching me anywhere else. Just watching and then claiming me like I'm his territory." Three weeks ago, I walked out on my husband. Eleven months of rejection, of wondering what was wrong with me, of lighting candles for a man who was saving himself for my best friend. When I finally heard the truth from his own mouth, I packed one bag and I left. I thought I was starting over. Instead, I drove straight into my mother's mess. Gloria, the woman who raised chaos and called it motherhood, married a billionaire, cleaned out forty-seven million dollars from his accounts and disappeared without a word to me. Now his lawyers are at my door and I am the only thing she left behind worth collecting. My new employer is Richard Moore. Billionaire. Tycoon. The most dangerous man I have ever met. He is also the boy who took my virginity at seventeen and broke my heart in the same breath. He wants a year of service. Pole dancing, forced proximity, and all the dark things written in fine print I didn't have a lawyer to read for me. He wants to punish my mother and I'm the only punishment available. I hate him. I want to survive him. I want to get through this year with my mind and my heart intact. But what happens when surviving starts to feel a lot like wanting?

What happens when fate and chance come knocking with a blank slate, a minute after you just felt a car climb over you? Jason ignored her. He humiliated her. He let their daughter almost drown while he played father to his mistress’ child. But when Molly died, fate gave her a second chance. This time, she would no longer be the obedient wife. This time, she’ll expose him, starting with the secret that has the potential to unravel every single crafted plan: She’s carrying his best friend’s child.

He’s a single dad with a leather vest and a whole world of secrets. She’s a second-grade teacher who’s about to break all the rules. Deacon "Grim" Miller, the Sergeant-at-Arms of the Ravens MC, has only ever lived by two codes: the one for his club and the one for his daughter, Lily. He’s a man built for battle, a survivor in a world of ruthless rivalries. But at home, he’s just a father trying to give his little girl a normal life… a life she can't have because of the trauma of his past. Amelia Vance is a woman who values order, routine, and safety above all else. When she notices Lily is struggling, she’s determined to help, but the last thing she expects is to meet the child's father… a man whose presence feels like a storm she should run from. Their two worlds should never collide. He’s a danger to her well-ordered life. She’s a threat to the secrets he guards. But when a fire drill triggers Lily's deep-seated trauma and a rival gang's patch shows up in the child's pocket, Deacon is left with a choice: push Amelia away or let her in, risking everything he holds dear. To save the child they both love, they'll have to face the truth and a danger that might tear them apart forever.

My name is Gabriel Wilson, and my sister is Isabelle Wilson. Growing up, Dad runs our house by making an example out of me. In elementary school, whenever Isabelle misses a single math problem on her homework, Dad forces me to write it out a hundred times. I scribble until my fingers cramp into a knot and I can barely grip the pen, which terrifies Isabelle so much that she stops making careless mistakes altogether. During middle school, Isabelle uses her allowance to buy a ten-dollar bag of snacks for a boy she likes, and the moment Dad finds out, he slashes my monthly allowance from 1,200 dollars down to a measly 200 dollars. For the next month, I survive entirely on cheap, stale bread until I'm rushed to the ER for throwing up bile. Even so, Dad only relents when Isabelle breaks down in tears and promises never to waste another dime. When college rolls around, Isabelle insists on applying to the police academy. Dad tries to talk her out of it, but when he realizes she won't budge, he tells her, "You want to be a cop? Fine. Let me show you what real cops actually have to deal with." He wipes my social security number from the system, stages my disappearance to look like a kidnapping, and dumps me right in the middle of a serial killer's hunting ground. I spend days confined in an abandoned cabin, calling for help until my voice goes hoarse. Blood begins to pool beneath my feet as the serial killer slices my skin with a rusted blade. Back home, Isabelle frantically begs Dad for my tracker. "Dad, please!" she screams. "Just tell me where Gabriel is! I won't join the police force, okay? I'll drop the whole thing!" Even though I'm just on the other side of the wall from them, I can no longer make a sound. My soul drifts in midair as I watch Isabelle collapse onto the floor in despair, sobbing. Dad, I'm done letting you make an example out of me.