How Does Johnny Rotten Reflect On His Punk Legacy Today?

"That's it, baby girl. Take Daddy's cock like the good little slut you are." My boyfriend's father had me bent over his desk, hand wrapped around my throat, splitting me open with his thick cock while my boyfriend was on the line. * * * Forget what you know about love stories. This is a fucking raw, no-filter plunge into the depraved fantasies you only jerk off to when you're home alone. This collection is your VIP pass to the kind of filth that leaves you shaking—where powerful bosses bend you over their desks' and depraved strangers use your holes in dirty alleyways before vanishing into the night. We're talking about the kind of raw, pulse-pounding taboo that gets you off: forbidden age gaps, rough, messy gangbangs, public throat-fucking that steals your voice, and first times that leave you gaping, dripping, and ruined for anyone else. Consider this your final warning. This is explicit, vulgar, and engineered to soak your panties. If you can't handle stories drenched in choking, rough anal, non-con/dub-con kinks, and filthy-mouthed sluts who beg to be used like the cum-dumpsters they are, close this book now. But if you're ready to get utterly wrecked—if you're craving that full-body, mind-melting, vibrator-on-high kind of climax that leaves you a boneless, dripping mess... Your next orgasm is waiting. Turn the page. We promise you'll be a good girl for us.

Raw and Ruined: Short Erotic Sins Step into a world where desire doesn’t ask permission and shame is just foreplay. Several merciless, sweat-slick stories that don’t seduce—they take. No slow burns. No sweet nothings. Just skin slapping skin, nails carving lines down backs, mouths full, thighs trembling, and the kind of orgasms that make your vision white out and your voice break. These stories are greedy. They bruise. They stain sheets and memories. They leave teeth marks and handprints and the delicious ache of being used exactly the way you secretly always wanted. These are not love stories. These are lust stories. Short. Sharp. Unapologetic. And they will leave you throbbing, aching, and reaching for someone—or something—to ruin you next. Raw and Ruined: Short Erotic Sins Because sometimes the dirtiest thing you can do… is let yourself be devoured.

Alessia Berlusconi works at a bar in Rome. She thinks she escaped her past but one day after work she almost gets kidnapped if it wasn't for Johnny who happens to be there saving her from the men. Johnny Gravano the Mafia king who is a womanizer and dangerous. He will kill anyone who gets in his way, he always gets what he wants. When he meets Alessia after saving her he thinks their paths won't cross again but as fate has it the two of them meet again.. He thinks she works for the Russian Mafia and Alessia thinks his sent to take her back to her monsters she's been running from... Will they overcome their past fears and move on or will they let their past control their future?

After being released from my three-year sentence, Zoe Sanders finally found me in an underground fight club. The moment she saw me, she grabbed me by the collar and punched me across the face, her eyes burning red with fury. "Henry Goldman, who gave you the nerve to disappear like this? "And what the hell have you done to yourself?" I wiped the blood from the corner of my mouth and laughed carelessly. "One punch, one hundred thousand. "If you’re still angry, feel free to keep going. I could use the money for this year’s rent." Her fists trembled uncontrollably, but her voice softened. "Come home with me... apologize to Ronald Green. "He’s always been kind-hearted. He already forgave you for framing him." Her gaze swept over the scars covering my body, something unreadable flickering in her eyes. "Look at yourself. Covered in blood like this... what’s the difference between you and a stray dog digging through garbage?" My body stiffened. Then I turned and walked away. What she did not know was this: In prison, blood and violence were the only ways I learned to survive. "Don’t forget," she shouted after me, "I’m still your fiancée!" My footsteps stopped. How could I forget? Three years ago, on the night of our engagement, Ronald drugged me and sent me to a black-market auction. I was stripped of all dignity and sold like merchandise. That night, I became the laughingstock of the entire city. And the person who signed the papers that sold me… was my fiancée herself.

While Lawton Daniels was abroad fighting to protect his country, someone slaughtered most of what was left of his family. Now he’s back state side and all that’s keeping him standing after the destruction he’d come home to face is the vengeance that strums in his blood. He has no time for entanglements of any kind while he hunts down the ones responsible and when the bedraggled little urchin dragged her beat to shit ass into his yard he had no idea the havoc she was about to wreak on his life.Anarchist is created by Jordan Silver, an eGlobal Creative Publishing signed author.

The second day after I was transferred back to Los Angeles, I ran into someone I used to know on a street corner. She stepped right in front of me, eyes going wide. “Mia? Mia Rossi? Why would you come back now? Dante's marrying Camille at the cathedral in a week.” Dante was my first love, and also the youngest heir to a mafia dynasty on this side of the Atlantic. He'd made me a promise once: that he'd make the entire Moretti family kneel and welcome me in. We had a deal: the day he officially took over as Don would be the day he married me. But his family had other plans. They arranged a match for him: Camille, a princess from one of Sicily's five great families. Pure bloodline, the genuine article. At first, Dante swore up and down she meant nothing to him. Less than nothing. Then I started noticing how he looked at her. Softer every time. Like he was falling. One night, riding home after a shift at the bar, Camille's car came out of nowhere and took me down. The gas tank caught, and half the block reeked of burning rubber and scorched metal. I was pinned under the wreckage, blood seeping from the back of my skull down my neck, warm at first, then cold. Dante was the first one there. He beat the ambulance. The first thing he did was walk past me. He crouched down, lifted Camille out of the passenger seat, and didn't look at me once, just dropped a few words over his shoulder: “I already called an ambulance. Hang tight. Camille's had too much to drink. I need to get her home.” That was the moment I was done with him. Completely, finally done. While he was gone, I discharged myself. I bought the farthest plane ticket I could find that same night and left without looking back. Five years passed. “Mia, you have no idea.” The woman grabbed my wrist, dropping her voice. “Dante spent years turning half of Europe upside down looking for you. You came back at the right time. He still keeps a seat for you every month on his birthday. Camille's too proud for a lot of things,