Who Originally Coined The Phrase 'Dung With You'?

"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.

MATURE CONTENT: This book is strictly R18+ BLURB: Excerpt: Before I could turn toward him, the ground vanished beneath my feet. Again, a startled gasp tore from my throat as he lifted me with sudden force, and in the next breath, my legs were wrapped around his waist, his hands firm on my ass like I paid him to own it too. Before words could leave my mouth he kissed me deliberately. Like he needed to stir the moment. Stir something in me. My pupils flared at the shock of his movement, my heart pounding so violently it felt as though it might break free from my chest. "I wouldn't mind helping you strip if you aren't going to do it yourself?" His voice dripped demand that felt more like a command instead of a request. Too much of an aura for a one-night stand who I never knew was the husband I feared. ~~~ How will you feel when you wake up only to discover you had been set up for an arranged marriage with a man whose stories about him made ears that heard it tingle? Afraid, devastated, angry, right? Then what will be your reaction when you find out that a one-night stand whom you had paid to stir a scandal and stop the marriage turned out to be the arranged husband you're running away from? Now I believe words can't describe your feelings. However, that was my story. He wanted me, made rules for me. Made me fight to know who he was and now even my restraint can't subdue him rather he consumed every bit of me. What will become my fate when I find out what made me afraid of him, afraid of the city was actually who I was?

The day I was awarded the highest service medal, I got a call that my grandfather had died. My superiors approved emergency leave, and I rushed straight back to the family estate without stopping. The moment I reached the hillside cemetery behind the house, what I saw snapped something inside me. Our family burial ground had been completely leveled. My parents' graves had been dug open. Their urns had been turned into flower pot bases, with dark-red roses planted right on top of them. My grandfather's coffin had been split apart. His body was left exposed in the dirt, already starting to rot. And my younger brother, Jerry Horton, who was on the autism spectrum, was being ordered around like a laborer by my husband's assistant, Digby Wolfe, hauling construction materials back and forth. I lost it. I grabbed Digby and slammed him into the ground with a hard shoulder throw. "You touched my family's graves and made my brother do manual labor. Are you trying to get buried here with them?" Digby coughed up blood as he struggled to his feet, sneering at me. "This was Mr. Gray's decision. He said your family plot is in a good location, with plenty of space. It's perfect for building a golf course for the future Mrs. Gray. In Joule, Mr. Gray is the law." His tone was icy. "And who do you think you are?" I swallowed my rage and called Marshall Gray. "I hear you run Joule," I said. "Well, I'm about to change that."

Yvonne Foster, my wife from an arranged marriage, is a control freak who loves me to her core. From business operations to the smallest details of daily life, she takes charge of everything herself. If someone dares to target me in business, their company is shut down for investigation the very next day. Women who set their sights on me always disappear without a trace. Yvonne always acts as if she can't stand me, but I know she is the kind of person who acts tough on the outside but cares deeply on the inside. This goes on until my parents find their true biological son, and I turn out to be the fake heir. The real heir, Fabian Madden, has spent his whole life in the countryside. I hear that he has an honest, simple personality. But when every bone in my body is shattered, and I'm thrown into an abandoned factory with my mouth stuffed full of blood-soaked dirt, he stares down at me haughtily. "You darn parasite living off a woman! You stole more than 20 years of wealth and privilege that should have been mine. Die! Just die already!" He buries my body in the garden and uses it to nourish a vast bed of roses as a birthday gift for Yvonne. Pointing at the sea of roses, he says ingratiatingly, "Yvonne, do you like this field of roses?"

My wife, Charlene Weber, has taken me to the Scumbag Court. If I'm found guilty, all my assets will be taken from me, and I'll face 10 years of imprisonment. Charlene, on the other hand, will get to marry her ideal man—Joel Quinlan—as she wishes. If I'm acquitted of all charges, Charlene will be made to divorce me without alimony. She'll also be cursed with bad luck and disfigured so badly she'll be the ugliest woman in the world. Conversely, I'll be given 10 million dollars in reparations and gain a lifetime's worth of good luck. Everyone is advising me to admit to my mistakes, but only because Charlene has always been a virtuous, devoted wife in their eyes. They think that there must surely be some complicated grievances between us at the moment. However, they are unaware that I've been reborn. This time, I'm going to tear off Charlene's mask of hypocrisy.

In the VIP lounge of an underground casino, Maeve, the Falcone family's princess, had been plied with too much hard liquor. Fueled by alcohol, someone goaded her into revealing the most shameless thing she'd ever done to win over the Don. She swirled her glass, pointed at me dealing cards behind the table, and threw her head back with a laugh. "Seven years ago, when Declan was in a coma after a shootout, I took his private phone. And I deleted the distress message that bitch sent him. Every last trace of it. Then I replied in his name: You're a burden. Go die." "You'll never guess what happened next. That idiot stood outside the safe house all night in a downpour, like a stray dog. I almost died laughing…" The room erupted in crude laughter. Only the man enthroned at the head of the table remained silent. The crystal whiskey glass in his hand shattered with a sharp crack. Blood mixed with the amber liquor, trickling over the veins on the back of his hand before dripping onto the carpet. His murderous, bloodshot eyes were locked on me. I calmly dealt the last hole card in front of him and offered a clean, white silk handkerchief. "Don Declan, you should wipe your hand. Blood on the felt is bad luck." After all, some stains never wash out.