Is 'Playground' Based On A True Story?

Title: His Favorite Plaything (erotic short stories) Genre: Erotic Romance / Dark Romance / LGBTQ+ / Forbidden Love / Billionaire / Paranormal Blurb: No one in these pages is sane. No one is clean. And every one of them is starving for the kind of pleasure you only think about in the dark. This collection devours you, drags you beneath its surface, and leaves you raw, trembling and desperate for more. Inside, you’ll find possessive men who take obsession too far, women who crave what should break them, tangled power games that blur devotion and danger, forbidden affairs that taste like betrayal and heaven, and supernatural lovers who make surrender feel like damnation. These are the cravings you dare not admit. The ones that make you bite your lip when no one is watching. Don’t pretend you’re innocent. If a part of you aches for something darker, prepare to be consumed. Open the book. Surrender completely. Become someone’s favorite plaything… for as long as you can stand it. And remember: no one here will save you. No one will judge you. They’ll only give you exactly what you came for.

Not every fantasy is gentle. Not every desire plays by the rules. Some pleasures are dangerous. And these stories? They come with teeth. Behind closed doors and under tight sheets, women surrender to the hunger they’re not supposed to have… and the men who know exactly how to feed it. From a gynecologist who crosses the line with a patient who wants more than a check-up… To a reverend’s wife who falls for a man she sees every Sunday and sins with every chance she gets… To a virgin student who learns her first lesson in the back office of her lecturer… To a nanny who becomes the one thing her boss can’t resist… This isn’t about love. This is about lust… raw and dripping. Forbidden romance. Unholy cravings. So if you’re looking for soft kisses and fairy tale endings… Turn back now. But if you’re ready for something that makes you squirm in your seat… If you want stories you’ll replay in your head long after the last line… Then go ahead. Open the book.

On the seventh day after my daughter goes missing, I kidnap an entire kindergarten. I lock away all 27 students and two teachers in a classroom. I tell the police that if they can't find my daughter, I will kill a kid every 30 minutes. The principal falls to her knees, wailing and begging, "It's not my fault that your daughter is missing. Why should other children pay for it?" I glance at my watch. "29 minutes left. Find her." I know she's in this kindergarten.

At first, I believed that the worst thing that could happen was my father abandoning me in that store, but I was mistaken. I was kidnapped, sold, and betrayed by the only man I trusted: my father. And I was bought by Lucian Moretti, my childhood love, Luke, who I thought was gone. "Do you remember me, Jules?” His voice was velvet over steel, low, threatening, and hauntingly familiar. Julia hadn't heard Lucian Moretti's name in almost a decade, since the boy next door disappeared without a goodbye, leaving her with only a stolen summer and a thousand unsolved questions.  Now he was no longer the boy I used to know. He was Lucian Moretti, the man who had just taken control of her life.  Julia is lured into the shadows to settle a debt she never owed, and she ends up confined in the home of the city's most feared mafia don.  BCaptivity is just the beginning.  Lucian isn't just after her body; he's seeking the truth that she is unaware she is concealing. This truth has the potential to destroy his empire.  Their reunion is not nice; it is nasty.  His smile is not tender; it is poisonous.  And what games are they playing?  It concludes with one of them kneeling. But in the dark, the line between revenge and passion blurs, and Julia is unsure if she is his prisoner... or his obsession.  Lucian desires more than just retribution; he wants "her." This time, he won't let go.

WARNING: MATURE CONTENT! An EROTIC-ROMANCE story! *** Since high school, Isla Peterson, a college student, had a crush on her brother's closest friend. She wished to be noticed by the man not just as a young sister, but also as a lover. She begged her brother, Apollo, to invite him to her 18th birthday party. Because her brother adores her, he eventually agreed. She was overjoyed when her long-time crush arrived—her wish had been granted. After reaching the legal age, Isla relaxed during her after-party and assured her brother that she would only drink a little. However, she got drunk and involved herself in a situation that forever changes her life. She had sex with her long-time crush, Zero, the famed womanizer. Zero Cohen is a well-known monster in bed who prefers extreme sex over making out. He only had one rule: "keep up with his pace," and he will lavish you with joy. Zero didn't realize it was Isla he claimed that night because they were both drunk at the time. And he admits, the lady was too good for first-timers. He began to crave her body, and every time he saw her, his pet hardened and desired to delve deeper into her core. But can they really expect to go very far in this game? What if they have to face their difficulties? Will one of them give up, or will they fight? What could it bring if the playboy faces his downfall?

My adopted daughter, Phoebe Marsh, possessed an evil ability. Whenever she got hurt, the pain would also be inflicted directly on my biological daughter, Maisie Shaw. She deliberately hurt herself, covering her body with wounds and bruises. Then, she would turn around with cold eyes, watching Maisie writhe on the floor in agony until she passed out from the pain. With no medical solution available, I broke down and held Maisie close, begging my husband, Brandon Shaw, to send Phoebe away. However, he would erupt in fury. "It's obviously Maisie who's been faking illness for attention, and you're making up this ridiculous story to get rid of Phoebe. She's just a fragile, helpless child. How can you be so vicious?" After that, Phoebe escalated her self-harm even more viciously. Meanwhile, Maisie spent every day curled up in the corner of her bed, refusing to let anyone touch her. On Maisie's birthday, Phoebe threw herself from the fifth floor. Just as Maisie was blowing out her candles and making a wish, she suddenly began bleeding from all her facial orifices, and she died instantly. Yet, Phoebe only suffered minor scrapes. I died from overwhelming grief shortly after. When I opened my eyes again, I had returned to Phoebe's first day in our home. Maisie was playing with her Legos when she suddenly clutched her ankle and started crying. This time, I grabbed the broom from behind the door and swung it toward Maisie, shouting, "I'll beat you up for faking illness and seeking attention!"