Begging For His Eyes

He was the boy that no one noticed. He was quiet, bland to the naked eye, a total wallflower who sat on the sidelines and lacked in eye contact with those around him though he had the type of eyes that made you feel like you could drown. He tried his best to blend into the background, but what he didn't know was that he was the only one that caught my eye. He was the most intriguing person I had ever laid eyes on even though he couldn't see me. He couldn't see anything.

Tate flirts with danger the same way he flirts with men. Recklessly. So when his father’s debts land him in the hands of Enzo Moretti, a cold-blooded mafia boss with a smile as sharp as his threats, Tate should be terrified. Instead, he flirts harder, hiding sharp eyes behind thick glasses like he doesn’t see the monster watching him. But he does. He always did. Enzo is no ordinary criminal. He’s a werewolf with a body built to break, a past soaked in blood, and a temper barely kept in check. Tate is supposed to be collateral—silent, obedient, forgotten. But Tate? He’s loud, shameless, stubborn enough to make Enzo feel. For months, they circle each other—clashing, teasing, burning. Enzo should’ve killed him, but instead, he steals him. Holds him. Breaks him open until their craving for each other twists between punishment and pleasure, until need feels like worship, and pain starts to taste like love. Then, when Tate thinks he’s escaped, when he thinks he’s free—Enzo lets him go. When someone else tries to take what’s already his, Enzo doesn’t hesitate. He drags Tate back, and now the boy wears his name, carries his ring, and sleeps in his bed. Maybe Tate should hate him. But he doesn’t. Because he never wanted gentle. He never wanted safe. He wanted this—blinding, consuming desire. And Enzo? He doesn’t let go. Not when he’s tasted him. Marked him. Owned him. Because monsters like him don’t share. Not even with their own blood.

He is blind and has the money. She is poor and has eyes. Both are perfect together on their quest for revenge, which brought them into the turmoil of lust, love, and hate. *** Leonardo pulled Angela's arms hard and said, "You will serve me and do my wish." He then tore her dress. "This is a wrong move, Mr. Vera." Angela twisted her wrist from Leonardo's grip, but Leonardo's strength remained intact and overpowering; he instead made her a prisoner in his arms and then pinned her on the wall. She was almost , with only her lingerie covering her and below. And he touched her face, down to her neck, her . Angela's hatred escalated with his touch, and she struggled, but he persisted in taming her, dragging and pinning her to his bed. His weight over her made her immobile. And she remembered her gun in her bag and reached out for it at the side of the bed, as Leo’s hand grasped her other hand and pinned it above her head. He was blind, but he knew what he was going to do. A little voice in Angela’s mind screamed, "KILL HIM!" as she grasped the gun in one hand.

In the fifth year of my marriage to Jordan West, he cheats on me with a blind woman. She's young, pretty, and demure. Jordan scours the best hospitals in the country to treat her eyes. In the end, he fixes his gaze on me and tells me he wants me to donate my corneas to her. "They're just a pair of eyes, Hazel. Please help her. Can you really stand by and watch as she withers away?"

⚠️ Contains emotionally intense and mature themes. (R 18+) "Look at me, Hazel." Diego approached, his breath burning Hazel's ear. "I only ask for one thing... beg me." Hazel shook her head, her knees trembling. "No... you can't—" Diego smiled faintly, darkly, full of triumph. "If you beg... I will never let you go." Hazel Anne Quinn, 24 years old — a small-time journalist who no one takes seriously. Living a mediocre life, abandoned since birth, and writing erotica as a ghostwriter at night to survive. No one ever wanted Hazel... until Diego Ronan Blake appeared. A senior actor and tycoon at 34, a man who makes the world bow down and causes women to fight to be his. But Diego becomes obsessed with the one woman who avoids him — Hazel's grayish-green eyes, filled with fear yet a hint of defiance, make Diego lose control. For Diego, Hazel isn't a fantasy — she is a necessity. He wants Hazel as his, body and soul, and this obsession drives him to tear down the walls that have protected Hazel, only to rebuild them with himself at the center. Hazel can be afraid, can hate, can resist... but as long as she doesn't beg, Diego will never stop. Because once Hazel gives in — even just once — Diego will never let her go.

My husband, William Yore, falls off his horse on our wedding night and damages his eyesight. For the next three years, I become his eyes. I read official documents for him, identify medicinal herbs, and test the roads on snowy nights. One day, bandits attack Cohill Church. When one of them swings a blade at us, I reflexively shield William with my own body. However, William circles me and lunges at the bandit who's grabbing Nancy Jenning's sleeve. "Close your eyes, Nancy!" He uses his own sword to deflect the bandit's knife before pulling Nancy into his arms, leaving me to collapse into the snow. "You can see, Will?" Nancy asks, her voice trembling. "Then why did you make Julia support you when you're walking, read your documents, and test your medicines on herself for the past three years? Why did you hide this from her?" William looks down and wipes the snow from her face before calmly saying, "She's too bossy. She bombards me with questions with every step that I take, asking if I can see, if I'm hurting, or if I'm tired. I just want some peace and quiet. I was going to tell her after she stopped bothering me." A few snowflakes land on my eyelashes. The cold stings my eyes. I suddenly think about how I hold William's hand every time it snows. I'm scared of him falling down and getting cold. I'm scared that he can't see the snowy paths. But it turns out that William can see everything. He's just unwilling to look at me.