Devout

Rose’s life has been perfectly planned out by her mother. She is to marry as a virgin to a wealthy heir, ascend the social ranks as a devout religious ambassador, and, above all, never tarnish the family’s impeccable reputation. But Rose isn’t one to follow anyone’s script. She’s writing her own story. And in one reckless night, everything goes terribly wrong. A harmless crush turns into a passionate kiss with a mysterious, older man at a club. The morning after, things take an unexpected twist. The stranger from last night is now sitting in her living room—his name is Ryan, her step-uncle. He’s moved to town for business and will be staying in her father’s house for the foreseeable future. With her mother already planning her wedding and pushing her toward a future of obedience, the last thing Rose needs is a sinfully-hot, irresistible step-uncle who defies everything her upbringing has taught her. But what if Ryan is the one temptation she can’t resist? As the undeniable attraction between them grows, Rose faces an agonizing choice: will she surrender to the forbidden desire and risk destroying her family’s legacy? Or will she cling to the life her mother has meticulously crafted for her—at the cost of her own happiness?

Hot forbidden novellas so filthy they’ll leave you soaked and ashamed. A stepdaughter bent over for her strict stepfather. A stepsister ruined by her stepbrother in a snow-ending world. A devout daughter corrupted on holy ground by her priest. Best friends’ innocent little sister ruined by the one man she shouldn't have. Brilliant student blackmailed and bred by her married professor. Every story burns with slow, agonizing tension before erupting into raw, unprotected breeding, ruthless dominance, and soul-crushing guilt that only makes them wetter. These powerful men don’t just break the rules, they destroy them... and their girls thank them with soaked thighs and whispered “please, more.” Some lines should never be crossed but these women don’t just cross the lines, they spread their legs and beg to be ruined on the other side. Because the sweetest sins aren’t the ones you hide, they’re the ones that consume you completely.

When our marriage contract expired, I found out I was pregnant. Charlie Newman’s voice was icy. "If it’s a boy, we’re even." I asked quietly, "And if it’s a girl?" He paused–then said coldly, "Then we keep trying until you give me a son." I sighed. Three years of marriage couldn’t compete with the need for an heir. However, one night, when I went downstairs for water, I saw him kneeling in the attic, eyes devout, voice trembling. "Merciful God, please grant me a daughter. If you hear my prayer and make my wish come true, I will give generously to your church and serve you faithfully all my life."

Step into the shadows where the lines between right and wrong blur into pure, pulsing pleasure… The **Raw Ecstasy Chronicles** is a sinful collection of standalone taboo erotica that dares to explore the most forbidden desires. Each scorching book drags you into a world where age gaps burn hotter, family ties twist into obsession, sacred vows shatter under lust, and power imbalances ignite the filthiest surrender. From a naughty mall elf on Santa’s lap to a grieving stepdaughter claimed in her childhood bed… from a devout parishioner tasting heaven between a nun’s thighs to a captive mafia princess spit-roasted as payment… every story drips with heart-pounding risk, breathless tension, and raw, unfiltered ecstasy. These are the lovers society condemns, the touches no one should crave, the secrets that could destroy everything—yet feel so damn good they’ll ruin you in the best way. If you’ve ever fantasized about the one person you’re not supposed to want… If “we shouldn’t” only makes you wetter… If forbidden feels like freedom… Welcome to the **Raw Ecstasy Chronicles**. One taboo at a time, we’ll set your fantasies on fire. Warning: Extremely explicit. 18+ only. Proceed at your own delicious risk.

I've been married to the prince of the underworld for ten years and have endured countless life-or-death situations by his side. My hands, once trained to play the piano, are covered in calluses from holding guns and stained with blood. But at 28, my husband ends up falling for a young woman from the slums. She's as delicate and pure as a chamomile. She's his well-kept little secret—until I run into them at the woman's prenatal appointment one day. I storm up to him, demanding an explanation, only for him to nonchalantly hand me divorce papers. "Sonia is a devout follower of the church and can't have a child before marriage. I must make an honest woman out of her. Sign these, and you'll get 40% of the company's shares." I refuse to do as told, so he corners me. In the end, he has my crippled younger brother tied up and forced under a hydraulic compression machine. "Sign the papers, Maeve, or watch your brother become a human mince pie. The choice is yours." I fall on my knees and beg him to stop. As the machine turns on, my hands fly to my aching lower belly, and I scream as I lose consciousness. When I wake up again, I'm back in the hospital, in the same spot where I ran into my husband and his mistress at her prenatal appointment. This time, I don't confront him. Overnight, I make arrangements with a sanatorium abroad, get divorced, and run away from home. Yet the moment I truly disappear, my husband loses his mind.

After the car accident, one of the Johnson sons was dead and the other gravely injured. When my devout, devoted husband woke up in the hospital, he called out, "Dorothy." He claimed that his body then held the soul of his brother, Elias Johnson. I went mad, calling doctors, priests, anyone I could, desperate to bring my husband back. It was not until that night that I overheard his conversation with our son: "Father, you've loved aunt for years. You even kept yourself chaste in your private prayer room, waiting. Now, finally, you can be with her openly." The man in the bed reached out to stroke our son's hair. "If it weren't to stop your mother from destroying her relationship, I wouldn't have married her." I hid in the shadows, still reeling from their words, when I saw what happened after our son left. The husband I had always known, icy, composed, and ascetic to maintain his devout faith for seven years, was then holding his sister-in-law close on that tiny hospital bed, sharing a warmth meant for lovers. The next day, I applied for Jim Johnson's death certificate and burned our marriage certificate. At his grand wedding, I climbed aboard the helicopter sent to fetch me. However, my once-cold husband went mad, chasing after us down several streets, desperate and unhinged.