Potemkin

“Beg me to lick you, malysh.” There was no way in hell I’d beg him. But that was until his finger slid into my pussy, stretching me at a deliciously slow curl. “Please.” I whimpered, trembling. “Say it like you mean it, baby.” “Lick me, please,” I panted. It was hard not to with the way his finger was curling inside me, hitting my g-spot repeatedly. °•°•°• Do you crave men who dominate every room they walk into? Men who won’t hesitate to destroy anyone who dares threaten what’s theirs? Men as lethal as they are possessive, yet drop to their knees for the one woman who sets their cold hearts on fire? Meet the Kings of the Bratva—ruthless, dangerous, and utterly unstoppable. From brutal assassins to stolen brides, these stories will drag you into a world of forbidden love, raw passion, and unrelenting danger. Arranged marriages, deadly betrayals, and second chances that will shatter your soul—these men live by their own rules, and their women? They’re the ones bold enough to break them. Love isn’t soft here—it’s a war, a fire that consumes everything in its path. These men will fight, kill, and burn for the ones they claim. The Kings of the Bratva don’t just promise passion—they deliver obsession. Are you ready to meet them?

Anya Petrova has always lived life her way—strong, fearless, and in control. But when she’s bought by Viktor Romanov, the most dangerous man in Moscow, everything changes. He says he owns her now, but Anya has never been one to bow to anyone. Viktor wants more than her obedience—he wants her to give in to him completely. But Anya is not the kind of woman to back down, and the tension between them is as dangerous as it is irresistible. Viktor is used to getting his way, and Anya’s defiance only makes him want her more. But she’s not someone he can easily control. The more she fights, the deeper Viktor falls, and soon, what started as a battle for power becomes something much more dangerous. But Viktor doesn’t know everything—Anya has secrets even more dangerous than his own. As desire clashes with control, they’re drawn into a world of secrets, betrayal, and a passion they can’t deny. But with enemies everywhere, trusting each other might be the most dangerous risk of all. Warning: Mature content, blood, fights, and explosions.

On our eighth anniversary, Claire Young announced that she had already registered her marriage with her childhood friend. She took him home, ordering me around as if it was only natural. "Move to another room. Stan loves sunshine." "Stan doesn't like sweets, so don't bake any when you're at home. He'd be upset if he saw it." I kept quiet through it all and bought a ticket to leave. My friend wanted to help me out of the predicament, but she didn't think it was a big deal. "He's just being dramatic again. Let him be—he'd be caving in just a few days." Everyone laughed at that, and quietly made bets as to when I'd come crawling back to Claire's feet. None of them knew I was already inducted into the national weapons program, and that I was really leaving.

"I had enough of this toxicity!" she yelled at him. "I'm a toxic man, lyubov and I would like to be with you in a toxic relationship and stay happy rather than to be in a healthy relationship and become unhappy for the rest of our lives." he rasped in her ear making chill ran down her spine. "But I don't want all of this. I want peace in my life." she said disagreeing with him. "I can't help in it lyubov, you have to bear it even if you like it or not." he smirked at her. *** What will happen when Rooh Sharma an Indian college girl will stumble into Mikhail Igor Gorbachev the Russian mafia's life. The both are poles apart and have their own principles. Who will change whom or will they end up together or not?

One bitter breakup, one nasty, impulsive decision, a few hours in a secret club, and a mystery lover is all it takes for Tamara Yevgeniy's life to go to shit. — Bold and sassy Tamara Yevgeniy is plagued by a severe cramping for the longest time now, and is evading the doctors. It would be fine if it was just the cramps bothering her, but her boyfriend of three years, Viktor Kozlov is not being understanding of her situation and is demanding for his rights in bed. And when Viktor moves on with a new girl, she's left heartbroken. In the heat of the moment and heartbreak, Tamara stops at a secret club for a night of drinks and fun to escape her misery. Thick, velvet curtains, no names exchanged, no consequences. Until he walks in. Sergei Sidorov. The most dangerous crime lord in the city. Tamara knows she should walk away. Sergei is dangerous and would bring her nothing but trouble. But within these club walls, he's hers even if it's just for a fleeting moment. Hers to touch. Hers to taste. And hers to love. But nothing is ever that easy. And when Tamara finds out she's pregnant for him one month later, she's faced with an impossible choice. Reveal her identity to Sergei and get destroyed? Or run away, like she should have done in the first place, and take the secret to her grave?

My father died of esophageal cancer. For the final two years of his life, he could barely swallow anything. By the time he passed, he was nothing but skin and bones. The first New Year after his death, he came to my mother in a dream. "I'm starving," he said. "I just want to taste the thick-cut steak you used to make." My mother believed it without question. That very day, she pan-seared a large platter of steak and carried it to his grave. The next morning, she suffered a sudden heart attack and died on the spot. Devastated, I handled my mother's funeral together with my husband. That same night, my husband dreamed of my father as well. "Chester," he said, "I haven't eaten in so long. I want your pâté, served with some strong liquor." When my husband woke up, he bought the finest liver pâté, opened a bottle of single-malt whiskey, and went straight to the grave. However, not long after returning home, he collapsed from acute liver failure. He was rushed to the ICU and died three days later. I was on the brink of collapse myself. I left my daughter in the care of a close friend while I tried to handle the endless wave of tragedy. That evening, my daughter never came home from school. I searched everywhere, and finally, on the road to the cemetery, I found her. She was clutching a bowl of spicy stew, several grilled sausages floating in the broth. "Mom," she said, "Grandpa and I used to eat this all the time. I dreamed he said he was hungry." I finally lost it. I knocked the bowl from her hands and carried her home. That night, my father appeared in my dream once more. "I suffered so much while alive," he said. "Have some pity on me. "New Year's is coming. I want to come home for a meal. Make sure you cook fish." I woke in terror. Holding my daughter, I sat before the three framed portraits for two full days without eating or drinking. On New Year's morning, I realized she was no longer breathing. Clutched tightly in her hand was a packet of spicy dried salmon. I could not believe it. When I opened my eyes again, I was back on the day my mother, her eyes red with worry, said she was going out to buy steak.