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WARNING ⚠️ This book contains mature scenes of sexual conduct and erotic themes!! Cherry is a young successful blonde stripper whose world changes when she meets a wealthy Nigerian named Malcolm Balogun. He hires her to be his personal escort during his business trip and not long after, they begin to get sexually drawn to each other. Cherry's policy is to never get sexually involved with her clients but Malcolm's enigma pulls her like a magnet and his experience in the art of sexual pleasure becomes a drug that she can't get enough of.

Crimson Bloomed: Ascend Post - Apocalyptic Horror | Action | Yuri Harem | Coming - of - Age | Rated R | Mature Content | Slow Burn The city looked like it had been devoured — chewed up by fire, time, and whatever came after — then spit back out in jagged pieces. Dead drones dangled from power lines like rusted ornaments. Neon signs flickered above fractured pavement, their broken scripts glitching into gibberish. Down the block, a half - melted smartcar burned slow, casting warped shadows across the skeletal remains of a coffee bar. Behind a crumpled tram car, someone crouched low, breath tight in her lungs. The shrieking hadn’t stopped. It came again — sharp, bone-deep, the kind of sound that latched onto your spine and refused to let go. She checked the signal jammer at her hip. Still blinking. Still active. Not for long. They were tracking her. She moved fast — boots silent over broken glass, slipping through the breach in an old laundromat’s wall. Her body moved from muscle memory now: slide through, duck left, over the washer, don’t look at the corpse slumped by the dryer. Out the back. Up the fire escape. On the rooftop, she halted. Not alone. Someone was already there — silhouetted against the bleeding sunset. Combat jacket. Short - cropped hair. Pulse rifle slung casually over one shoulder like it weighed nothing. Like this was just another rooftop, just another war. “Don’t move,” the voice snapped. She lifted her hands slowly. “I’m clean.” “Everyone says that.” “Scan me.” beat. Then the girl stepped forward, rifle still raised but gaze locked in. Dark eyes, sharp, searching — not just for weapons, but tells. Fear. Lies. She lowered the rifle half an inch. “You’re lucky you’re cute.” That wasn’t the line she expected.

Every year, the village had to choose a girl of age to become the Blossom Bride. The girl who was chosen would be sent into the cave as the village god’s wife. She would spend the entire night with him. If she came out alive, she would be honored for the rest of her life as a village elder. Any child she bore was said to be blessed, destined for a life of effortless fortune. If she died, the village would simply wait for the next year, when another Blossom Bride would be chosen. The blessing of the Blossom Bride was believed to pass on to her parents and elders as well. However, no one wanted to be chosen. To escape the ritual, families quietly left the village, one after another. I was the only one who volunteered. I had a lust problem, and I had always wondered what it would feel like to be with a god.

Bring something found. Find something lost. The paradise island of Foxgrove hides a secret. It is said that a fox deity lives in the island's tallest mountain, Mt. Kitsune. At the foot of the mountain is an inn where, according to legends, one can find what they have lost if they trade something they have found, as long as the fox is pleased. Vivi is the granddaughter of the owner of the Chocolate Kiss Inn. She returns to the island with her little sister in order to help her grandmother manage their family business, when her peaceful life is suddenly disturbed by the arrival of a VIP guest. Leo, the VIP of Cottage 2, is a popular idol at the peak of his career. He visits the island to spend his vacation there and ends up getting close to Vivi. In truth, he is there in search of something. Will they ever find what they are looking for? Or will they find something equally worthwhile?

The Raikiri clan, which was famed as the most prominent military and tactical geniuses, existed since the feudal Japanese period during the reign of Minamoto Yoritomo. Bestowed with great power, the descendants of Iwasaki Senju yielded the Amaterasu, the power which awakens under emotional stress. Kenjirou Subaru was hailed as a legend for saving the clan at the tender age of six from a unit of 70 yakuza. However, all good things must come to an end eventually as the ancient Ninjutsu clan was assassinated in cold blood, probably by an external group fearful of the clan's prominence and place in modern Japanese culture. The horror of the heinous tragedy at his birthplace, the Village of Raden in Osaka rendered his mental condition unstable thus causing Izanami to go rouge. Unbeknownst to him, he ends up in Tokyo, involving in a frenzy of incidents, gathering to find the intel on the person or the organization responsible for the eradication of his people. Therefore, eking out an existence and pursuing an education. He would eventually make his way to Mitsushiba. He enrolls in high school and thus begins his quest to discover himself again. Eventually, he would be befriended by a group of students who change Subaru's view of life and show him that life this beautiful is worth living or is it really the case....

Post - Apocalyptic Horror | Action | Yuri Harem | 18+ | Rated R | Mature Content | Slow Pace It started with a kiss I don’t remember giving. A rooftop. A moan. Someone’s fingers buried in my hair like they belonged there. A mouth on my throat that said I tasted like something they lost in another life. I wasn’t dreaming. The city was already cracking beneath me. Power grids flickering like dying stars. Tech failing. Screens static. The sky bruising in strange new colors. Everyone said it was coincidence. Collapse. Noise. But I knew better. The moment I felt her breath on my skin — even if I couldn’t see her — I knew the end had already arrived. And I had something to do with it. Ten butterflies followed me after that. Not literal ones. Not always. They shimmered in my periphery. Each the wrong color. Each too vivid. Each drawn to me like heat to blood. They touched me in dreams. They watched me when I undressed. They whispered without words. I could taste their want. Some called me cursed. Broken. Unstable. But the truth is simpler. I’m blooming again — and they all feel it. They don’t love me. They remember me. They remember what I used to be — what I still am, underneath the silence. One of them burned me with just a kiss. One broke my spine with kindness. One slid her hand under my shirt like it was always hers. One cries when she touches me. One never speaks, but her eyes dig. One wants to keep me. One wants to ruin me. And one just wants to finish what we started. They think I’m choosing. I’m not. My body already did. And now the bloom inside me is turning darker.