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Chubby librarian Sera accidentally awakens the ancient Dragon King Vaelor. Snatched to his mountain hoard, the powerful dragon becomes obsessed with her soft belly, heavy breasts, thick thighs, and plump curves. He worships every inch of her body with raw hunger, refusing to let her go. Torn between her missing family and the dragon’s possessive touch, Sera must decide — escape the beast… or surrender to the pleasure of being his perfect chubby treasure.

A diverse collection of short romantic stories and erotica to fulfill your fantasies. THIS BOOK IS INTENDED FOR 18+ AUDIENCE ONLY!

My cold-blooded Mafia boss, Don Cassius, tore my painting to shreds. Right in front of everyone. I needed to vent. I texted a picture of my legs in fishnets to my dark web sugar daddy. [Wanna be stepped on by your Mistress? Stroke it for me. Now.] I looked up. Cassius—usually an untouchable iceberg in a bespoke suit—swallowed hard. His ears flushed a dark red. Curious, I sneaked a peek at his phone. My photo. My filthy command. Both flashing on his screen. Holy shit. Ice shot through my veins. My stupid fucking thumb slipped... and hit the video call button.

Power. Possession. No mercy. An arrogant billionaire CEO blackmails his reluctant secretary into late-night “overtime,” bending him over the desk and ruthlessly breeding his tight hole until he’s shaking and dripping with cum. Two rival athletes turn hate into raw, aggressive shower sex, slamming into each other until one submits and gets claimed against the tiles. A dangerous mafia don kidnaps his enemy’s son and becomes obsessed with breaking him, knotting him deep and filling him night after night. A strict professor punishes his top student with “extra credit”, spanking, deep-throating, and pounding him senseless across the lecture hall. Best friends cross the ultimate line when one begs for “practice,” only to end up getting railed bareback again and again, stretched wide and addicted to his roommate’s thick cock. Every story explodes with filthy heat: possessive alphas, power imbalance, taboo cravings, enemies-to-lovers, first-time awakenings, breeding, overstimulation, and rough claiming that leaves bodies wrecked and holes leaking. 35 scorching M/M tales. Zero limits. Total surrender. Lock your door, because once you dive in, your hand won’t stop moving.

By the time I return home from a business trip, it is past midnight. However, my wife, Celeste Beaumont, isn't home. A man's shirt that isn't mine is lying on the couch. When I call her, she tells me that she's working late at the office. "Whose shirt is it on the couch?" I ask, cutting straight to the point. She playfully scolds, "Who else would it be? It's a gift for you, so hurry up and try it on." I skeptically put it on and immediately feel how tight and uncomfortable it is across my shoulders. "This is an L, babe. I've always worn XL." Celeste runs a clothing company. She's the one who handles all my clothes and even uses my body measurements for her menswear line. There's no way she doesn't know my size. The line goes quiet for half a second before she thoughtfully says, "It's from my new menswear collection. "I had pieces custom-made for you and Felix, so I must've grabbed the wrong piece. I'll swap it tomorrow." A beat later, her voice carries a little sob as she continues, "Babe, I've been so exhausted without you these past few days. I've missed you so much…" It's past midnight. As I listen to the undeniable weariness beneath her affectionate, playful words, my heart aches in distress. I can't help chiding myself for overthinking. However, after hanging up, realization hits me. Her brother, Felix Beaumont, and I are about the same build. He's always worn XL.

"Hey, what's your laptop's specs?" My colleague, Dexter Grant, pushes my laptop back to me with a deep frown on his face. I'm busy editing my blueprints, so I respond to him without lifting my head. "It's the latest model. The motherboard is i7 12-Gen, and I have a 64-GB ram installed in it. What's wrong?" "That's impossible!" Dexter shakes his head. "All I did was open Photoshop earlier, and yet the laptop was stuck for three whole minutes! Not even my own laptop, which has lasted me for three years, is as slow as yours! "Also, there are scratch marks left behind by a screwdriver on your laptop's casing. It's clear that someone has cracked your case in the past before installing it back on." My heart sinks at Dexter's observations. I quickly flip over my laptop and take a look at it. It's true that there are two fresh scratches near the laptop's vent. The edge of the casing was slightly jutted upward as well. The sight leaves me shell-shocked. The thing is, my laptop was still fine when my cousin, Joe Clinton, borrowed it from me three months ago…