Akudama Drive Courier Novels & Stories

At the company team-building event, I got called out by my colleague Samantha Rowler for not removing my price tag—she accused me of being a "freebie chaser." "Oh wow, Carla, you drive a BMW 5 Series. Are you seriously planning to return your clothes within seven days too?" she sneered. I tucked the tag back in and ignored her snide remark. But after the event, as soon as I got home, my phone started blowing up. My chat apps were going insane. A friend had sent me a link: [Luxury-Car Executive Turns Out to Be a Return Addict!] Someone had filmed me leaving the price tag on and posted it to a short-video platform. I opened the comment section and was met with a barrage of insults. [Can't afford to live, huh? Tag warrior.] [Is this car a sugar-daddy gift? Those who know, know.] [OMG, does this woman have some kind of illness? Which brand is this so I can avoid it!] I immediately knew Samantha was behind it. I messaged her to delete the video. Instead, the next second, she blocked me—and pinned a comment to the top of the thread: [You can know a person's face but never their heart!] I was about to post a statement to clarify, my finger hovering over the send button, when I noticed the video's likes had already shot past ten thousand. I laughed. If they wanted a scene, fine—let's make it bigger. I quickly posted a new update: [The outfit is really nice. I'll wear it again next time.] The netizens erupted. The insults doubled, the heat skyrocketed, and the post shot straight to number one trending. I just put my phone down and went to sleep.

“Amara Cross, are you trying to drive me insane? I agree to go to a club and find you swaying like a pro whore, throwing your ass at hungry eyes, and you are proud of it too.” His grip crushed my arms, sharp and painful. My hand slipped between my thighs, pressing hard, pain mixing with heat, and he did not notice. But when he saw my bloodshot eyes, he let out a hot, frustrated breath. “Amara, are you drunk?” I nodded, confused. Tears spilled like a flood, driven by that brutal pulse burning deep inside me. “Dean Dorian, I am very drunk.” His eyes widened. Then they darkened even more. “What nonsense are you saying, little girl? What did you take to end up like this?” I was shaking. A soft moan escaped me as my fingers pressed harder. I could not hold it in anymore. I covered my mouth, then dropped my hand, speaking to him in miserable pleasure. “Dean Dorian, touch me.” I whispered it, begging. His eyes, drowned in darkness, searched my face like a man looking for salvation. Everything stopped when his hand settled on the back of my head. He leaned in and crushed his mouth against mine, hungry and savage. ------------------- Amara Cross did not enter university looking for love. She entered to survive. A quiet scholarship student with no one behind her, carrying a fragile past, dreaming of one thing only. Safety. But on a dark night, on a road with no mercy, a man saves her. A man who was never supposed to be part of her life. Dorian Vale. The university dean. Powerful. Cold. Controlling. Dangerous. What starts as silent rescue turns into attention. Then protection. Then obsession with no rules. He knows everything. Watches her. Decides for her.

Alexis Diaz is a sales representative who attends a conference at a hotel in a remote area. While attending a reception, she meets a mysterious and charming billionaire named Max, who is a werewolf. They are both attracted to each other and share a passionate one-night stand. The next morning, Alexis leaves without saying goodbye, feeling overwhelmed by her emotions. Max realizes Alexis could be his mate, as he was drunk and doesn’tremember whether or not he marked her. The details of the night are fuzzy except he realizes his drink might have been laced by an aphrodisiac for mates. He only remembers her honey/ginger hair Alexis goes through some roughening emotions/changes(heat intolerance/heightened sex drive including sex dreams about the mysterious stranger) but eventually gets used to it, she also gets a new scar in the place she thought she had a hickey that refuses to go. A month or two later, Alexis is sent to pitch her company's product to Max's business. When Max sees her again, he realizes that he can't forget about her and feels drawn to her, she feels the mark on her neck burning as she feels and undeniable sexual tension between them. During the meeting, Max and Alexis try to maintain a professional demeanor as they are with others but the chemistry between them explodes the moment they are alone. Alexis runs away again. Max searches for her and finds her this time around at her workplace where he realizes he can hear two heartbeats. What happens when Alexis decide to runaway? How would Alexis handle the truth of her existence? How would Max save his pack without losing the most important part of his life, Alexis and their baby? Find out in this intriguing story, Alpha's girl.

On the night of my sister’s engagement party, my life officially crashes. Again. All because of one name on the invitation. Zachary de Sanctis. My sister’s fiancé. Fiona. My ex, the guy I punched in the face five years ago. Heir to the richest old-money family in Europe. And one tiny detail only God and I know: he’s the father of my twins. For the past five years, I’ve been hiding out in a little town in Oregon, working as the CEO of a IT firm while chasing two four-year-olds who look more like their father than me. Isaac and Isabella: two mini De Sanctis clones with the last name Gómez, razor-sharp mouths, brains that run too fast, and a talent for causing trouble exactly when I need peace. My family knows I came home pregnant and alone. They just never asked who the father is, and I never offered an answer. As far as they’re concerned, I’m still Arabella Gómez, the wild one who lost her way. I thought going to Fiona’s engagement party would just mean a few hours of fake laughing, then a quiet drive back to my glass-walled house in Oregon and two sets of blue eyes calling me Mommy. Until Zach walks into my parents’ living room holding Fiona’s hand… and his gaze stays on my face a little too long. He can’t find out about Isaac and Isabella. Fiona can’t find out her perfect fiancé was mine first. And my family can’t know what really happened five years ago. Hiding a scandal between two rich dynasties is one thing. Hiding two chaotic twins who are basically their father’s face copy-pasted? That’s the real nightmare.

Love…. You could lose yourself in it or find yourself. It all depends on you. Jealousy…. It drives one to the edge of madness. It paralyzes the mind, and drains the heart, damaging the soul. It teaches you what it takes to care. That's what their relationship was made up of. His eyes made her shiver with pleasure, it took her to euphoria. That's what she felt whenever she was with him, but not every day was sunshine and rainbows. He made her cry, he made her feel pain. He taught her the real definition of love; pleasure and pain. She liked how cold and rough he could get and he liked how innocent she played. He liked teaching her new things and she liked learning from the best. They'd survive the intoxication of each other. They made it further than they thought they would on the grounds of love, jealousy and pain. "What are you looking at?” he asked looking in the direction she was looking, “So... That's your type, huh?" he whispered in her ear with his hand on her thigh, clearly pissed. Siana moved away slightly from his warm breathe blasting on her face and his hand squeezing her thigh firmly. "Everyone out now!" he shouted then a smile came bursting through it all. She was alone shaking with fear and anxiety. She knew how he'd get whenever he was displeased, she knew the kind of psycho he was. He pulled her up from the chair and pushed her up against the wall, her hands enfolded in his and her breath breaking. He looked down then back up at her with a tiring look on his face and sighed "You know you really drive me crazy." his lips hovering over hers.

I'm Kate Bamford, and I'm an EA (Executive Assistant), and I've just started a new job with - quite honestly the most gorgeous man I've ever set eyes on. This is a shame because men - gorgeous, sexy, or otherwise are completely off my radar! I can blame my ex for that, he's a controlling, miserable PoS! Weeks of being told what I can and cannot do would drive anyone to murder. Oops! The less said about that the better. No, I didn't stick a knife in his black petrified heart, but I did cause him major humiliation, which, thinking about it might have been even worse. My big worry is I have a secret, and the last thing I need is for my ex or anyone else to find out. Nobody will rescue me if my secret gets out. I'm Darius Graves, CEO of Graves and Son. I have a big problem, it concerns my mother - a matriarchal socialite who lives 3,461 miles away from me in New York. It's not far enough! My 'dearest' mother thinks nothing of getting into her private jet and popping over to see me in London as if she's going to the corner shop for a pint of milk. The thing is, she wants me to get married, but only to a girl she chooses. There is not a snowball's chance in hell of this ever happening. No way. No how. My two best friends are always coming up with various solutions to this problem. i.e. Sell the bank, or keep the bank and work from home in Katmandu. However, their latest idea is a fake marriage. But to whom? I can only think of one person, and that is my new assistant. She's beautiful and thinking about her keeps me awake at night.

BLURB "You drive me insane, Carla!" He growled, hoisting me on the desk. His lips brushed my jaw and my breath quickened when he slipped his fingers underneath my red dress. "Fuck, you are not wearing panties," He groaned, gripping my thighs possessively. I was filled with an unnerving amount of neediness and I had my fingers working on his belt in no time. "God, just fuck me already." I moaned, peering at him beneath my lashes. He muttered profanities under his breath, lifted me a little, and plunged into me swiftly. "Fuck!" I moaned, wrapping my legs around him to get more of what he was offering as he pounded into me, burying his head into my neck. "Mine!" He growled into my neck. ༆ Carla Jason and Dawson Walcott were the definitions of opposite attracts. Where Carla was naive—prim, innocent, and not ladylike, Dawson was the typical ruthless fuck-boy, who chased after anything in a skirt, especially the sexy ones. All his life, he had always hoped to meet his mate at his coronation ceremony of being the next Alpha of the Red Moon Pack, which was coming up in a few days but fate had other plans in store. Carla had walked in on him fucking another omega and she wasn't just a random omega to him. She was the omega he had always been in love with. Worse, she turned out to be his mate. Dawson knew how difficult it would be to make her his, given his history and what she had found out about him on the day he realized she was his mate. The complications weren't about to stop Dawson from claiming what was his before her twentieth birthday but was Carla going to allow herself to be vulnerable with a playboy?

It’s Monday and my first day of my new school. I drive my car around to where everyone else is parked, so I find myself a parking spot. Then I find the front office and go in and get my schedule. My first class is math, so I walk into the room and I’m the first one in there so I walk up to the teacher and hand him my paper to sign that I have to take back to the front office this afternoon. “Hello Miss. Billie Green I’m Mrs. Smart. It’s very nice to meet you.” The math teacher says, then sings the paper. You can go find yourself a set. I would try to find one in the front on the left-hand side. The kids pretty much already have the back full.” She tells me, and really it’s okay. I kinda like the front anyway. I make my way to a seat that looks vacant and sit down. Kids start piling in about five minutes later. And walking to their seats, there’s a tiny little girl that comes and seats down behind me. She introduces herself as Shaylee Apple. “Hello Shaylee Apple I’m Billie Green.” I tell her and hold my hand out to shake hers. I turn back around in my seat about the same time as a tall guy that has dirty blonde hair cut into spikes all over, ash gray eyes, so gray I can see the color all the way in my seat. He’s wearing a tight fitted gray shirt, and blue jeans. He has a very handsome face, but then he looks at me and instantly I see hatred in his eyes. What the heck, he doesn’t even know me. .

My husband, Joseph Coleman, falls from the third floor, shatters both legs, and even injures what men fear losing most. I don't rush him to the nearest hospital. Instead, I drive him to a hospital two thousand miles away. In my previous life, Joseph jumped on purpose so the hospital intern he dotes on, Kimberly Parker, could secure a permanent spot by operating on him. He refused the capable surgeons nearby and insisted I take him to the hospital where Kimberly works, just so she can treat him. I turned him down because Kimberly is an untrained intern who got in through connections and has no surgical experience. Joseph had slapped me hard across the face. "I just want to use my injury to help Kim go permanent. Why are you being so petty?" He was dead set on Kimberly treating him. I worried the delay would ruin his legs, so I asked his mother, Diane Lowe, to talk sense into him. But what I never expected was Kimberly jumping from the hospital building when she failed her probation. Meanwhile, Joseph is treated in time, and both legs are spared. On the day he's discharged, I come smiling to take him home, but he runs me down with his car and kills me. As I collapse on the floor, choking on blood, I ask him why. He looks at me like I'm something stuck to his shoe. "If you hadn't stopped me from helping Kimberly go permanent, she never would've died!" When I open my eyes again, I'm back on the day Joseph falls and breaks his legs.

Wives are to be claimed, whores are for fucking. But me? I’m to be PLEASURED. ~~~ Chelsea Stone signed the contract expecting a cold and dead marriage. Instead she found herself collared by Dominic Hartwell – a man whose rules were written in silk restraints, leather belts, and the low growl of full command. He bound her wrists above her head and taught her that silence was no longer armor; it was foreplay. He spread her wide open on silk sheets and edged her for hours with fingers, tongue, and the thick head of his veiny cock until she was dripping, shaking, and sobbing “Please, big daddy… I’ll be good.” Only then did he drive into her deep and relentless, one hand tight around her throat, the other spanking her ass while he fucked her into shattering, screaming release. Chelsea was never meant to stay broken though, because in the darkness between punishments and praise, she began to crave more than surrender. She wanted to test him, to push and whisper filthy things against his ear while she rode his thigh, soaked and trembling: “I want to be your little cunt who shows big daddy who’s really boss.” Dominic’s eyes darkened with dangerous promise every time she dared. The more he punished her with a be*t across her, cock down her throat until tears ran down her cheeks, hands pinning her down while he claimed every inch of her. The more she burned to flip their power while he owned her body. Yet as old enemies sharpened their knives and forbidden pasts, pain and pleasure blurred until Chelsea no longer knew where submission ended and rebellion began. Would she kneel forever… OR would the quiet wife finally make her ruthless husband beg?