Arms Are Open Wide Lyrics

“Fuck me harder, baby—drill my tight little hole!” she gasped, nails clawing down his shoulders. Kai growled low, hips snapping brutally, his thick cock stretching her wide with every punishing thrust. “Take it all, you dirty girl—feel me pounding your wet cunt till you scream,” he rasped, his hand gripping her throat just enough to make her eyes roll back. #SteamyRomance, #Erotica, #ForbiddenLove, #HateToLove, #OfficeRomance, #Spicy, #Adult, #DirtySeries, #Billionaire, #ExesReunion, #OneNightStand, #EnemiesToLovers

"Shut up and take all our cocks, pretty slut." Three cocks stuffed inside me at once — one buried in my pussy so deep, one stretching my ass wide enough to make me scream, one choking my throat until spit pours down my chin and pools between my tits. ⚠ WARNING ⚠ This book is filthy. Not cute-spicy-chapter filthy. Cum-dripping-from-every-hole-on-the-first-page filthy. If that makes you uncomfortable, close the book. If you're already clenching, keep reading. Throw away every safe, sweet romance you've ever touched. This collection doesn't ask permission. It kicks the door down, drags you to the floor by your hair, and fucks you raw until you forget your own name. No slow burn. No boring buildup. No fade-to-black bullshit. Every story starts fast, hits hard, and doesn't stop until she's stuffed, stretched, dripping, and begging for more. Stepbrothers and stepfathers who fuck her while mommy sleeps, strict professors who fuck their grade A students, Hockey team players who pass her and breed her, dangerous men who settle debts with every hole, Alphas who knot her and lock their cum so deep it stays till the next day. Every dirty, forbidden dynamic you've been too embarrassed to search for — it's in here. These stories explore your darkest kinks. Choking. Breeding. Gangbangs. BDSM. Double penetration. Knotting. Degradation. Praise kink. Wax play. Face slapping. Spitting. Creampies. Cum on her face, in her throat, leaking from every hole. Raw, unprotected, no-pulling-out sex. If the thought of being held down, stretched open, and filled until cum is running down your thighs makes you squeeze your legs together — You're exactly where you belong. Turn the page. Your men are waiting. And they're starving.

In the middle of a lively night, can you guess what's about to come? In the middle of the busy street, do you realize there is something in the dump? Shane Hoseinzade was peacefully sleeping on the floor when three conservative, loud knocks echoed inside. Would he open the door? On the other side, someone wearing a black cloak and holding a giant scythe is standing on the doorstep. With head bowed down, a pair of mismatched eyes glowed while staring at the door. Patiently waiting for the target to open the door. If you hear three violent knocks on your door at exactly midnight, would you dare to open the door? But what if those violent knocks are the knocks of the person you promised to marry in the future? Death? A grim reaper? A demon? Whoever it is, are you ready to face your fears?

"Spread your fucking legs for Daddy…" The moment those growled words hit my ears, my thighs trembled, going weak at the knees. I swallowed hard, my throat dry with envy, aching to be the one spread wide and commanded by that deep, dominant voice. Heat flooded my core, soaking my panties with slick arousal, my pussy clenching desperately around nothing. Like the foolish, needy girl I was, I nudged the door open just a crack, peeking into the dim light of his bedroom to see who he was claiming on that massive bed. But shock slammed into me—Alpha Kane wasn't with anyone else. He lounged against the headboard, his massive hand wrapped around his thick, veined cock, stroking it slow and firm while his piercing eyes locked on a spread of my photos scattered across the sheets. Pictures of me in innocent poses, but the way he pumped his shaft, pre-cum beading at the tip and dripping down his length, turned them filthy in his gaze. **** I'd been just ten when rogues tore through our pack in a brutal war, slaughtering my parents and leaving me orphaned in the blood-soaked ruins. Alpha Kane Laskovic had charged in like a storm, ripping through the attackers with savage fury, saving me and the survivors. He became my guardian, my armored knight, pulling me from the ashes and raising me under his powerful protection. I was supposed to call him Dad—respectful, safe. Not Daddy, not while fantasizing about him pinning me down, growling filthy commands as he fucked me raw, claiming every inch of my body as his. But gods, I couldn't stop. The taboo hunger burned too hot, making me crave his cum flooding my womb, marking me as his forbidden little slut.

Before the SATs, everyone had filled in their dream colleges they'd like to apply to. Now that the results were out, my boyfriend, Sheldon Miller, and many of my classmates had successfully gotten into Astraeus University, which happens to be their dream university. In order to celebrate the success, Sheldon's childhood friend, Winnie Frost, decided to invite Sheldon and the classmates over to the tattoo parlor her family ran for celebratory tattoos. I grabbed Sheldon's hand and reminded him that students in aviation majors weren't allowed to have tattoos of their own, only to get slapped by him instead. The classmates around me even started mocking me relentlessly. "Just how shameless are you, Cassandra? Sheldon and Winnie are the actual childhood friends here! You don't want him to get a tattoo at her family's parlor out of jealousy, right?" I was so pissed that I could feel a headache coming. For the sake of Sheldon's future, I forcibly dragged him away. But what I didn't expect was that Winnie would secretly carry two barrels of gas to my residence. Just like that, she set my residence ablaze. That fire ended up killing my parents and me. Sheldon and our classmates even forged Winnie's alibi just so they could wash her off the police's suspicion. When I open my eyes again, I've returned to the day Sheldon is about to walk into Winnie's tattoo parlor. Sheldon shakes my hand off ruthlessly and begins berating me angrily. "Aren't you just being jealous because Winnie and I are close to each other? I'll have you know that not only do I want to get a tattoo with Winnie, but I also want to have her name tattooed on my body!" This time, I just flash a wide smile at him. "Go on, then. You'd better have her name tattooed on an obvious spot."

During an ambush, I risked everything to save Matthew, but in doing so, I lost the ability to stand—my legs were permanently damaged. Matthew was devastated. Holding me close, he swore he would love me forever and never betray me. Overwhelmed with emotion, I agreed to marry him. In secret, I sought medical treatment, and after a long, gruelling journey, the day finally came when the doctor told me I could walk again. Overjoyed, I rushed home, eager to share the incredible news with him. However, the moment I pushed open the door, my world collapsed. Matthew was fooling around with his female assistant—right there in our home. On our bed. Wrapped in each other's arms, they kissed passionately, completely lost in the moment. As things heated up, the woman gazed at him and murmured, "Matt, why don't you just leave that cripple? She can't satisfy you at all." "Don't you love the thrill of sneaking around? It wouldn't be nearly as exciting if I left her." A wave of icy rage surged through me. So that was what our marriage meant to him—nothing more than a twisted game, a joke between him and his mistress. Drained and heartbroken, I turned and walked out. That night, I booked a flight back to my hometown. I was done with this city. Let Matthew live with his regret.

The night before my due date, a pack of rogues kidnapped my Alpha mate, Louis Ross. To save him, I traded myself. The rogues swarm with excitement when they had me, tearing off my clothes and growling filthy words into my ears. Ripping open my belly, they tore my pup to pieces. I reach out to Louis through our mind-link, only for him not to answer. … When it was over, he held me in his arms, crying as he vowed to slaughter every last rogue for what they had done to me and our pup. I heard his Betta chatting with him before I lost consciousness. "Mr. Ross, you looked so impressive. I would have been fooled if I hadn't known it was all an act. Don't you think you're going too far by letting a pack of rogues violate your Luna just so you could marry Ms. Amanda? She was carrying your pup..." "Only Amanda will be my Luna. I had to ruin Jody's reputation to justify stripping her of that title. The pup? I never intended to let it be born." My wolf let out a cry so raw it felt like the sky shattered. The mate whom I loved and protected with everything? He loved my stepsister, Amanda Singleton. Even our pup was nothing more than a sacrifice for her.

"I was in the hospital for 7 days, 7 whole days, and not even once did you come to see me. Yet you have the time to have sex with my cousin? My own cousin, Nicholas!" She was furious, her anger evident in her voice. "Well, it's a good thing you caught us. At least this, I believe, will help you move on." He leaned on the side of the door with his arms folded across his chest as he stared at Jessica. Her mouth gaped open; she couldn't believe what she was hearing. Had he really broken up with her the way he did because of her cousin? Jessica, a beautiful 26-year-old surgeon, experiences a life-altering accident on her wedding day, shattering her world. She wakes up in the hospital to discover severe injuries, but worst of all, her hand has been impaired due to the accident. As if that weren't enough, her fiancé broke up with her. What will happen when she enters into a contract marriage with a man bent on helping her seek revenge on her ex-fiancé, a man her fiancé has also wronged? What will happen when she finds out her accident was orchestrated by someone? What will occur when her ex-fiancé suddenly realizes he made a mistake and is determined to win her back? Will she return to him or exact her cold revenge? Find out in this thrilling romantic novel, "Revenge Against My Ex-Fiancé."

Wendy Lloyd's first love, Hudson Clark, treats me like a walking blood bank. Because of that, I end up dying in the rented apartment Wendy has given to me out of contemptuous pity. Today is the third day of my death. My six-year-old son, Terry Heath, finally realizes that something is wrong with me. When he accidentally cuts his finger from playing with his toys, I don't coax him at all. When he tears open a pack of cookies and feeds one to me, I don't stop him at all. When he lies in my arms and grips me by the hem of my shirt while calling out to me softly, I don't respond to him at all. Feeling rather uneasy, Terry finds my phone and calls Wendy. "Mommy, why is Daddy still asleep?" Wendy responds by sending a photo of her and Hudson enjoying a holiday feast together. She then says coldly, "He's just asleep, not dead. Today is Christmas Eve, so I'm very busy right now. "Tell that arrogant father of yours that he's only free to visit me whenever he's ready to acknowledge his mistakes." After that, the call ends. Terry is left feeling stunned for a long time. Finally, he digs out the last cookie from the trash can and snaps it in half. Then, he feeds it to me again. "Daddy, let's eat."

So this is how the mate bond feels. A rush of energy, a pull like gravity tightening around us, and an almost maddening awareness of the other person. I wasn’t about to let it sway me though. Sure, the man in front of me is ridiculously perfect, but I wasn’t some love-struck fool who’d drop everything at the first spark of fate. I had a life, plans, and a fiancé waiting for me upstairs. I raised an eyebrow, forcing myself to stay calm even as my heart raced. “Take a number and get in line, sweetheart,” I said coolly, flashing the engagement ring on my finger in front of his gray eyes. “I’m otherwise occupied right now.” …Five years later, when I pushed the door open, my mate remained motionless on a leather couch, his piercing gaze boring into me with a cold detachment that sent shivers down my spine. He leaned back, the casualness of the gesture at odds with the intensity in his eyes. His arms rested lazily on the backrest, but there was nothing relaxed about him. His body was coiled tight, like a predator ready to pounce, and the air between us crackled with tension. “Is my number finally up?” he asks, his tone laced with bitter amusement. “My dear mate.” The words sting, but I can’t deny the truth in them. He is my last chance.