Boiling Rock Prison Novels & Stories

Betrayed, blackmailed and forced to deceive, Adelaide has been captured. The one thing she knows, she must do anything her captor says to save her little brother. Even if that means falling in love with his son.

"Lewis, what do you want to do?" "What do I want? You are my prisoner, you must do whatever I say. If I want you to live, you live. If I want you to die, you die. You say you love me? But what have you actually done? I will never forgive you, not in a thousand lifetimes!

18+ ( Warning: Language, Violence, adult scenes etc) "I'll kill anyone who touches you, Balia." "Even yourself?" Senna's eyes narrowed. "Especially myself." - In the dark world of organized crime, loyalty is a luxury and love is a deadly game. When Balia is taken captive by ruthless mafia don Senna, their twisted relationship ignites a deadly power struggle. Will their passion be enough to overcome the secrets of their past, or will it ultimately destroy them?

"How does it feel to submit Jade, how does it feel to kneel at the feet of your owner," he asked, in a low voice that rumbled like the storm. Raising my head, I stared at him defiantly, knowing deep down that I was consciously breaking his rule and that I would be punished for it. I smirked. "It feels like I'm going to have to return the favor once I get out of here". His lips twisted into a dark smile, his eyes glowing in the darkened space as his gaze lingered on me. I couldn't move or breathe. "You're never getting out of here." Jade wanted one thing only: to become the Mafia king. Betrayed by her half-brother, she flees for her life but gets trapped in the hands of hunters until she is rescued by Dearil Vaughn, a sadist with a chaotic wolf that feeds off torture and destruction. To survive his dangerous games, she'd have to learn to submit and keep her heart in a place where his cold hands couldn't reach. It was supposed to be easy, but Dearil was much harder to resist. Jade calmed Dearil's wolf, so he was never going to let her go, especially since she was the only beacon of light in his dark world where he'd been rejected by both blood and foes... But winning her heart proves difficult, especially when the monsters within him are too hard to tame. It was war! A war with two contenders that planned to come out winners.

With Alpha Cain…there's just something with him that makes my blood boil to the hottest degree, my mind roaring with spite and disdain every time I look at him in the eyes. I often ask myself, "Am I really sure to be the Alpha's Pet or am I just looking at the fastest way to die?" Maybe I'll never know the answer. Maybe I also knew the answer already. But deep inside, one thing's for sure: I hate Alpha Cain. But I also like some part of him. And I hate that part of myself that liked the part of him. *** Anastasia is an I-don't-fucking-care type of Omega who, because she's already bruised outside and broken deep inside, just accepts whatever comes her way. But Alpha Cain somehow liked her wicked mouth. She's the only Omega who can talk back to him with enough sarcasm and wits that most of his pack members lack of. And in the tradition of most packs, whether in every year, months, or even weeks and days, the Alpha will choose among Omegas as his Pet: a more accurate term for his personal bed warmer. It is an actual title in a pack reserved to only one person, with benefits and privileges on its own. And because Anastasia accidentally became drunk the night Alpha Cain tested her skills in bed, she rode so wild and satisfied the Alpha more than he expected. And a hate-to-love, pet-to-lovers tale began to unfold.

Vanessa Brooks was the kind of woman the world bowed to. Old money. Chandeliers. Every circle worshipped her—until Julian Frost decided she was guilty. He had loved her once. Or so she believed. But when murder by jealous rage became the charge, he didn't defend her. He testified. He stood in that courtroom and watched them drag her away in chains, his eyes colder than the steel on her wrists. Three years inside. Concrete walls. Thin blankets. Fists in the dark. They broke three ribs. Split her lip so many times she forgot how to smile. The magazine-cover beauty learned to sleep with her back to the wall, one eye open. When the gates opened, Vanessa walked out with nothing but the clothes on her back and a heart too dead for hatred. She left. She buried the name Julian Frost like a corpse. But Julian wasn't done. The moment he saw her on another man's arm—a ring that wasn't his—something inside him snapped. Cold indifference curdled into obsession. He tore her engagement apart. Dragged her back. Forced a ring onto her finger and built a prison from a marriage certificate. Vanessa endured in silence. No tears. No screams. Just divorce papers, slid across his desk, again and again. The third time, Julian ripped them in half. His voice was ragged—a king reduced to begging. "Divorce? Over my dead body."

The cousins: “Oh shit yall back! We thought yall got tired of the foolishness we got going on, because we sure as shit, done got tired of the bullshit ourselves. We thought yall was gonna be quick about it, but it’s been a minute. So anyway Even though yall been gone long, I might as well tell you now, we still haven't had a chance to enjoy shit; not a damn thing. Do you know why? I can tell you why, it's because for some fucking reason supernatural motha fuckas are always mad about something. I mean they don't like nobody, all they want to do is kill folks, kidnap you, impregnate, or try an force you to be with them. Did I miss one? It don't matter you get where this is going. Now I know some of yall really wish we could get some peace some rest and some di…” “GOD DAMNIT MINA! WE HAVEN'T EVEN STARTED YET AND YOU BEING NASTY ALREADY!”

“Hmm… just looking at it like this isn’t satisfying, isn’t it? How about you and I… we touch each other?” Intimate whispers along with warm breaths hit the crook of Damian’s neck, in the next second he felt something springy kissing for a moment. Making his eyes widen. Moreover, he had to resist the temptation of the smell of blood from the body, to hide the fact that he was a vampire. The beautiful woman’s hand began to lose control, touching the curve of her beautifully formed stomach. Then smirked and sat back down, still on top. A short call came out of the mouth, immediately four men entered the room. Then they stood far behind Almeera Laurens. “Can you guys teach this guy how to make me scream?” she asked casually. Damian couldn’t close his eyes when he realized the meaning of the woman’s words. Soon, it will be her meal!

One rainy afternoon, Ezra Barlowe unexpectedly meets Shannon Christensen, a runaway heiress seeking refuge from years of abuse inflicted by her stepmother Clarisse and stepsister Karina Hillborne. Unaware of Ezra's fame and hidden billionaire status with connections to the European Mafia, Shannon turns to him for help. After seeing through her urgent needs, including medical care, the sparks between Shannon and Ezra were undeniable, leading them to end up in each other's arms and making love throughout the night. When Ezra learns about her circumstances, he then proposes a daring arrangement: Shannon becomes his contract lover for a year, agreeing to be his bedwarmer and fulfill his desires whenever, wherever, and however he pleases until their contract expires. In exchange, he will help her get revenge and retrieve her rightful place in the Christensen’s household and business. As they navigate this unconventional pact, both Shannon and Ezra slowly realize that their feelings for each other run deeper than it’s supposed to be. Amidst the family turmoil, corporate battles, crime revelations, yakuza-mafia wars, and heartfelt confessions, Ezra and Shannon's lives were anything but dull especially when they had each other to ignite their fiery passions night and day.

After my father died, the illegitimate daughter he had been raising abroad immediately returned to the country to fight me for the estate. Her name was Alma. I was his only legitimate child, and I even had a will on my side. However, I still failed to keep my rightful inheritance. My fiancé Wayne, who could command the entirety of North City with a flick of his wrist, insisted on helping Alma. He stood protectively in front of Alma’s wheelchair and asked me impatiently, “With the money I gave you, you could buy plenty of houses like that. Are you really so heartless? Why would you fight a disabled person over it?” I confronted him, my voice trembling with disbelief. “Fighting? That house is the only thing my mother left me.” In the end, Wayne helped Alma win the lawsuit. He looked at my red, swollen eyes with a trace of guilt and said, “Jocelyn, I’ll make it up to you in the future.” However, I knew then that there was no more future between us.