Britannic Sink

Everything quiets. Danielle's arms are thrown over my neck, her front pressed against mine, and her lips moving over mine. She's kissing me. Passionately, I might add. She's mewling against my lips and her fingers keep toying with the hair at my nape. Suddenly, she pulls away from me, and I almost drag her back into my arms when she whispers feverishly, "Please, kiss me." That's all it takes for me to press her back into the nearest wall and sink my fingers into her silky tresses.

Some rules are meant to keep us pure. These stories spread your legs and make you beg to break them. Stepbrothers who shouldn’t touch you, but shove you against the wall and make you scream their name. Protectors who swear to guard your body, only to break every oath as they fuck you into the mattress. Strangers who taste like sin and don’t stop until you’re ruined. Masked lovers who hide their faces while they spread you open and make you beg. Even supernatural beasts who mark you, breed you, and take you raw until you’re theirs completely. This isn’t sweet romance. It is raw heat that claws, bites, and devours. Dangerous, possessive men you should run from, but instead, you’ll spread wider, sink deeper, and take every filthy drop they give you. Every page is a dare: moan louder, take more, surrender deeper. Because once you give in to the forbidden, you won’t just fall, you’ll beg to be destroyed. Welcome to your new addiction.