Brush Strokes

I knock on the door, heart pounding like it always does when I’m about to see him. “Come in,” Justin’s voice calls—cool, smooth, and frustratingly calm. I take a deep breath and walk in, holding the folder tightly. “Here’s the report you requested, sir.” He doesn’t even glance at me. Just keeps typing, his expression unreadable. “You’re late,” he says without missing a beat. I clench my jaw. “There was a delay at the printer—” “No excuses, Joanna. Just do better next time.” Ouch. Professional and cold. As always. I nod, ignoring the sting in my chest. “Yes, sir.” I turn to leave, gripping the doorknob—just one more second and I’ll be out of this weird tension-filled office— “Wait.” I freeze. I turn around slowly. “Yes?” Justin stands now, walking toward me. In his hand, a familiar brown paper bag. He holds it out. “You didn’t have lunch.” I blink. “I’m fine.” “You skipped breakfast too. Eat.” I hesitate. “What is it?” “Chicken pesto. No onions.” My breath catches. He still remembers? “Why are you doing this?” I ask quietly. He shrugs, not meeting my eyes. “I just… remember things.” My fingers brush his as I take the bag. Warmth. Stupid warmth that shouldn’t still feel this familiar. Then, he looks at me—really looks at me. “You shouldn’t skip meals… wife.” Silence. My chest tightens. “Don’t call me that.” But my voice is too soft to sound convincing. I walk out before I say something I’ll regret. His words echo in my mind like a dangerous lullaby. Cold one second. Kilig the next. God… he’s still him. And that’s exactly the problem.

“You think you can tame an old daddy like me?” Mr. Domenico Lombardi’s stone-like voice makes me nervous, but I’m not backing down; I know what I want. “Yes,” I added a nod to confirm it but cursed internally at my luck. I’ve never had a boyfriend, and here I am trying to tame a man old enough to be my father. It is said that the apple does not fall far from the tree. I guess I am truly Kate’s daughter. I had an internal laugh at my stupidity. He scoffed, and I responded by nodding once more while watching the darkening of the silvery gray pupils in his eyes. How come? I brush it off as his cold eyes wash over me. Domenico Lombardi’s presence makes me squirm. When I’m around him, I get the impression that I’m being judged and ignored at every turn. “How old are you?” “18” “How old is your father?” “38,” I replied truthfully. “Well, I’m 37 years old.” He stared at me; his eyes darkened again, and I became terrified. I fiddle with my nails, clipping them together as I lean back on my heels to help relieve some of the anxiety he’s causing me. “You see, I’m like a father to you, or maybe a grandfather or a great-great-grandfather. How many boyfriends have you had in your life?” “None.” He chuckled as I responded. “You see, I’ve lost count of how many ladies I’ve fucked, thousands or millions, over the centuries. You are just a little girl to me with nothing to offer; now, get lost!” “My panties made you hard!” “You think so?” “Yes,” I responded confidently. “Well, I wasn’t hard; I just have a donkey-like cock.”

“I should’ve known you weren’t as reckless as me,” he says quietly. “You’re Elliot’s little girl after all.” “I’m not a little girl,” I snap. “I’m twenty-five.” “And I’m almost twice your age, Natalie,” he says, almost like he’s giving up. “But that didn’t stop you from coming to me.” In a second, he has me pinned against the wall. His hands trails up the sides of my body. “Do you want me to stop?” he whispers, his breath hot against my neck. “I waited for you that night,” I whisper, my hand sliding up his chest. “I imagined us doing all the things you implied you’d do.” He groans softly, a low, guttural sound that vibrates through his chest. “Did you touch yourself?” he asks in a whisper, his eyes closed. My other hand moves lower, trailing down his body until I brush against the hard evidence of his desire. I feel his breath hitch, and I smirk, knowing what I’m doing to him. “Yeah, but it was your hands I was feeling.” On the brink of her second wedding anniversary, Natalie Jones uncovers a devastating betrayal—her husband, Michael Cooper, embraced passionately with his mistress. Confronting him in a dimly lit restaurant, Nat exposes his scheme to marry her for her father’s fortune and storms out, her heart shattered but her resolve unbroken. Ric Steward, on the other hand — billionaire and philanthropist — never expected his evening to ignite with scandal. When he sees Natalie—radiant, powerful, and on the edge of a breakdown—he’s immediately captivated. Their fiery, forbidden attraction is challenged when Ric learns she’s the daughter of a longtime friend. But that doesn’t stop Nat. It only makes her want Ric more…

A moan of pure pleasure escapes my mouth and he nips my lower lip, sending shock waves through my body. Pushing me onto my back, he continues to devour me - nipping at the skin along my neck and running his hand over the fabric covering my breasts. Heat builds up between my legs as I feel him harden against my thigh. I bite my lower lip and instinctively raise my hips against him. He moans and takes my face in his large hands. "Look at me. If we continue any further I'm not going to be able to stop myself. If we mate I will mark you and you'll be mine forever." He says slowly, the words penetrating the fog clouding my brain. "Is this what you want?" My body screams yes, but my mind forces me to be rational. "Not yet, eventually but not yet." I admit, running my hands through his hair. He sighs, disappointment evident before he rests his head on my chest. "I don't want you to get hurt by our matebond." I eventually say. "What do you mean?" He asks. I lift his hand and place it on my thigh, letting his fingers brush against the scars. "Kane told me that when you're mated, you feel everything your mate feels… I don't want that. I don't want you to feel if I die. " *** Natalia has spent the last ten years living in isolation, scarred from witnessing the massacre of her parents, she believes that the mate bond and love are a weakness she never wants to experience - even when confronted with her very own mate. Unfortunately for her, Liam, Alpha of the Dark Moon Pack has no plan on letting her go. Will succumbing to him save her, or will it be her ultimate doom?

I put my t-shirt down, my hands shaking. I try to ignore them and stare at my reflection in the mirror. My hair color is dark brown and a vague hint of golden. My dad used to say that my eyes are ocean blue. A guy in my history cl once said that I had perfect s. Another guy said that I had a great body. They wanted to date me. And I dated few of them. I brush my fingers in my forehead. Then my dark, thick eyelashes. The side of my nose. My s. I run my hand at my neck, then across my collarbone. Am I beautiful? Honestly, I don't know. Maybe I'm not. "You were wrong, Angelina Valentine." A voice inside my head suddenly whispers. "Calm down, Angel," another voice whispers. It's the voice I loved. His voice is fading away. My hands start shake again, my breath rapidly quickening. I am losing control. I have to do something. "Goddammit!" I punch the mirror with my fist. It shatters into thousand pieces. My reflection has shattered into thousand pieces, too. The mirror now looks to me like an art. And my bloody knuckles. "I am sorry, Edwin. I can't promise you anymore, because you left me." I bite my to stop myself from crying. I won't cry. What's the point of crying? My sixth sense is suddenly alert. Somebody is watching me. I spin around. A guy is standing in front of the door, leaning against it. He wears a tight blue shirt, the sleeves folded. His black hair is ruffled and his hands are folded across his chest. The probable most amazing thing about him is his eyes. They are dark green. They are dangerous, beautiful and incredibly unreadable. And they are watching me.

"Please," I whisper as his teeth graze my neck, my body betraying every promise I made to keep him at a distance. "We can't—" "Can't?" His laugh is dark, dangerous. "Your wolf is screaming for me, Fin. I can smell how much you want this." His hands pin my wrists above my head, his body pressing mine against the wall. "Tell me to stop. Tell me you don't dream about my hands on your skin, my mark on your throat." His lips brush my ear, voice rough with need. "Tell me, and I'll walk away. But we both know you're tired of denying what's between us." Finley Bennett never expected to be Alpha of Forest Trails pack. But when her brother refuses the role, she's determined to prove a female can lead - even if it means burying her broken heart. Because the one wolf who was supposed to be her perfect match chose another, leaving her with nothing but duty to cling to. When Mountain Ridge's powerful Alpha arrives to discuss border threats, his sudden marking of her as his mate offers a second chance at happiness. But fate isn't finished testing her yet. Another cruel rejection leaves her wondering if she's destined to lead alone. As mysterious attacks threaten pack lands and ancient magic stirs, Finley must navigate pack politics, unseen enemies, and the return of her first mate. But something darker lurks beneath the surface - a hidden enemy whose manipulation could cost her everything she's fought to protect. With her territory under siege and her heart torn between two wolves who rejected her, Finley must decide: can she trust fate's choice a third time? Or will opening her heart again destroy everything she's built?

"Help me tighten this?" Her voice trembles as she turns her bare back to the doorway. Calloused fingers brush her spine – but it’s not her stepmother. It’s Asher Voss, SU’s star quarterback and her new stepbrother, smirking in the mirror， "Next time you mistake me for Mom..." His breath scorches her ear. "...I’ll leave a real mark." To survive the sweltering New York summer before college, Wendy Wu makes a deal with Asher: Act like strangers once school starts. He’ll remain the untouchable quarterback; she’ll be just another exchange student. No eye contact. No acknowledgement. Ever. But when her father’s long hauls and her stepmother’s busy schedule force Asher into babysitting duty, the lines blur: In the kitchen, he catches her weeping over a shelter documentary and lifts her against his sweat-drenched chest. Garage doors rattle open – his grip tightens: "Hold on. Unless you want them to see you like this." At a party, her friend spots a cherry hair tie on his wrist before he drags her into a dark hallway: "You didn’t want to see me?" His whiskey-laced kiss brands her lips. "Yet your eyes undressed me all night." In a restaurant, a rival girl glares through the window. He traps Wendy’s thigh under the table， "Call me ‘brother’ and I’ll save you."  Their secret collapses. Wendy ends it, and he freezes her out in public， "Do I know you?" Until a rain-lashed night when Ahser, drenched and desperate, pins her to the wall， "Don’t tell me you do not regret the breakup" His teeth find her collarbone. "I have to admit it-- I miss you." Can a love forged in stolen touches survive the spotlight? Or will their step-sibling bond shatter them both?

"I'm 44, you're 18," he whispered softly, his lips grazing my nipple, hot breath sending shivers down my spine as his tongue flicked out, teasing the hardened peak. "I don't care!" I shot back amidst breathy moans, my fingers tangling in his dark hair, pressing his head deeper into my boobs, arching my back to feed him more. "I'm your mum's husband. I'm your stepdad, old enough to be your real dad," he murmured again, his right hand tracing, torturous path down my trembling stomach, dipping between my thighs to brush against my soaked panties. "I said I don't care!!!" I growled, grabbing his wrist and forcing his fingers faster. "Fuck the age, fuck the rules, make me yours!" ______ Adrian Blackwood, the hottest, most dangerously sexy beast I've ever laid eyes on turns out to be my stepfather. You heard that right, my mum's husband! The man who could make me wet with just a single stare, with his towering muscles, tattooed arms, and those piercing gray eyes that strip me bare. One ride in his SUV and I want a real ride. I'm just 18 in college, but he's 44, old enough to be my dad? Who the hell cares! As long as he pins me down, and wrecks me with pleasure that leaves me begging, I'll sin with him every damn night. Taboo? Bring it on. ‘Sinfully Yours, Step Daddy!’ is a boundary smashing blaze you can't read in public or alone (unless you're ready to touch yourself nonstop). Dive into Ava with Stepdad, professor, step dad's best friend, the sugar doctor, Ava's unapologetic slut era, craving daddies. Walk in horny, walk out dripping satisfied. Grab it now, your panties or boxers won't survive! Steamy age gap taboo romance packed with dominance that'll have you screaming for more.