Brutal Obsession Book Series Novels & Stories

His face was a mask, calm on the surface, but I could see the storm building behind his stare. “And he told me he’d make it happen,” I said, softer now. “Jeremy promised to kill you for me. He said I deserved revenge. Or justice. Whatever he decided to call it.” Brandon’s expression had gone cold, his features hard and unreadable. That look, void of emotion, was one I hated. “I cut him off after that, because I started noticing things. I started noticing cracks in him. He wasn’t just intense. He became obsessive and possessive. There was something in him that felt wrong, even then. I knew he wasn’t safe.”

A devil that acted with cold calculation. Now it was time to show Victor why people feared me. A bottle of bourbon sat in the center, untouched. Not one of us needed it. I stood at the head of the room, spine straight despite the ache in my ribs. Harper’s fingers had ghosted over that bruise this morning, soft and hesitant. The only softness I allowed myself. “They burned my club,” I said. No ceremony. No preamble. “They wanted my attention. They have it.” Nikos, seated to my left, leaned forward. The scar across his blind eye caught the light. “Then let’s give them what they paid for,” he growled. “Fire for fire.”

Layla let out a fresh moan, her voice raspy and tired but full of desire. They spent the next hour exploring every part of her, moving from the sofa to the soft rug on the floor. Her breasts were squeezed and kissed until they were flushed red, and her thighs were bruised from the grip of their hands. She felt like a queen in the middle of her own private storm. Every time one man finished, another was ready to take his place, keeping the fire burning bright. By the time the lights in the club started to dim and the morning was close, Layla was completely spent. She lay on the floor, her hair a mess and her body glowing with the remnants of their passion. The three men sat around her, lookin

“Say… it.” His breath brushed my ear, sending a shiver down my spine as cold air kissed my bare skin, my clothes discarded somewhere on the floor. “I want you,” I gasped. “I’m yours to use, David.” I watched the arrogant smirk appear on his lips, his eyes darkening with lust. “That’s my baby boy.” He shoved the gun into my mouth, hard enough to make my jaw ache. “You like that, don’t you?” he murmured. “Like having something dangerous filling that pretty mouth of yours?”

Isabella's POV He didn’t fucking care. He started pounding me hard. Each thrust hit me deep, hitting the end of me, sending sharp pain mixed with raw pleasure through my whole body. The bed creaked loudly under us. Skin slapped loudly against wet skin. My tits bounced hard with every violent stroke. He wrapped one hand around my throat and squeezed real hard, choking me. My vision blurred at the edges as he fucked me even harder. His dark eyes stared down at me like he has been wanting to break me for a long time.

Dimitri Volkov is the Ice Prince of the Bratva—cold, calculating, and utterly untouchable. Nikolai Petrov is the Demon of the Syndicate—volatile, unpredictable, and obsessed with one thing: destroying Dimitri. For three years, their war has painted the city red. When a fragile truce is called, they meet on neutral ground at the Colosseum, an underground theater built for blood. But the meeting is a trap, and they're ambushed by a rival gang looking to take them both out. Forced to fight back-to-back to survive, they escape—barely. In the aftermath, something dark and dangerous begins to grow between them. The hatred is still there, but now it's laced with obsession, with desire, with a

It wasn't long after when I felt the cocks swell further inside me before a shaky whimper filled the space and one cock pulsed uncontrollably before the other followed after. My limp cock grew again to my utter dismay, another bout if laughter filling the room. “You learn never to steal a watch from me again, you hear me?” The familiar voice boomed but I was too weak to respond or say anything. “Mmmm” I moaned. “You like this, bitch. You fucking like when brutal males tear your shithole open and you only crave for more” he growled. I whimpered in response. “Your asshole is gaping, look at you, loose bitch” he growled, breath sharp and hissing.

I heard the chilling, clinical sound of Liliana Moretti’s voice as she confessed her insane vision for a new world order and commanded her resurrected soldier to kill his own brother. I watched the brutal, heartbreaking fight, every blow landing not just on Alessandro’s body, but on my own heart. I saw the moment the knife was at his throat, and I felt a fresh wave of terror, even though I knew he was standing right behind me, safe and warm. It was a traumatic, horrifying thing to watch, but it was necessary. It solidified my resolve, turning my fear into a cold, hard anger. This woman, this monster, had to be stopped.