Chrysanthemum Hand Tattoo

How can you fight for your love when it is not legal? How can you hold his hand in public and hug him to show how much you love him, when your relationship is secret? When your love ones is in a relationship with someone who is so close to you?

The night I have my bonding ceremony with the Alpha, Walter Zimmer, he gets drunk even though he usually never touches any alcohol. Just as I'm at a loss for what to do, my best friend, Rose Larson, sends me a message detailing how to take care of a drunken werewolf. Despite feeling doubtful, I do as she suggests, and Walter truly does fall asleep peacefully. Just as I'm about to thank Rose, Walter suddenly hugs me from behind. His hot breath brushes against my neck as he murmurs a sentence that utterly breaks my heart. "Rose, you're the one I wanted to mark…" My world crumbles around me, but that's not all. His shirt slips down his shoulder when he moves, revealing the rose tattooed right over his heart. My mind goes blank, and all I can do is stare at the tattoo. I refuse to believe what I'm seeing. I've known Rose for 20 years, and she's my closest friend. As it turns out, Walter didn't get drunk because he was overjoyed about becoming my mate. He simply used the alcohol to drown his sorrows over not being able to take the she-wolf he wanted as his Luna. In that moment, our newly formed mate bond seems like nothing but a joke. Since that's the case, I decide to give up my position as the Luna and let them be together. However, after I leave, Walter loses control and shifts into his wolf. He then claws the rose tattoo to shreds. "Lily, I was mistaken. You're the Luna I truly love. Please, give me another chance to love you again…"

Gosh! Those eyes! They were screaming cute! His masculine beauty was out of this world and he is the kind of man I’d love. The only problem I saw in him was the big tattoo on his arm that extended to his wrists. Being a typical church girl, I couldn’t end up with such a man unless I wanted to be disowned by my father. “I’d have a glass of martini, extra dirty and tacos.” He said in a dreamy gusty voice. “Coming right up” I said taking the menu list and flashed a timid smile at him. I felt my cheeks burning and if there was a mirror around here, I’d have checked how embarrassing I must be looking. My face must have definitely turned pink. I watched him as he ate gracefully without looking elsewhere, his eyes were fixed on his phone. His short brown hair was to die for, I instantly wished I could run my fingers through them. Too bad, I might not be the kind of woman he wants; it wouldn't hurt to have sinful fantasies. He suddenly looked towards me, maybe he must have noticed I had my eyes on him all along. Immediately he locked eyes with mine, I looked elsewhere pretending to looking for something that wasn’t missing. I could tell he gave a faint smile but kept sipping his drink slowly, as he was gazing at his phone. He gave a signal to come and get his bill and I walked gracefully to him. God! I wish he could just take me to bed. Oops! I’m a church girl and shouldn’t be thinking of things like that. “You should take a picture of me, it will last longer.” He said in a baritone voice.

His dick continued pounding into her. He had gone harder, stretching her even more. She couldn't help but moan. This sound had him losing his mind. He went even faster, his finger stuck in her hair. "Fuck!" He cursed as his breathing turned rapid. His hand went down to spread her legs apart as she tried closing them, not being to take all he was giving her. "Don't close them!" He said between grunts. His hand went to play with her clit. It had turned swollen. With each thrust, his hand went in a circle on her. His rough fingers were soft on her, going soft but at the same time, hard. He knew his techniques. Her legs began shaking more as she was on edge. She was ready to cum. Her eyes rolled to the back of her head as she began to drool slightly. His thrust remained in pace soon her walls began to tighten. She was near. " Oh yes!" She screamed as she came hard on his dick. She tried catching her breath, short of air from their sex. Quickly, he rolled over and she ended up on top. His dick was still inside her, hard and twisting. That was when it hit her, he hadn't had his release but she still asked. "What are you doing?" "We aren't done yet. You are going to ride me, hard and fast."

My back hits the cold glass of the penthouse window, the city glittering a thousand feet below us. Sebastian’s hand is at my throat—not tight enough to hurt, but enough to remind me who I belong to. “You were talking to him,” he says, voice low, dangerous. His other hand is braced beside my head, caging me in. “You smiled.” “It was just—” “Don’t lie to me, Ocean.” His thumb brushes the hollow of my throat, and my pulse jumps so hard he feels it. “You’re mine. Every glance. Every breath. Every inch of you.” I should be furious. I should tell him I’m not his property. But then his mouth is on mine—rough, consuming, tasting like the whiskey he hasn’t let go of since the gala. I moan before I can stop myself. That’s all the permission he needs. His hand slides to my waist, fingers digging in as if he’s afraid I’ll vanish. The heat between us ignites like dry kindling. It’s dangerous. It’s too much. It’s everything. When he finally pulls back, his eyes are dark enough to drown in. “One year,” he murmurs. “That was the deal. But you… you’re making me want forever.” And in that moment, I know the worst truth of all— If Sebastian Velez decides to keep me, I won’t even try to run.

Agatha Simon, a lady with a heavy burden on her shoulders, made a life-altering decision by signing a contract that would change her fate forever. Her father's debt had become an insurmountable obstacle, and in order to pay it off, she agreed to become a slave. However, this agreement came with a catch - the only way to break free from her enslavement was to seduce the one and only billionaire, Lanceil Grim. As she embarked on her mission, Agatha found herself caught in a web of conflicting emotions. On the one hand, she was determined to succeed and gain her freedom. On the other hand, she couldn't help but feel drawn to Lanceil's charm and charisma. As their relationship deepened, Agatha found herself struggling to balance her desire for him with her need for independence. Could she really pull off such a daring feat and escape the clutches of her contract if love and lust interfered? The stakes were high, and failure was not an option.

"I will reject you," Kahlan cried, "I, Kahlan Kye of pack Crest, reject Alpha Eric as my mate." "No! " Eric screamed, " You can't do this to me!" " No yeah, she already did, " Hardin came from behind and wrapped a hand around Kahlan's waist. Eric Creed was framed by Kahlan for killing her parents. He was her mate but she hated him the moment she discovered the truth about the death of her pack. Every one of her pack was annihilated except for her and her stepsister who wanted Alpha Eric for herself . She doesn't care anyway, since she doesn't even want him. She was however bent on avenging. However, lies were waiting to unfold. What will Kahlan do when she discovers that the hand she took was actually the one responsible for the death of her family. And Alpha Eric was innocent. However, she had already rejected Eric

His hand slipped beneath my dress, fingers teasing, testing. My breath stuttered as he dragged his lips over my throat, his voice a rough whisper against my skin. “You’re soaked for me,” Hades murmured, his other hand tightening around my waist. “I could take you right here, make you forget everything but my name.” I clenched my thighs around him, desperate for relief. “You already do.” His low chuckle sent a shiver down my spine. “Then let me remind you.” — The Lycan King is cruel, dangerous, and utterly captivating. But to Davina, he is also temptation incarnate—the one man who can unravel her with a touch. As war looms and enemies close in, their passion becomes both their greatest strength and their deepest weakness. Because in a world where power is everything, loving him might just be her downfall.

“No! Please, Santiago--” I whimpered, as his hand seized my wrist with an iron grip, yanking me forward, dragging me effortlessly toward the chair he had pulled into the center of the room the night before. The symbol of my humiliation. He stopped right in front of the chair, spinning me around, facing him. "You want me to be your monster, mi ángel?" His hand grabbed my throat, tilting my chin up until my eyes locked with his dark gaze. I flinched from the sudden movement. "Cause I’ll be your favorite monster — just say the word, cariño." Santiago’s face hovered only inches from mine. His lips so close, I could taste the sweetness of his breath — once making butterflies take flight in my stomach, now curdling my insides into a cold, suffocating fear. Slowly, his free hand rose toward my face. I held my breath. His touch was deceptively soft and gentle, caressing my cheek. His thumb lingered against my lips, tracing them slowly, his eyes fixed there as he spoke — his voice soft, yet heavy with menace. "Divorce is not an option, mi amor. We took a vow five years ago. Remember?" He finally lifted his gaze to meet mine, catching every flicker of fear before he delivered his last words like a verdict: "Till death do us part."

After I came back to life, the first thing I did was hand that five-carat diamond ring—yes, the one my husband gave me—to his mother. The very woman who spent years picking me apart like it was her favorite pastime. In my last life, that ring was a custom New Year's gift. He paid a ridiculous amount for it. I actually thought it meant something. One afternoon, I was out shopping when I walked right into a bridal party taking pictures. The bride glanced at my hand, saw the ring, and her entire expression changed. She stormed over and slapped me, accusing me of being a shameless mistress trying to steal her man. I stood there, completely stunned. She was wearing the exact same ring. Before I could explain, her friends grabbed me. They dragged me aside, tore my clothes, hit me, and stomped on my hand until I couldn't move my fingers. They carved the word "mistress" into my face and paraded me through the street like some kind of public disgrace. I died there on the pavement. When my husband finally appeared, he didn't fight for me. He just signed off on a settlement, as if my life were nothing more than a piece of paperwork. Widowed that morning, married to the bride by nightfall. His mother instantly welcomed the new woman, all because she was pregnant. And then I opened my eyes again… back on the very day he first placed that diamond ring in my hand.