Novel & Cerita Concrete Jungles

A dark and gloomy villa stood in the middle of the barren landscape, hidden from sight by a perched hedge. It was phenomenal and spectacular, but it makes it appear to have succumbed to a sullen and ominous atmosphere, both inside and out. A lanky hedge and gnarled shrubs give off the impression that the house has indeed been overlooked. The rainstorm seeping from the sewer pipes made the place appear miserable and dispirited. Needless to say, the house appeared razed to the ground and devoid of life. The house was made of rune stone that had been smeared darker in spots by downpours, sending it an insidious demeanor even during the day. The window frames were all padlocked and bricked up in steel frames and woods, as if what was inside would have been too grotesque to see, trying to give the impression that someone must have attempted to prevent something horrible from escaping. People have claimed that the residence was plagued by the witch who died there, but there has been no tangible evidence to substantiate their claims. It was even widely speculated that the villa was venomous and mowed down the leaves of trees that come into direct contact with its concrete pillars. People also construed a terrifying presumption that whoever tries to enter the house will never make it out alive because there is something inside that you would never dare to see with your very own eyes. Whatever was real or not, it was unmistakably foreshadowing, exponentially cold and savage at a hundredth of a thousand glances. A breathtaking doll sat competently on a rocking chair inside the house. Waiting complacently for someone brave and heroic enough to unravel the abominable and ghoulish mystery and paradox behind her enchanting, spine-chilling smile.

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."

Tied to a chair, it scraped against the concrete as Victor struggled. "Damn it, lady, I’ll give you this—you’ve got balls that even some men lack." he smiled, blood dripping from his mouth. Celestina pulled back the slide, the metallic click echoing in the quiet room as a bullet locked into place, ready to fire. She Pressed the gun to his head, "Are those your last words?" she asked coldly. ....................... How do you find peace when you're married to chaos itself? You don't. You become chaos. What would you do if your husband who murdered you and slaughtered your family proposed marriage again, and didn't recognize you? For Aria D'Amore, the answer is simple: marry him again, and make him pay for every drop of blood. When Aria is forced into a peace-treaty marriage with her family's enemy, she believes the war is over. Instead, Dante Vallenis uses their wedding celebration to massacre every D'Amore, making her watch before ordering her execution. She survives, barely, and "dies" in the eyes of the world. Eight years later, she returns as Celestina Vale, the mysterious Mistress of The Graveyard, an underground network that controls the Italian mafia through secrets and assassinations. When she manipulates her way into marrying Dante again, he doesn't recognize the stranger he's obsessed with controlling. But as she systematically destroys his empire from within, she falls for his uncle, the one man who tried to save her that night, and the one man who harbors a secret that could shatter everything she's built. So what will it be, love or revenge?

I first met Kai Valentine at the basketball court when I was ten years old. Kai was taller, louder, and faster than me. And from that day on, Kai became my best friend, my safe place. But then my parents passed away, and my family went bankrupt. After that, we weren't best friends anymore. We were just two strangers living in completely different worlds. Then, Kai starts "stealing" from me. He manages to steal every single girlfriend I've ever had. The day he steals my eighth girlfriend, I finally break. That's when I decide to fight back and get myself a boyfriend instead. That's right; I'm going to pretend to be gay! Let's see how he plans to steal this one. However, I never thought that my actions would make Kai go absolutely berserk. That night, Kai presses me against a dim corner in the stairwell. His fists slam into the concrete wall, his breath hot against my cheek. "If even he can be your boyfriend," he grits out, "then why can't I?" I laugh. "Are you out of your mind?" Kai just keeps pressing closer, his scorching gaze burning into me as his lips inch closer until he is just a breath away. "Do you still not get it?" Something hot and erect presses up against me. He then growls softly in my ear. "I never wanted to steal any of your girlfriends. The only person I ever wanted was you, Aiden Winston!"

In my past life, my marriage was ruined by a so-called “male best friend.” On our wedding anniversary, he taunted me in front of everyone. “Javier is one lucky guy. Last night I noticed Sophie’s bust has gotten even fuller. It’s so smooth and supple.” Sophie Santos completely disregarded my dignity. She laughed and said they were just close friends who even showered together. I punched him. The very next day, I handed her the divorce papers. She accused me of overreacting and forced me to kneel and apologize to him. I stormed out in anger. However, I never expected the bridge we were overseeing to suddenly collapse. It caused massive casualties. In the end, I was sent to prison for ten years. On visiting day, he actually showed up too. “Thanks a lot, Javier. You signed off on the project. So naturally you’re the one who’s going to serve time.” I glared at him with bloodshot eyes. He leaned close to the microphone. His voice was as soft as a venomous snake flickering its tongue. “Don’t worry, I’ve got everything sorted out in there… just take your time suffering.” Three months later, I was beaten to death by a prison bully on the cold concrete floor. When I opened my eyes again, I was back on the day of the anniversary. At that moment, my female best friend kicked the door open and straddled my crotch. “Don’t mind me, Sophie. We grew up naked together. “I know his… measurements from every stage of his life.”

"You’re worth five million dollars, Vespera. Don't make me regret not selling you to the labs." My father didn't look at me like a daughter. He looked at me like a bad investment. As a 'Dud' born into a Royal Shifter line, I was a freak, a wolf-less servant who scrubbed the floors of the packhouse while my sister prepared to lead. But when my grandmother’s heart started failing and the hospital threatened to dump her on the street, I ran out of options. I signed the paper. Ninety-nine days. One child. No names. No light. The man who bought me lives in a fortress of concrete and silence. He is a billionaire who never shows his face, a shadow that only comes to me in the dead of night. They say he’s a monster. They say he’s deformed. But when Killian finally touches me in the dark, his skin doesn't feel like a monster's. It feels like a furnace—a scorching, electric heat that makes my dormant blood scream for the first time in nineteen years. The truth is much worse than the rumors. Killian is the Lycan King—the same God my former pack kneels to every Sunday. He doesn't want an heir. He’s dying from a feral rot that’s eating his mind, and my 'useless' human blood is the only thing that stops the screaming in his head. My parents think they sold a broken girl to pay a debt. My ex-mate, Alpha Jax, thinks he rejected a nobody. But as the life inside me begins to howl, I realized that I’m not a Dud. I’m a Moon-Healer. And King Killian isn't going to let his medicine walk away when the ninety-nine days are up.

Tristan Hayes' life took a sharp turn, one moment he was on the cusp of his dream then suddenly found himself drowning. Trauma surgeon residency was brutal enough; losing his scholarship was a knockout blow. Desperate, he swallowed his pride and became "Titan" at Club Inferno. Six months, and he was their star, his body a commodity. Tonight was his last dance – he was booked for a bachelorette party for a bride-to-be linked to the Mafia family. He remembered the haze of perfume, the clamor, the hands pulling him closer and the willing mouths tasting him. He remembered the bride, her eyes wide, her laughter turning into moans and gasps. He entertained the women, the night ending with the bride's face covered in his thick sticky seed. After this night, he wanted to close this chapter of his life. He wanted to forget it all. He should have. Tristan awoke in a cold, unfamiliar room, the fear paralyzing. Now, bound and gagged in a concrete cell, the memory was a burning brand. He learned why they called Giovanni Sokolov "The Siberian Winter." Giovanni, a face carved from granite, stood before him. "My bride," Giovanni’s voice was a low growl, "You entertained my fiancée, She died a week ago, trying to run away with a man. Your seed was the catalyst. You helped her betray me." Giovanni leaned closer, his eyes devoid of warmth. "She was running away, Dr. Hayes. You helped her crave forbidden fruit. You opened the door to betrayal." He smiled, a cruel, predatory expression. "Now, you will pay the price of her betrayal. You will take her place... as my companion in bed... my slave and my plaything. Don't worry I'll make you'll enjoy every second of it."

“Hands on the wall, and stick your perfect ass out for me,” Cole demands. I lean my sweaty palms against the concrete slab and step my feet apart, bracing myself, as I bend my torso until I’m at a ninety-degree angle with my ass and torso parallel to the floor. Cole lightly slaps one of my redden ass cheeks, and a flame of desire mixed with pain bursts through my body. Everyone is gathered around now, watching. “Fuck her hard, Cole!” Someone yells. “Wreck her little pussy!” “Fill the little slut up!” All the taunts and comments are making me blush with embarrassment while my pussy gets wetter. •°• What begins as a sugar baby deal soon becomes a whirlwind of rough spankings, wicked bondage, and pulse-pounding group encounters, threesomes, foursomes, even gangbangs that leave Jacqueline trembling, breathless, and begging for more. As a top physics student, Jacqueline never expected her reply to a sultry ad would drag her into Cole’s orbit, a cocky financier whose magnetic charm was a trap and whose control was absolute. Every lash of his whip, every ruthless thrust, and every scorching gaze pulls her deeper into his dark world—a world where secrets simmer and desire burns hotter than she ever imagined. Now Jacqueline is caught between the thrill of surrender and the fight for her soul. Will she rise from the ashes of her corruption, or will she give in completely to his iron grip? Content Warning: Packed with BDSM, free-use fantasies, edging, humiliation, tantalizing toys, double/triple penetration, and flashes of F/f heat woven into blazing M/f seduction, Punished by Passion is not for the faint of heart. This is danger, desire, and dark romance at its most addictive, enter only if you dare.

As my due date approached, a massive discrepancy surfaced in the Galante family's arms accounts. The leadership made a swift decision. They sent me, Sophia Vitale, the Don's wife, the woman everyone claimed had nothing better to do, to personally inspect the armory and verify the inventory. I believed it was a routine check. I never imagined my husband's godsister, Monica Leone, would use it as cover to blow up the entire armory. The explosion was deafening. Fire ripped through the sky. Concrete collapsed around me, crushing my body as a searing pain tore through my abdomen. I did not call my husband on his highest-priority private line. Instead, I sent a distress signal to my father. In my previous life, the moment the explosion occurred, I had used that same priority channel to call my husband. The child had survived. Monica had been obliterated in the blast. My husband had claimed he did not blame me. He had said Monica was an outsider and that an heir mattered more. He had spared no expense, hiring elite obstetric specialists to monitor me day and night. He had told me to stay calm and wait for delivery. Then, on the day I went into labor, he personally locked me and the baby inside an abandoned warehouse drenched in gasoline and burned us alive. "If you hadn't deliberately delayed, she wouldn't have died. Do you really think playing the innocent victim could fool me? Dream on," he said. "You like playing with fire so much? Fine. I'll let you experience her despair yourself." When I opened my eyes again, I was back at the armory, at the exact moment of the explosion.