Crackhead Chronicles Novels & Stories

Kyra is his obsession, his punishment, and his prey. Steven Blackwood doesn’t love he dominates, he torments, he claims. Resistance brings pain; surrender brings chaos. Trapped in his mansion, surrounded by fear, jealousy, and the shadowed eyes of those who serve him, she must navigate a world where innocence is weakness and temptation is unavoidable. Every moment in his grasp threatens to break her, and survival is not escape, it is submission to a man who bends desire and fear into a power only he understands. In the hands of a devil who refuses to be denied, she may lose everything…even herself.

A leash ran from the collar around the capuchin monkey's neck to the music organ where the stocky dark-haired Colton Stokes ground out a shrill melody. Crowds gathered to watch as the small monkey floated around the people, hat held out, begging for tips from the onlookers. This is frickin' humiliating, Liam Lamont sent through the mindspeech of the shifters as he shook the hat in his hands at an elderly gentleman who couldn't stop talking baby talk to him. Why do people always talk to animals and babies like we're ignorant?

Chapter 50 Part 1 I yawn the moment I wake up feeling the pain in my head. I sit up and look around only to find that I’m not home, it’s not my favorite place even though it’s part of the bar for the reason that I can still smell the liquor from down stairs and it’s still early but there’s already loud music that I can hear from a distance… I only get to stay here when I’m pretty drunk and can’t drive myself home.

I returned to my office, made myself a cup of coffee, and waited. It didn't even take ten minutes before someone came knocking. The first to come in was, surprisingly, Layla. She clutched a USB drive so tightly her knuckles turned white. As soon as she stepped inside, she dropped to her knees. "I'm sorry, Ms. Cooper. I'm so, so sorry. I must've been out of my mind!" She cried, burying her face in one hand, while holding out the USB drive with the other. "Everything's in here—every chat log where Keira planned how to blow this up step by step and force you to give in!

Hell he doesn’t even deserve to live for all I care. “Garrett grabbed the son of a bitch’s ass to the chair. It’s time to have some fun.” I say with a calm voice. Jonathan tries to mouth off, asshole this bitch that I’ll kill you blah blah blah until my hand goes across his face. The satisfying crunch of his nose, breaking his music to my ears. Blood sprays everywhere running down his face and into his mouth. “Is that all you got bitch?” he says and smiles blood coating his teeth at this point.

And we are so lucky that mum and dad had left early for work. It was barely 8 AM. I continued bobbing my head, ensuring he hits the back of my throat. I’ve been sucking dicks since I was 17. I have a good experience and know exactly how to make a man weak in his knees. And my stepbrother was no damn exception. Especially when he was melting so hard into my touch. “Amber— fucking fuck!” He groaned, fucking my mouth. He grabbed my head and secured me into a place, fucking me like he wanted to make a hole in my throat.

and emailed Marcus Greer back. "Give me a number." The reply came thirty seconds later. Marcus had been waiting for the email. "Two million. Cash. Untraceable. Forty-eight hours." Damien closed his eyes. Two million was not about money. Marcus knew Damien could write a two-million-dollar check in his sleep. Two million was the amount of money a desperate man asks for when he wants to say, " You owe me this for ruining my life. The amount itself was an insult as much as a price tag.

"This girl here's got a great pussy, though. I swear it fucking sucks." The guys all laughed, so Jim joined in too. "Beaten your record, yet?" Head asked Ross. "No." He sighed. He seemed to have recovered and was holding the Asian's head still and slowly fucking her face. "Ross holds the office record for loads," Head told Jim. "Eight times in one day. I can only ever manage four, and I'm soft on the last one."

she shook her head and smiled, "You don't look anything like a crackhead” I pretended to laugh at the joke even though I didn't find it funny but what else was I to do? She directed me to the director's office which I found quite easily. From the report he was a middle aged man but when the door opened, he looked much older. He had a head full of gray hair and wrinkles especially around his mouth probably due to how hard he frowned. He smiled, or something that was supposed to resemble a smile “Welcome detective" he led me into the office.

I muttered under my breath, unlocking it and pulling up her number. Suddenly, I froze, seeing a shadow looming behind me and the crunch of boots. Fuck. I barely had time to react before something hard and heavy hit the back of my head and I reeled, stumbling forward for a second before everything went dark and I fell to the floor.