Novel & Cerita Craft Stories I Wrote For The Devil

Contents of this story includes explicit sex scenes, and if it doesn't suit you, avoid reading! Tales of iniquity draws you closer to the sex life of the characters in the book. Including- BL, GL, MM, BB and all manner of forbidden romance. Beware!

When I was seventeen, Cesare Cassano, the youngest son of the Cassano Family, saw me once—and that was it. He was hooked. At nineteen, he fought his way up and became the Don's chosen successor. At twenty-one, in front of the whole city, I said yes to Cesare's over-the-top proposal. Overnight, I became the woman every girl in Naples envied. Everybody knew the Cassano Don would do anything for me—anything—just to see me smile. And then three days later, at the billion-dollar wedding Cesare threw for me, livestreamed to the whole world, I fell off a cliff. Just like that, I was dead. Gone without a trace.

Lucifer isn't in hell. He's right here on earth, in my bedroom, wearing a three-piece suit and luring me into the deepest parts of hell. He told me I was his when he took my virginity, and I didn't believe him until he stole me away from my own wedding and tied me to him for eternity. There is no escape from my psychopathic husband, not when my body is a slave to his dark touch. There is only one option: to destroy him before he possesses more than just my body.

When I was born, my father left me to die beside my mother's corpse in the fields. Why? Because I looked like a ghost—white hair, white eyes—and the chaos that followed my birth terrified him. He didn’t even give me a name. Twenty years later, I’m still wolfless. Still the family punching bag. Still hated by the entire pack. And when the Alpha’s son, my mate and my step-sister framed me, I was sentenced to death by hanging. But death never came. Instead, I was claimed by another mate. The devil himself. Primus Alexander of the Theriakon Pack. The most feared, merciless creature to ever walk the earth. His goal? Find or mold a strong mate and produce an heir. My goal? Find peace, maybe even freedom. Easy enough. Or so I thought. But what happens when friends, loyal subjects and even family try every means to kill me? Because the deeper we fall, the more I uncover the terrifying truth—about his need for a child… and worse what he really is.

My billionaire dad chooses a husband for me. People claim that Sebastian Lambert is a fine gentleman who's absolutely in awe of me. He seems easy enough to deal with, so I agree to the marriage. The wedding is held at the biggest hotel my family owns. On the big day, as I push open the doors in my wedding dress, a bucket of foul-smelling blood comes crashing down on me. The scene inside is even more horrifying. What was supposed to be a pure and romantic ceremony is now decorated with giant spiders and cockroaches. Grotesque clown faces grin at me from the walls. At the altar, there's a black coffin. Sebastian's adoptive sister, Ruth Lambert, strolls over with a group of people. She covers her mouth in fake surprise as she remarks, "Oh my, Claudia, you look like a pathetic mutt right now!" Laughter erupts around me. Holding my anger back, I coldly reply, "All of you, get out." She crosses her arms, arrogantly looking down at me as if she's on some pedestal. "Come on, Claudia. Seb personally asked me to surprise you. I put in a lot of effort to decorate your little wedding. You're telling me to get out? I don't even get a 'thank you'? Do you need me to teach you some manners?" She signals to the people next to her, and two of them step forward, trying to force me to my knees. Stunned for a few seconds, I pull out my phone and call Sebastian. "Is this the so-called surprise you had your sister prepare for me? Forcing me to kneel before her?"

Mira Parker knows just two things very well… how to survive and how to hide her pain behind a seductive smile. By day, she hides behind exhausted smiles. By night, she dances beneath the sinful lights of Sicily as Black Cherry, the woman men crave but women condemn. Every smile, every dance, every teasing touch hides the desperation eating her alive and the dangerous secrets capable of destroying her. But when one desperate decision to save her son throws her into the path of the most feared man in the mafia world, her life spirals out of control overnight. Alessandro Caruso…. a Cold-blooded man. Possessive and devastatingly handsome. A man whose touch burns just as much as his threats. A devil wrapped in expensive suits and dark promises. He looks at Mira like he wants to own her… ruin her… consume every trembling piece of her soul. And the more she fights his control, the more dangerously obsessed he becomes. Now trapped in a world of dark luxury, ruthless power, forbidden desire, and intoxicating temptation, Mira finds herself caught between fear and craving… between escaping the devil and surrendering to the heat of his attention. Because Alessandro Caruso doesn’t chase. He claims. And once the devil of Sicily wraps his hands around you… There’s no escape.

For the sake of the man she loved, a beautiful girl named Giselle Gaberilia gave up all of her parents’ assets to her boyfriend, Dirly Dacthon—until she was left with nothing at just 19 years old. How unlucky! Giselle even caught her lover making love to another woman. Feeling betrayed and deceived by Dirly, she accepted an offer from a middle-aged woman to marry her son—who turned out to be a Mafia King. The marriage would only last for one year, and during that time, Giselle must make the man fall in love with her. At the same time, she devises a plan to take revenge on her ex-lover and reclaim everything that rightfully belongs to her. Will Giselle succeed in getting her revenge on Dirly? And will she manage to make the devil fall in love with her?

I was with Marco, the New York Mafia heir, for seven years. He never told his family about me. But when I walked in on a wedding rehearsal and saw the groom embracing the bride-to-be. It was Marco! "Her fiancé's held up in Italy. I'm just a stand-in," he told me, but his eyes never left her. "You're the best wedding planner in New York. This wedding has to be flawless." But I saw something in his eyes I'd never seen before. A possessiveness that bordered on resentment. Isabella, the bride, hated every idea I had for her. In the end, Marco told me to give her the wedding I'd spent five years designing for myself. "Our wedding can wait. I'll give you something bigger, I promise. It's just a plan, Sophia. It's what you do. Giving it to a client should be easy, right?" He didn't know. It wasn't just a plan. It was my dying wish. In the end, I gave him what he wanted, quietly preparing to die. Later, he went mad, kidnapping the world’s best doctors—risking a global manhunt—all to save me.

My daughter was violated and killed, yet her death was ruled a suicide. After seven failed appeals, I kidnapped the chief prosecutor’s daughter. I tied the chief prosecutor’s daughter to an autopsy table and publicly addressed the prosecutor’s office in a live stream. “I performed the autopsy myself. My daughter didn’t kill herself. She was murdered. “I’ll give you seven chances. Release the actual evidence and name the murderer publicly. Each time a chance runs out, I’ll remove one of her body parts.” The chief prosecutor and his wife knelt on the floor. They begged me desperately to spare their daughter. “The evidence proves your daughter took her own life. Stop this madness now and let my daughter go. She’s innocent.” Viewers in the live stream called me insane. They said I had lost my mind with grief and was taking it out on an innocent person. I ignored their contempt. With a sneer, I picked up a scalpel and pressed it against the judge’s daughter’s abdomen. “The clock is ticking. Hurry up and reveal the true murderer now.” I knew perfectly well the real murderer was watching the stream at that very moment.

Fresh from a business trip, my husband swept me into his arms and pulled me toward the bathroom for a passionate shared bath. As our lips met in a dizzying kiss, I noticed something odd out of the corner of my eye: the toilet lid was down. Seven years ago, after reading an online article claiming that men urinating while standing could splash bacteria onto the seat, he insisted we always keep the lid up for hygiene's sake. In all our years of marriage, it had never been lowered until now. A chill ran through me. The bathroom was pristine, not a stray hair in sight. But then I noticed the shower's water temperature was set five degrees higher than the 98.6°F he always preferred. Men preferred cooler water, and women warmer. In an instant, I realized that Nick Doyle had betrayed me.