Crime Of Passion Novels & Stories

This is a criminal who’s lending me money in exchange for sex, for fucks sake! “That’s not an answer,” I point out. “Let’s just say the last 10k is … a penalty.” His dark eyes glitter menacingly, and a shiver runs up my spine. I imagine myself squirting across his lap while his thick, callused hand punishes my ass. I bet he’d hold me down, no matter how much I kicked or cried. He looks like he’d be ruthless … “And if you want me to stop, you say red. If you want me to slow down, say yellow. Repeat back to me what I just said.”

He looked into her innocent blue eyes pleading and his heart melted. He paused for a second until she insulted him. "You are a bastard!" She said angrily and spat on his face. Damien became angry and forgot all the emotions he was feeling and raised her legs upward before thrusting into her with harshness making her to ache her back and scream at his intrusion. She closed her eyes shut as he thrusted in and out of her like a maniac. She stood still with tears dripping out enduring the pain he inflicted on her and not on her body but her soul. He had shattered and reduced her worth to be nothing more than a prostitute that satisfies him.

It was passion, pure passion, sinful passion. For Claude, daring to love such an angel is an unforgivable sin. And he is a sinner.

If what she was saying has an ounce of truth in it then the real killer and schemer is still out there and plotting more evil against them. “What the heck do you mean by you didn’t fucking kill him? Then who the fuck did huh?! Who kill him? The scene of the crime was gruesome, so fucking gruesome! It had to be ruled as a crime of passion meaning in popular usage, it refers to a violent crime, especially homicide, in which the perpetrator commits the act against someone because of sudden strong impulse such as anger in relation to love. Who else has such a strong sense of anger and hatred towards him than you? If you are saying you didn’t fucking kill him, then

A dark, crimson mark was blooming across his sharp cheekbone, but instead of anger, a slow, terrifyingly dark amusement spread across his features. He let out a low, gravelly chuckle that sent a shiver straight down her spine. "Fierce," he murmured, his voice laced with a twisted kind of admiration. "I didn't think you had that much blood in your veins, Rissa. All that fire, and you waste it on a man who treats you like a porcelain doll he forgot he bought." He stepped even closer, ignoring the way she tried to press herself further into the hedge. He caught her wrist, the same hand she had used to slap him and brought it up to his lips.

Allison’s POV There are two types of women in this world, those who cry when a man cheats, and those who set his suits on fire. Me? I’m the third type. I flirt my way into his damn office and help my best friend burn his empire to the ground. “Five minutes,” I whispered in Jeron’s ear, watching his Adam’s apple bob like he’d swallowed a golf ball. “Just five… and I’ll owe you one.” Jeron blinked, cheeks flushed like a schoolboy caught staring. “I really shouldn’t…”

“And what about you? Where do you stand?” Matteo’s jaw clenched. “I’m caught in the middle, like always. But I won’t let them hurt you.” She searched his face for doubt but found none. For the first time, she saw not just the heir to a crime dynasty, but a man burdened by impossible choices. Suddenly, the sharp ring of the phone shattered the moment. Matteo answered, voice low and clipped. His eyes flicked to Isabella before he gestured for her to stay quiet.

My mother committed suicide because. I clench my fists again as I think of all the things I missed out on because I was too busy with training or going to some party with the guys . There is a link to an online drive with the username and password on the letter, I grab my laptop and log in. The contents of what he has saved here causes such a fierce hatred to well up inside me that it takes over my whole being.

Like I was nothing but his warm-up act before strategy and bloodshed. Cristo kept talking on the screen. Project Deimos. The Ghost. The replica villa. But all I saw was him. My Antonioni. Choosing power over passion again. I climbed behind the chair, desperate, and staggering from tipsiness. “Make love to me now,” I whispered. “Please… I want you inside me. I’m still aching for you.” He didn’t move. I begged him like a mad woman, all shame gone. “I want your fat, long dick to pound me hard…”

I saw his hand reach for my phone once more, I quickly sunk my teeth into his flesh, hearing him make a loud moan in pain gave me just as much satisfaction. Suddenly, a car drove to where the car stood, frozen while we tussled. Noticing it at the corner of my eye, it seemed familiar, the dark emblem couldn’t be mistaken, almost immediately, a loud crashing sound tore through my ears, it was the sound of broken glass, the window forced open, broken. A hand grabbing the man from the broken parts, I could see his rolled up sleeves, it seemed as though he was in a hurry. “Don’t you know not to mess with someone else’s wife?” He asked rhetorically, his soft baritone had become stiffened with ange