Dark Spicy Books Novels & Stories

Mafia books on this platform: Take me I'm yours ( stalker romance) His secret wife (Marriage of convience) Werewolf books on this platform: The royally screwed Luna The royally screwed queen The royally screwed princess The royally screwed rogue Dark romance on this platform: Let me go ( Stalker romance) Coming July 2024 Kind regards Tema G.M Your favorite author *Heart*

So guys, two extra spicy currywursts and because it's so warm today, I'll give you a free lemonade on top." "Oh," Maddox said, taking his meal. At the promising smell alone, his stomach gave a very emphatic growl. “Eleanor, you are a real angel. If it wasn't for your husband, I would carry you straight to the back of my truck and express my gratitude. " Eleonore, the owner of the little snack bar on Hautstrasse, laughed heartily. “You old charmer. If only I were ten years younger. "

Unfortunately, they had no time for anything else than work, as Alistair surely wanted Damon in his hands as soon as possible, to quickly immerse him in the Lake of Darkness, so that he could safely complete his mission and get rid of the "chosen one" They created a kind of contrast - Marco had a dark complexion, black, slightly curly hair, while Chris was pale, with blonde hair in a very light shade. In addition, he was a head taller than his companion and terribly thin. Marco, on the other hand, had broad shoulders and an overall muscular body. They both wore knee-length black coats, trousers of the same color, and elegant shoes. From time to time both Marco and Chris winked at the girls t

I scrolled through the limited selection of DVDs—mostly action flicks and thrillers that made me know it was his taste, until one caught my eye. Fifty Shades of Grey. I'd heard about it from friends back home, all giggles and whispers about the steamy scenes, but I'd never watched it because of my sheltered life and all that. Tonight, with frustration bubbling under my skin and that lingering heat I felt from Viktor's earlier grab, it felt like the perfect rebellion. I popped it in, cranked the volume high to drown out the silence of the cabin, and settled onto the couch, pulling a blanket over my lap for some semblance of coziness.

Maggie replied. Maggie gently laid the open book on the table before Tara. The large print almost jumped off the pages. The Gothic style lettering was clean and crisp. Tara slid her hand lightly over the pages and felt a warm vibration in her palms. Maggie gave a full bellied laugh when Tara jerked away with a startled look.

He frowned, though I couldn't see it, but I knew him well enough. I waved a hand dismissively. “That's just how these bosses are. Come on, let's go in. I'm starving.” At the same time, my stomach rumbled as if confirming my words. Leander realized, his lips were now curled into a soft smile. “Say no more, ma'am. Your favorite meal has been made.” I grinned widely, wrapping a hand around his waist as he led me into the house. True to his words, they were two plates of roasted chicken, bacon and eggs, chips, and some more enchanting foods.

Elara The classroom is bathed in thick darkness, disturbed only by the flickering light of the candles placed on the dusty shelves. Their flames dance, casting distorted shadows on the walls, as if the ghosts of lessons past are watching us, eager for a spectacle. My breath is short, almost suffocated by the heavy air, charged with an intoxicating scent of leather, musky perfume and this acrid, almost metallic smell of desire that rises between us. I'm standing in the center of the room, my legs trembling slightly under my tight black dress, the fabric clinging to my sweaty skin. Each movement makes the deep notch of the neckline quiver, like a silent invitation.

But instead of being grossed out I found myself smiling. Yeah he was nice to me… very very nice and having some one like him here made the stay , could I call it a stay or was it an imprisonment, more palatable. Enjoyable even. There was just something about him, an attraction between us that had started the second we had met. I might dislike him for the most past but I didn’t hate what he did to me. As sick as that sounded, I couldn’t deny it. But it kind of tracked, I was a sick lady. Always had been. I always rebelled and went for the guys who were no good for me. And Dante Ritches was definitely a giant walking talking red flag.

She couldn't. The book tumbled to the floor as he yanked her thighs apart. No more patience. No more hesitation. Just the raw, desperate heat of her body clenching around him as he fucked her like the illustrations promised—hard, deep, unforgiving. Duy Nam fucked Ánh Nguyệt relentlessly—bent over the bed, her legs hooked over his shoulders, pressed against the wall with her silk robes shoved up around her waist. Every page of that damned book came alive beneath his hands, her moans growing louder, her body slick and swollen with need.

Eyes the color of wet stone. He looked at me the way people look at something they have already decided to keep. “Elena Voss,” he said. “Come in.” The room smelled faintly of cedar. Two armchairs facing each other across a low table. A single lamp throwing warm light. Behind him, a wall of books with titles I recognized from my father’s study. Experimental hypnosis. Dissociative states. The ethics of suggestion. I sat. He sat. The silence stretched until my pulse felt loud.