Doe Eyes Vs Siren Eyes Mga Nobela at Kwento

"Naughty girl, I know you want more." Santa slaps my rosy cheeks as he thrust into my dripping pussy, his balls hitting the lips of my clit. [Warning: This is a dark taboo novel containing BDSM, gay, gangbang, lesbian, forbidden age gap, step siblings and Erotica stories that leaves you dripping wet and bitting your nails with immense pleasure.] ******* You didn't stumble onto this book by an accident. You came looking for something darker, the kind of craving that wakes up after midnight, when innocence feels like a lie and desire feels like a truth. You pretend to be innocent but I know what you crave behind closed doors, the fantasies that make you dripping wet wanting a cock to thrust into your dripping pussy continuously. Dark Tales of Midnight isn't about fairytales or soft love confession, this book contains all your deepest darkest desires, the sexual experience you always wanted. Every page inside this book leaves you wanting more, so if you keep reading don't pretend you didn't know. You wanted this and here, wanting is only the beginning. Dedicated to all the good girls who love being anything but innocent after the dark.

[Warning: Mature content] "You're not Irina anymore," he whispered, " You're Isabella... my dead sister." When twenty-one-year-old Irina Wilson wakes up in the mansion of Lorenzo De Luca, the ruthless Don of Naples. She's given two choices, go to prison for a murder she didn't commit, or pretend to be his dead sister Isabella. Blackmailed into living a lie, Irina is forced to step into Isabella's world, a world of luxury, danger, and secrets she dosen't understand. But everything changes the moment a little boy calls her Mama. Now trapped between a child who believes she's his mother and a man who dosen't only want her but her body too, Irina begins to question who she really is. When Isabella's husband returns demanding his wife back, the truth she's been running from unravels. What Irina dosen't know is that she is not pretending to be Isabella, she is Isabella. A woman who survived death, lost her memory and fell in love with the man who destroyed her life. As lies crumbles, heart collides and blood debt becomes due, only one truth remains, love can be born even in the hands of the man who killed you.

I'm Jax Ryder, heir to the most powerful investment group in Veridian City. I had just returned from studying abroad. My father, worried I might impulsively marry the wrong woman, arranged a marriage for me with Everly, the heiress to the up-and-coming Sinclair Group. It was strictly a business arrangement. But that didn't mean I intended to just go through the motions. At the very least, I had to personally bid on the mansion that would serve as our marital home. And so, I found myself at the annual Starlight Charity Gala. When the legendary prime real estate, the "Siren's Cove Estate," was presented as the final auction item, I raised my paddle. Just as the gavel was about to fall, an arrogant voice cut through the room. "What right does a nobody like you have to bid? Step aside." The grand hall fell silent, the only sound the frantic clicking of camera shutters from all corners. I turned my head. A man in a flashy, sequined suit stood there. He swirled the champagne in his glass, his posture reeking of arrogance. Before I could even speak, the auctioneer brought the gavel down. "Sold! Congratulations to Mr. Brian Vance on winning the 'Siren's Cove Estate'!" I frowned, a flicker of anger rising within me. "The bidding wasn't over." "That's against the rules." Brian sneered. He looked me up and down, his eyes filled with contempt. "The rules?" He curled his lip. "Listen up. I'm Everly Sinclair's favorite stepbrother. In Veridian City, what I say goes." I had to stop myself from laughing out loud. This was interesting. My fiancée's stepbrother. I pulled out my phone and dialed her number. "Everly, your dear brother just snatched the marital home I'd picked out. What are you going to do about it?"

My son spiked a sudden high fever, scorching like a flame under my touch. I frantically dialed 911 for help, but the dispatcher on the line kept repeating questions, dragging it out. By the time the ambulance siren finally wailed in the distance, my son had already grown cold and still in my arms. Less than a year later, my husband and I split up amid endless grief and finger-pointing. I dragged on like an empty shell until one day I got an e-invite to his wedding. The moment I clicked the voice message, my blood ran cold. The bride's voice echoed exactly like that sluggish dispatcher from back then. In a breakdown, I bolted out of the house and got caught in the path of a speeding subway train, plunging me into darkness. When I opened my eyes again, my son's cries pierced the air from the next room, his forehead blazing hot against my palm. My husband thrust the phone toward me. "Quick, call 911! I'll grab a cold compress." My hands trembled as I dialed, and a chillingly familiar voice answered, "Hello, 911 emergency services."

"You whore!" A masculine voice. "You philanderer!" A feminine voice. "I'll kill you in this house!" He bellowed as he charged straight to the woman and started beating her up. The little boy stood at the door and watched his parents go about their daily routine, tears spilled from his eyes. He stood in the shadows, just watching and crying. If he speaks out loud, they'll remember him and his father will beat him also. No one remembers him. Not unless they want to beat him too. Then he saw the blow, heard the awful sound. The blow that made a difference. The blow that made that day stand out from every other day. His mom stopped screaming, she laid there on the floor, staring into nothingness. Dead. "Gia." His dad paused mid-beating. No answer. "Gianna!" He patted her white arms turned red from being beaten. Terror filled the little boy's system, a sound escaped his mouth, drawing the man's attention. "Oops. I've forgotten about you." He said to the little boy. "Mom's dead..." The little boy said in a tiny voice. The man looked down at the lifeless white woman, "Seems like it." He looked at the boy with an eye filled with menace. "You'll pretend you didn't see a thing. You'll......" The siren rang outside. The police had arrived. A neighbour had alerted them when he heard the noise. He watched as the policemen pointed their guns at his father. He watched as they took his father away. He remained hidden, his blue eyes returning to the woman who laid on the floor, with eyes as blue as his. She was staring right at him. Finally, she sees him. Only in death, did she really see him. Something died in that little boy that day. Replaced with bitterness.

I’ve got a killer hourglass figure and siren eyes. In Hollywood, I’m the ultimate sex symbol. But after five years in this town, not a single producer would dare lay a finger on me. Because the man in my bed is Don Vincenzo, the most ruthless mafia boss in New York. Seven years together. Every time we finished, he’d hold me close, kiss me, and carry me to the bathroom to clean me up. I naively thought I’d be the only woman by his side. That I'd even be his Donna. Until the night of my 28th birthday. After the family dinner, I heard him sneer to his underboss: "Chloe is fun to play with, but for my Donna, I have other options." In that instant, I ripped out my cheap, pathetic heart. I became exactly what he wanted: a perfect mistress who only cared about his money. But Vincenzo didn't seem to like that. His dark, dangerous eyes locked onto mine. "Besides this Manhattan penthouse, is there really nothing else you want from me?" I wrapped my arms around his neck, letting out a fake gasp of surprise. "You mean I can pick out a Ferrari, too?"

This is a book of shifter short stories. All of these stories came from readers asking me to write stories about animals they typically don't see as shifters. The stories that are in this series are - Welcome to the Jungle, Undercover, The Storm, Prize Fighter, The Doe's Stallion The Biker Bunnies The Luna's Two Mates

Our daughter, Luna Woods, developed a high fever. Her body was burning hot. I immediately dialed 911 for help. The dispatcher on the other end kept repeating his questions. He spoke slowly, as if deliberately stalling for time. By the time I finally heard the ambulance siren, Luna was already turning cold in my arms. In less than a year, my wife and I separated. We were consumed by endless grief and blamed for each other. Afterward, I merely existed for the sake of it. I was a hollow shell of a man. Then, one day, I received a wedding invitation from my ex-wife. The moment I played the audio invitation, a chill ran down my spine. The groom’s voice was identical to that of the slow, dawdling dispatcher from that year! I rushed out, utterly distraught, only to be hit by a roaring train. When I opened my eyes again, I heard Luna crying in the next room. Her forehead was burning hot. My wife hurriedly handed me the phone. “Quick, call 911! I’ll get a wet towel.” My hands trembled as I took the phone. When it was answered, I heard a familiar male voice through the receiver. “911, what’s your emergency?”

Whenever she closes her eyes, she can feel him. His amber eyes glaring back at her brown chocolate eyes, his fingers crawling on her skin making her shiver. She loved how he made her feel, she yearned for more and more but whenever she opened her eyes, she panted like she has been running a marathon, sweating profusely. Her silky nightie soaked not only with sweat but her wetness, her pantie more damper than ever. One unexpected day, she saw 'his amber eyes glaring back at her brown chocolate eyes' but not in her dreams, in broad daylight. Not only his eyes were visible but the whole of him. Time stopped. But... she saw something else in his amber eyes, an evil glint and the powerful scent that engulfed him made her skin crawl with fear making her remember the bitter past she had.

WARNING: 95% Sex Content/1 She-Wolf Vs 5 Alphas Three years ago, my father betrayed my mother, shattering our lives and forcing us into exile. Now, at seventeen, everything is about to change. My mother has found a second chance—with none other than the famous Alpha Thomas Blackthorn of the powerful Blackridge Pack. She's ready to start over, and I have no choice but to follow her into this new world ruled by dominance, secrets, and desire. *** "I Promise," his voice scraped raw, "I won't fuck you. Not until your wolf wakes." His fingers trailed up my inner thigh, hooking under the lace of my panties. "But you'll help me before that." His body pinned me down, muscles taut, skin scorching. His knee wedged between them, forcing me open. Then his grip tightened, yanking my legs shut again— His cock, flushed and massive, pistoned through the tight clasp of my legs. The swollen head peeked out with every stroke, glistening, filthy. I snapped my eyes shut, but that only heightened everything else— The heat of him. The wet slap of skin. The way my body betrayed me, slick gathering where I shouldn't be wet, a traitorous throb building— Shame. Shame. Shame.