Domino Hand Grip

I asked for a son, and you gave me a girl?!" his voice began to rise. Myra shuddered, tears soaking her face. She clenched her baby tight like her life depended on it, fighting the will to succumb to the intense pains she was feeling. "What exactly is your usefulness?" He roared, and his grip on the bed stand shattered the frame, causing Myra to drop harshly into the jagged floor, her baby weeping even louder. "You are here for only one thing. One thing! Bear me a son!" he strikes the stone wall, and it shatters like glass, the impact reverberating. "After that one night, I never touched you, did I?!" Sold to the cursed Alpha King, Myra must bear him a son in order to be free but when she doesn’t, The Alpha King decides to let his wrath fall on her but Myra escapes and runs away. In order to clear his curse, the Alpha king needs his Luna and his child but will Myra be willing to go back to him?

I should have known.” Teresa burst into laughter. “Mom, what's wrong?” Irene asked curiously. Teresa's grip on my hands was too tight. I tried to remove her hands but she pulled me back . “ Natasha Blake here is pregnant.” My eyes widened at Teresa's words. “WHAT!!” Irene growled. “Aunt…you..are.. mistaken.” I shook my head. I can't be pregnant, this is not supposed to happen to me not now!! “WHO IS THE FATHER!!” Teresa growled in annoyance. “I'm not…pregnant Aunt Teresa.” I tried to deny it. “You wench!!” Irene slapped me across the face. “I'm…saying…the truth.” I tried reasoning. “Fine.” Aunt Teresa stopped Irene from hitting me again. Natasha finds her mate on the mating ceremony day but is rejected and threatened. Fate seems to be playing tricks on her, and she gradually loses everything she has, but the moon goddess has left her a bigger surprise…….

“Don't come closer. There is no way I will let you have me again” he pulls him even closer, ignoring every word Reece just spilled. As always his signature grin on his face. He was so close in a way Reece could feel his warm breath and the strong smell of alcohol on his breath. His grip tightened around his ass giving it a little squeeze. “Hmm,” a little moan escapes Reece’s throat. He quickly held his hands over his mouth preventing further provocation. He was hard again, the man before him realized a trump smile. Reece may fight and talk trash, but for some reason, he obeys the man's every touch and provocation. He was like a lap rat in the hands of his abuser. The hands around his waist gently loosened up, letting him free, but before he could register what was happening, his hands slid down into his jeans ``no.. not again!!!

"Nyla, stop being dramatic. Raise Jordyn's baby, and I'll come home for dinner once a month." Those were the terms Clark Summer offered his wife after she discovered his affair. When Nyla demanded a divorce, Clark laughed in her face, treating her pain like a childish tantrum. "You love me too much to leave," he scoffed, convinced she was nothing without him. He was wrong. Nyla didn’t just leave; she leveled up. She walked into a bar and set her sights on Damon Summer—Clark’s estranged, ruthless, and terrifyingly handsome uncle. Clark is losing his grip on the company and his sanity, consumed by jealousy as he watches his "boring" wife shine beside his powerful uncle. He stands in the rain, begging for a second chance, but Nyla only has one question left for him: "You chose the mistress. Why are you crying now that I’ve chosen someone else?"

***Explicit 18+*** "I've missed the warmth of your pussy, the feel of it. God Ginevra, you're so fucking perfect." I rasped and tightened my grip on her. I began rocking her against me ever so gently with parted lips. Her tight pussy very often gripping unto my dick, taking me hostage with each rock against me and a loud scream finally escaped from the back of my throat. *** The game of chess is one love cannot salvage. When the king and the queen come out to play, they have no other goal set before them if not going at each other's throat for the kill until a winner emerges. This is the game of the mafia, the game that'd never allow Love exist between two rivals. They want to love and care for each other but don't know how- all they've known all their lives is loyalty to their famiglia and name. What would happen when the only option becomes death?

At the annual company banquet, the boss had the tables and chairs from the logistics department removed, leaving only a stainless steel dog bowl in the center of the stage. "Logistics is just the company's watchdog," he said coldly. "Since when do watchdogs sit at the table and eat?" The top sales champion laughed as he dumped leftovers into the bowl. The boss casually slipped a black garbage bag over my shoulders. "From now on, you're the company's living trash can. Catch it properly." Laughter erupted across the room. Amid the jeers, I silently tightened my grip on the universal access card in my hand. What they didn't know was that the building's special approvals for water and electricity—and all its property management connections—were maintained by this very "dog face" of mine. I tossed my ID badge into the dog bowl and turned to leave. Let's see how long you last once the new year passes—without logistics there to hold everything together.

Lydia didn't turn back; she wanted to get away from him, but Jayden must have covered the space between them in seconds because he grabbed her by the elbow and spun her trembling body around to face him. "Let me go! Let me go!" She struggled, trying to pull her arm away, but he didn't let go; instead, he tightened his grip around her arm, making her wince out in pain. "You think it'll be that easy to get away from me?" He growled at her his amber eyes vindictive as they stared into her soul, "I am the personification of all your nightmares, my dear wife, and this is just the beginning." xoxoxoxo Lydia Mars' testimony had put Jayden White in prison two years ago even though he was innocent and now he is out, seeking revenge and blood for the wrong done to him. His revenge starts with her.

Mia is forced to marry the wealthiest man in the country to protect her younger sister. Just because she was forced doesn't mean she didn't love. Yes? She loved him to the depth of her bones but he? He wanted to punish her for her crimes. Crimes she wasn't aware of. “ I'll make sure to make your life a living hell,” he whispered into her ear sending chills down her spine. She remembered him but he had no idea who she was, she loved him and would do anything for him to see her heart but he was unresponsive but that all changed when she decided that she wouldn't force her love or bear the consequences for what she didn't do. Fleeing from his torturous grip, only then does Azek realize his feelings for her and who she is. All that's on his mind now is how not to lose her the way his dad had lost his mom.

“Where’s the ring?” "Huh?" She pulled her hand back. “I asked, Where’s the ring?” Chris repeated the question, staring at his fiancée with displeasure. “It’s at the office. Since I have to wash coffee cups often, I took it off and put it away. I was afraid it might get worn out.” Her answer made Chris feel slightly relieved. "If you take off that ring again, I’ll take it as you ending our engagement. No games." "I’m not breaking off the engagement. I just took off the ring to keep it safe." “Then put it on. Right now.” Chris’s glare was unwavering, his words almost a command. "Alright, alright," she muttered in protest, reached into her bag, took out her ring, and put it on. Then she turned her hand to show him.

Professor Alexis Wolfe knows better than to want his student, but Dorian Vega, the handsome rebel dark haired student. One stolen kiss turns into a reckless obsession and he can’t deny the pull between them. But when his wife Julien catches him in a lie, he realizes that sin is sweet, and secrets are even deadlier. What began as a forbidden attraction soon unravels into a game of power, deceit, and dangerous seduction. Soon, anonymous emails begin flooding Alexis’s inbox—each signed only with an “L.” They mention private memories he’s never shared, the scent of his cologne, the words he once whispered to someone long gone. At first, he thinks it’s blackmail. But the tone is too intimate, too knowing. Then one message arrives with a photo: a hand on his shoulder in a mirror, a hand that isn’t there when he turns around.