Dylan Moore Audiobook Novels & Stories

He moaned as he bit my neck before slowly licking it as he twisted my nipple in his hand. “I want to taste you so bad, Ami.” Dylan's voice wasn't sounding the way it used to. It sounded dark, hot and so fucking sexy. I couldn't stand on my own two feet so I rested against him. He pulled my gown up with shaky hands and he groaned when his fingers came in contact with my bare pussy. “Oh lord.” He said in a pained voice, it was like he was in pain. My breathing was heavy as my chest heaved.

New York was Dylan’s realm so obviously, no one possessed the guts to oppose him or his men. Hunter wasted no time and opened his laptop to d******d the recording. Taking a deep breath, he pressed the play button when the door burst open revealing Brandon. “Hunter, where’s Dylan?” Brandon piped up when his eyes fell on the screen. Squinting them, he trotted towards Hunter and leaned on the table as he watched the recording along with him. But by the end of the video, hot, red rage flooded inside his veins. ***** Sitting on the bed with tired eyes, Evelyn adjusted her glasses before checking the presentation which her secretary had mailed to her.

“You should quit being in your fantasy world because this is reality and in this reality, you are nothing but a traitor and an adversary of the Black moon pack and from today; you are hereby a prisoner for the rest of your life” Dylan was in total disarray, he didn't want to believe that all his efforts had gone down the drain and this was because of his useless feelings and Natalia. “Damn you, Natalia!!, Damn all of you!!!” “I wish I could kill her again. This isn't the end because I will kill all of you ,” Dylan boasted vainly. Eva's eyes widened at his words. She then asked. “W-What do you mean by wishing you could kill her again?”

I feel the wetness immediately, a warm, slick trail of fresh blood beginning to soak into the fabric. Easton mutters something under his breath behind me, a bitter, exasperated sound. “Why does anyone even bother listening to me? I’ve only lived to a good old age by knowing when to stay the hell in bed.” I ignore him completely. I’m at the door of the cell when Dylan reaches out and grabs my arm, his fingers digging into my bicep. “Listen to me,” he says, tightening his grip until it’s a physical challenge. “You’re no good to her if you can barely stand on your own two feet, and you’re certainly no good to her if you’re too weak to fight when we find her.”

"...lan? Dylan... DYLAN!" Dorry's lowered scream finally got to him and his tired eyes creaked to the side to see her with a widened gaze. "Dude are you trying to kill us all?" "Huh?" "You mixed in the wrong chemical and didn't realize it's been foaming up? What's got you so distracted?" Dylan blinked down to his side of the table and his eyes widened in shock, Dorry seemed to have cooled off the built up foam that now sizzled out but if it had gone on any longer things might've ended real bad.

It looked like a small, warning ember. "Good evening," Diane said, her voice shifting into a professional honey. "Tonight, we are joined by Gideon Moore. Until forty-eight hours ago, he was the Chairman of Moore Industries and the architect of the Ravenport skyline. But after a series of staggering scandals and a sudden resignation, the world is asking: what happened behind the closed doors of Moore Crest?"

Dylan was walking along the lake, where his father's old shed was located. He saw the old Shaman sitting on a rock, his feet crossed. It appeared that he was meditating. Dylan approached him, and stared at the horizon, putting his hands in his pocket. "Why does it hurt so much? I don't like her but yet, I feel that something was going to tear apart, from my chest when I heard her say those words. " Dylan said , in a soft, sad tone.

Chapter 22(Tension and confrontation) Alex's Point Of View: I laughed, "Oh come on.”. My phone rang and I picked it to see who it was. It was Dylan, I answered the call. “Hey." Dylan's voice blasted out immediately I answered the call, his voice filled with panic. “Oh. Hey,Dylan. Sup.” I said, smiling. “The don… He….. he's DEAD! He was murdered!” Dylan shouted, his voice breaking. My smile immediately melted away as the phone slipped away from his grip, falling to the floor.

There were no birds singing, no rustling of leaves, just the low murmur of conversations from the Nomads scattered around the campfire, their faces half-hidden in shadow. Dylan stood at the center of it all, tall and broad-shouldered, his grizzled beard flecked with gray, his eyes sharp and calculating. He looked like someone who had seen too much—someone who had survived this world long before it crumbled. His Nomads were a ragtag bunch, dressed in mismatched survival gear, their weapons hung casually at their sides. But there was nothing casual about the way they watched us. "Welcome," Dylan said, his voice low and smooth, like he was trying to put us at ease. It didn’t work. "You've picke

Dylan's POV “Stop,” I laughed. “Where's the fun in that? I still have to cut some limbs and feed it to my hounds.” He continued pleading but I ignored his pleas. He had shown no mercy to my children, no mercy to Ava. He deserved none from me. I kept the scissors and pressured hard on his wound, a steady, agonizing weight. He screamed, a raw, desperate sound that tore through the morning air. “Okay! Okay! I’ll talk! I’ll say everything! Just stop!”