Faded Page

“You have to choose between death or becoming my slave. Either I give you a death sentence now, or your life becomes enslaved. I have given you the liberty to choose.”  On the night of her 18th birthday, the time came for princess Alexa of the Blue Scorpion pack to meet her mate. This particular moment was everything she’d hoped for, but in the end, what happened was not what she'd expected. She found her mate, alpha Logan of the Red Lotus pack, the youngest, most charming and most desired alpha in all the realm, also happens to be her enemy. That night, Logan was bent on achieving his revenge against Danister, the Blue Scorpion alpha. He wasn’t going to let anyone get in the way, not even Alexa. That same night unlocked a new life for Alexa, not only was her pack taken into captivity but she, the high-held princess, was also taken into slavery at the hands of her mate. For the trauma her father caused him in the past, Logan plans to do so many things to Alexa. He wants to hurt her, to make her pay for all his suffering, he wants to make life as miserable as possible for her, till the point she begs for death. Now, there’s only one problem standing in the way of his plans; the mate bond they share won’t let him. Instead, it draws him closer to her; it makes him yearn for her in the most unimaginable ways. Find out where this love story between Alexa and Logan will lead in The Alpha's Hated Slave Mate. Book 1 of the werewolf mate series Book 2- The Beta's Unexpected Mate For updates on character reveals and quotes, including all my books, follow my Facebook page, Eyitee's library.

Madam Pratt, my mother-in-law, was in critical condition after a car accident, desperately needing surgery. However, as the lead surgeon, I—Lilianne Davis—stood by, casually scrolling through short videos on my phone. My best friend, Tiffany Owens, who was also a doctor, was far more anxious than I was. She grabbed my hand and pulled me toward the operating room. “Lily, why are you still stalling? Hurry up and save her!” I took a step back, clutching my stomach in pain as her face twisted in shock. “I have cramps so bad I can’t even stand. You do it.” In my last life, the moment I heard about Madam Pratt’s accident, I had swallowed a painkiller and rushed into surgery, working for hours to stabilize her. I had barely stepped away from the operating table when alarms blared. “Lilianne, what have you done? The patient is experiencing acute hemolysis!” “Call the family now!” Gareth Pratt stormed in, his face twisted with rage. He slapped me hard in the face. “Lil, you’re a professional surgeon, yet you gave my mother the wrong blood transfusion?!” I froze, reaching for Madam Pratt’s medical report to explain, only to find that the A-type blood I had seen before had somehow changed to B-type. The medical board arrived, and a blood test revealed traces of hallucinogens in my system. “Unbelievable! Taking illegal substances before surgery? That’s a cardinal sin for a doctor!” In the chaos, Emma Pratt, Gareth’s teenage sister, grabbed a scalpel and stabbed me multiple times. Blood gushed from my arteries, and I collapsed in a pool of crimson. As my vision faded, I couldn’t understand what had happened. I had never taken illegal drugs. Besides, I was absolutely certain of Madam Pratt’s blood type. When I opened my eyes again, I had returned to the moment right before stepping into the operating room.

My pup Asher had been sick for six months. Every time I personally cared for him, he became even sicker. I finally believed the witch's prophecy: I was cursed. My very existence would harm my own pup. I went to the moon temple and prayed that the moon goddess would lift the curse and ensure my pup's safety. From then on, my Alpha mate Damon brought Asher up the mountain every day to see me. Hundreds of miles of mountain road. They made the trip over a thousand times. Our bond never faded with the distance. Until today. A group of rogues broke into the Sanctuary and pushed me down the stone steps. I called Damon all night. No one answered. Then I received an anonymous video. Damon knelt in front of a woman, kissing her swollen belly. Asher stood next to them, grinning ear to ear. "I'm gonna have a brother! Aunt Serena, your pregnancy must have been so tough. Me and Dad will be your knights forever." He turned to Damon, his young face bright with pride. "Dad, I faked being sick pretty well, right? Pretending to feel awful every day, tricking Mom into taking me to the Healer over and over. They never found anything wrong, and she really believed that curse stuff. Went up the mountain all on her own." "But what if Mom finds out? Won't she be mad?" Damon didn't seem worried. "Don't worry. I've got the whole mountain sealed off. She won't find out." Only then did I understand. Everything had been a lie, planned by my mate and my son. I turned around and knocked over the Hope Flame that I had lit for Asher without hesitation. This flame was lit at the cost of my wolf’s strength, offered to the Moon Goddess so that she might bless Asher with health. Through the flames, a familiar figure sprinted toward me.

A single job can make or ruin you. What will you do? Warning: 40% sex, 100% sin. This isn't sweet little love story. This is dark, filthy Mafia territory, where rules don’t exist, and neither does mercy. For mature minds only. Themes include: Ruthless dominance Dubious consent & brutal obsession Public sex, eyes watching Best friend betrayal Power games that leave you wet and wrecked If you came for flowers and happy endings, check it out. And if you're ready to get fucked against the wall by a Mafia king who’ll make you scream his name loud enough for his enemies to hear .... then sit down, keep your mouth open, and behave. Because once you enter his world, you don't walk out untouched. ***** “Here. Sign this and you can start immediately. If you have anything important at home, bring it here....I’ll provide you with everything. "Clothes, food, whatever you need,” he said, the smirk returning to his face. She reached for the file hesitantly, her eyes narrowing slightly. Something felt…off. Too quick. Too intense. Just as she was about to flip through the pages, her phone rang. Tring… Tring… She glanced at Liam. He nodded. “It’s okay.” She quickly signed the last page without reading. Inside, her instincts itched. Something didn’t sit right. But she brushed the feeling off. Maybe he was just one of those flirty, arrogant bosses. “You signed without reading it,” he said in a whisper only she could hear. “Bold.” “I trust Liam,” she replied. Vincenzo smiled, not the kind that made people feel safe. She handed the file back and turned to leave. Vincenzo stood silently, watching her go. The way her hair swayed. The curve of her waist. That innocent look in her eyes. As she disappeared around the corner.

When last did you cum? Because this collection of sins will have you on your bed—lights dimmed low, music turned up, and fingers buried deep in your soaking wet pussy—screaming yourself hoarse as you cum over and over like a good little girl. This isn’t a book. It’s a one-way descent into every dark, forbidden craving you swore you’d never entertain. Stepbrothers who watch you bend over in short skirts. Stepdaddies who linger at your bedroom door. Priests who break every vow just to taste what they shouldn’t. And possessive, brutal men who don’t believe in sharing unless it’s you, stretched wide and ruined between them. Where desire meets defiance and surrender. Forbidden love stories with dominant men that have you on your knees, gasping, throat stuffed, body hot and begging for more. To be used, to be abused, conquered. These men don’t ask. They take. They drag you into their world of sin and make you like it. You'll cry from the pressure. Climax from the ache. Beg for their hands, their mouths, their cocks—anywhere, everywhere. They’ll whisper filth into your ear while your legs tremble. Force you to admit how wet you are, how badly you want it. And you’ll obey, because good girls don’t keep secrets. They don’t care if they’re your stepfather. Your priest. Your brother-in-laws. Your best friend’s brother. Or all of them at once. They’ll spit on your morals. Corrupt your innocence. Fuck you until your name’s forgotten and only theirs remains. So light the candles. Get the toys. Say your prayers, if you dare. Because this book doesn’t just seduce you—It owns you. And you’ll love every wicked, filthy, degrading second of it. FB Page: Ireti.

Betrayal--- I thought it was the worst pain I could feel, until I found out my husband wasn't just cheating on me with my sister... He had poisoned me to kill our unborn child so he could finally get married to my sister. 'Sign the divorce papers if you want to save your child , Rose' Wallowing in pain, I watched the man who had once sworn with his life that he loved me with everything in him. The man whom I've sacrificed everything for. My career, my dreams, my identity, and my heart. Was it in exchange for this betrayal all along? My heart twisted in my chest resentfully as tears blurred my vision. His betrayal cut deeper than a dagger, but my only thought at that moment was my unborn child. He was innocent. He didn't deserve to die. He deserved to live no matter the monster his father was. My hand trembled as I signed the divorce paper, my blood soaking every page that I turned. "I have signed the divorce papers, Mathew... Please take me to the hospital. I need to save our baby." I pleaded, my hand clutching my stomach tightly as pain shot through it. I was scared that I might lose my baby if I spent any more minute bleeding. He looked at me, without remorse, his arm wrapping around my sister's waist as a smirk tugged at the corner of his lips. "Why should I? Just pack your things and leave." And with that, he turned his back on me, walking away without sparing me another glance as if I didn't exist. As darkness came looming over, my strength slowly draining off, only one question echoed in my mind. Is this really the end?

Three women. And maybe more... Three stories. And more... All soaked in desire that doesn't care about rules, vows, or shame. These aren't tales of love-they're confessions of raw, hungry need. Lust that makes your cünt throb, your cöck twitch, your breath catch. Pages moist with sweat, wet with cūm, dripping with sin. Fingers, lips, tongues, hands-everything presses, slides, and fūcks in ways that make your pulse race. You'll read about pūssies dripping, cöcks hard and throbbing, mouths gagging and sūcking, āss cheeks spread, tongues sliding inside folds, fingers plunging deep. Every page pulses with heat, with mōans you can feel, with bodies colliding and fücking without mercy. Inside, nothing is sacred. Nothing is safe. A married woman spreads wide for her forbidden lover. A professor trembles as her student takes her mouth. A stranger is bound and worshiped, every inch of her body devoured. And that's just the beginning. Every filthy craving, every desperate mōan, every secret you've never dared whisper-it's here. Women devour women. Men ravage men. Lovers cross every line they shouldn't. So go on. Pretend your fingers aren't twitching to turn the page. Pretend your thighs aren't already wet. Pretend your cöck isn't straining. But once you give in... once your eyes slide across the first word... you'll feel it- the slow, dirty pull between your thighs, the rush of want crawling through you, your body answering before your mind does. And from that moment- you don't just read it. You become it. Your püssy, your cöck, your jūices, your mōans, your filthy, trembling need-all mine to claim, to taste, to drive wild. So tell me-would you be mine? Would you dare turn these cūm-stained pages?

— "Porte quelque chose que je peux facilement retirer. On ne sait jamais." Le message fait monter une chaleur dans mes joues. Je tape ma réponse, mes doigts tremblants : "On verra." Tout a commencé par une odeur. Du romarin, du beurre qui grésille, et quelque chose de sucré s'infiltrant par ma fenêtre dans ce nouvel appartement parisien. Je venais de quitter Thomas, de tourner la page sur quatre années tièdes et confortables. Je cherchais un nouveau départ. Je ne m'attendais pas à trouver l'obsession. Matthieu Beaumont. Chef trois étoiles. Beau comme un péché. Intense comme un incendie. Notre histoire a commencé avec un repas partagé et un regard échangé à travers une cour intérieure. Elle a explosé dans une passion dévorante qui m'a consumée plus vite que je n'aurais cru possible. — "Goûte ça," murmure-t-il en me tendant une fourchette, ses yeux sombres ne quittant jamais les miens. "Et ferme les yeux." Le gémissement qui m'échappe le fait sourire ce sourire carnassier qui devrait m'effrayer mais qui, à la place, fait naître un feu dans mon ventre. — "Ce son," dit-il d'une voix rauque. — "J'ai envie de te l'entendre faire encore et encore. Mais pas pour de la nourriture." Trois jours. Il m'a fallu trois jours pour tomber amoureuse d'un homme que je connaissais à peine. C'est l'histoire d'un chef qui cuisine comme il fait l'amour : avec une intensité qui vous laisse pantelant et en redemandant. Ceci est notre histoire. Crue. Honnête. Pimentée.

Quatre années de mariage. Sa seule signature m'a rendue libre. Il n'a jamais su ce qu'il signait. Je suis Sophie Moreau, l'épouse invisible de Julien Moreau, héritier de la famille mafieuse la plus puissante de la ville. Mais le jour où Victoria, son amour d'enfance, brillante et privilégiée, est revenue, j'ai enfin compris : je n'avais toujours été qu'une passagère. Alors, j'ai joué mon dernier coup. J'ai glissé les papiers sur son bureau — un divorce habilement déguisé en simples formulaires universitaires. Julien a signé sans même y jeter un second regard, sa plume griffonnant la page avec autant de désinvolture qu'il en avait eu pour notre mariage. Il n'a pas vu qu'il mettait fin à notre mariage. Mais je suis partie avec bien plus que ma liberté. Sous mon manteau, je portais l'héritier qu'il n'avait jamais imaginé… un secret qui pourrait le détruire le jour où il comprendrait ce qu'il avait perdu. À présent, Julien, qui ne m'avait jamais remarquée, retourne le monde pour me retrouver. Du sommet de son penthouse jusqu'aux bas-fonds, il fouille chaque recoin, soulève chaque pierre. Sauf que je ne suis pas une proie apeurée qui attend qu'on la capture. Je me suis reconstruite hors de sa portée — là où aucun membre de Moreau ne peut me suivre. Cette fois, je ne supplierai pas pour son amour. C'est lui qui suppliera pour le mien.

"You can scream. Nobody's coming to save you." His c^ck is buried so deep I feel it in my ribs. My wrists are tied above my head with his belt while another man feeds his c^ck into my mouth. I'm gagging, drooling, mascara running down my cheeks, and my pussy is clenching so hard the one inside me groans. * * * This book contains extreme sexual content on every page. Gangbangs. Breeding. BDSM. Knotting. Choking. Double penetration. If your pussy isn't throbbing by the end of this warning, this book isn't for you. If you want something filthy. Something with thick cocks and rough hands and a voice that growls "good girl" while he's buried inside you. Something you'd never say out loud but your body responds to so hard your panties are wet before the fantasy even finishes playing. This book is that fantasy. Ten times over. C^cks shoved down throats until she's choking and drooling and begging with her eyes because her mouth is too full to speak. Pussies stretched around men so thick her walls ache for days. Two c^cks inside her at once while a third fills her mouth. Knots swelling and locking, pumping her so full her stomach feels heavy. Faces slapped mid-thrust while she whispers "again." Men who spit in her mouth, cum inside her raw, and don't let her clean up before the next one takes his turn. No slow burn. No fade to black. No soft landing. Just raw, graphic, unfiltered filth that starts on page one and doesn't let up until the final sentence. If the thought of being pinned, stretched, filled, bred, and used until cum is running down both your thighs makes something tighten low in your stomach, open the book. They're waiting. And they don't play gentle.