Femboy Thick Thighs

TRIGGER WARNING: Contains sexual content, violence, slavery, and abuse. 18+ only. Read at your own risk. ~ ALPHA IAN ~ I’ve got a stunning wife. But I don’t love her. Hell, I don’t even like her. She’s just there—to be used, by me… and every male I allow. In my pack, power is everything. We share our women. We crush weaker packs for sport. Love? Mates? That’s a fairytale— The Moon Goddess cursed us long ago, and we stopped believing in that shit. But then I raided the Blood Moon Pack… And found her. A filthy little omega. Weak. Fragile. Worthless. She was supposed to be nothing. Yet here I am, obsessed. I can’t stand anyone touching her. I want to tear her clothes off… Grip her thighs and shove myself deep inside her sweet, untouched body. Again. And again. Until she knows who owns her. I want to break her. Mark her. And make her beg for more.

“C-Claus, please. I cannot-no more,” My shivering voice failed to stop him and he fastened his pace. “The night is young, little mouse. I’m gonna wreck you and every thought you have of escaping,” he was still holding a grudge against me for trying to run away. “I gave you a choice, be my slave or wife, and here you chose the former. Tell me, Hazel, what am I ought to do if my wife is squirming in the arms of another male, batting her lashes at him, and pressing this,” he smacked across my bare bottom hard and I winced shutting my eyes. “This body of a temptress against him,” I didn’t know my actions would fuel him like this. He was being overly unreasonable. He released inside me enormous times, and still, his length was hard and angry, ready to demolish my weeping core. Our mixed fluids seeped through me to paint my inner thighs but this barbarian refuse to stop.

“ let that wetness drip. I want to see what I do to you without even touching You “ He stared at her trembling fragile figure who stood naked in front of him with wetness dripping down her thighs making her cheeks burn in shame and embarrassment and he just sat there, staring at her. “ Please …… daddy “ —————————— He was my father’s best friend and a very close family friend. I had been in love with him since I was fifteen. He was the man of my dreams but Also a man I could never have. A man who could make me feel tingles. One night and It changed everything. I was in bed, letting my hand satisfy the needs and desires of my dark fantasies when he had just walked in, catching me disheveled and messed up. That night he had helped me and that was the first time I had gotten off. I thought it was a step closer to our relationship but He made it clear, he wanted to be a father figure to me. But his body opposed his words. I knew Luciano Morelli wanted me just as much as I did or maybe more.

Then without breaking the kiss his hand slid down, fingers brushing between my thighs with maddening control. He played with me lazily at first, teasing circles around my folds, making my hips jerk. I moaned into his mouth as one finger dipped lower, then retreated, just to torment me. “Azrik…” I gasped. He pulled back only to whisper, “Patience. Or I’ll tie you to this bed and take my time.” The way he said it raw, full of threat and promise, had me clenching around nothing. *** She was supposed to be Beta. She ended up betrayed, branded, and carrying the Lycan King’s mark. When Lunessa's mate-to-be betrays her with her best friend, she’s left humiliated and heartbroken, until a mysterious stranger steps in. One night with him changes everything. Now hunted, pregnant, and hiding in a world that’s forgotten her worth, Lunessa must uncover the truth behind the man who saved her, and the bond that could destroy or save them both. Betrayals run deep, secrets run deeper, and when old flames ignite a war, only one thing is certain, the moon never forgets her chosen.

He straddled me, his hips swirling in slow, maddening circles. His body was right there, pressing into mine, and I couldn’t escape it; I didn’t want to. His hands found mine and guided them to his chest, and when my palms touched his warm skin, I was gone. My pulse was a blur of frantic beats pounding in my ears, drowning out the crowd's cheers and whistles. With his face inches from mine, Alec leaned in. His breath ghosted over my lips, his smile, cocky, knowing, playful, and somehow tender all at once. “You okay there?” he asked with an amused tone, and I opened my mouth, desperate to say something—anything—but nothing came out. My throat was dry, my skin was on fire and my mind was completely blank. All I could do was stare at him, completely mesmerized by how his body moved against mine and that wicked smirk on his lips. Before I knew it, heat pooled low in my belly, spreading downward, and I instinctively clenched my thighs together to stop the throbbing that ignited between my legs, but it was too late as I dampened the soft leather.

"I want you," She said to him, her hands on his chest, her thighs trapping him between the bed and the headboard, her eyes boring deep into his. "Take what you need, flower." his voice was a whisper, one that left dark promises in it's wake of what was to come. "I'm all yours..." ... Halle witnesses a murder, something she wished she could run from but instead finds herself housing the murderer for three whole days, doing almost everything at gun point. But that was not what made things even more difficult for her, it was the tension between them. Those mysterious brown eyes... That cold smile... That deep voice... His warm breath against her skin. She knew she couldn't love him... He walks out of her life as suddenly as he barged into it and she finds herself pushing those three days spent with him to the back of her mind, a dream that was over. Three years later, she finds herself in his house as the woman being paid to be birth him an heir. She is dragged into his dark world, shown the true nature of his empire. In the end, will it be blood or love between them? .....

What's happens when Isabella Joe, a beautiful, young and talented struggling art conservator, who is on the verge of losing her late father's most treasured art gallery. In search of a breakthrough she crashes into an extravagant billionaire gala, only to be thrown off guard when her first encounter with Noah Jack leads a rather embarrassing moment. The mysterious billionaire Noah Jack, who's wildly reputed for lacking emotions proposes an irresistible offer to Isabella to act as his girlfriend in exchange for financial assistance, that will save both her gallery, and the ever increasing pressure from his family to settle down. Isabella agrees out of sheer desperation, only to be thrown into a whirlwind of deception and desire. The thick lines they drew between fake and reality begins to blur. And what started as a transaction quickly becomes a dangerous game that either of them ever expected. A steamy clash between two desperados is unleashed.

Fear  Noun 1. a distressing emotion aroused by impending danger, evil, pain, etc., whether the threat is real or imagined; the feeling or condition of being afraid. Synonyms: foreboding, apprehension, consternation, dismay, dread, terror, fright, panic, horror, trepidation, qualm. Until that night, Kinsley never knew true fear, never felt terror. She could taste the fear on her tongue, salty with a hint of copper, her throat felt constricted. She wanted to scream but the terror was too thick in her throat, coating it to the point of near suffocation. She was prey and he was the hunter who never failed. Verendus was powerful, a ruthless and cruel Boss, he did not fail and he did not quit. Kinsley Anderson was a woman he coveted, and he would stop at nothing to claim her. He had the means and the manpower to pursue her to the ends of the earth and he would do it, claiming her once and for all.

The year I was at my poorest, I impersonated my sister to take care of her blind fiancé in exchange for one hundred thousand dollars. On the day he regained his sight, I left without a word. When we met again, it was during a business interview. I was a nameless intern reporter. He had returned to his rightful status as the heir of the influential Hughes family. During the interview, the host asked, "We’ve heard that during your illness, your fiancée, Miss Dawson, stayed by your side through thick and thin. The two of you are about to get married?" He lifted his hand slightly, revealing a ring, and his lips curled into a faint smile. "Yes, we’re getting engaged soon." Yet, his gaze, through the lens of his glasses, landed—intentionally or not—on me, standing in the corner.

I asked my husband for a divorce during the most difficult year of his life. Everyone condemned me, calling me heartless, but I still forced him to sign the divorce papers. Later, he overcame his struggles and rose to become a powerful CEO. I avoided him for two years, believing I’d never cross paths with him again—until he caught me at my most wretched. His eyes brimmed with hatred as he stared at me. In front of everyone, he humiliated me and relentlessly forced me to down a bottle of vodka. I vomited uncontrollably, blood gushing from my mouth in thick streams. He mocked me, telling me it was the retribution I deserved for betraying him. I didn’t argue. I let him torment me. After all, I was already dying. If that made him content, so be it.