Fire Boy Water Girl Novels & Stories

Callan kissed me thoroughly, fanning the flames between us before nibbling my lip.Craving more, I opened my mouth in sweet invitation. He ran his tongue along mine, and then deepened the kiss. I clung to the sides of his shirt, swaying into him. Callan’s hands drifted down to grab my bottom and pull me fully against him. I could feel his hardness against my thigh.“Callan…” I whispered as his lips trailed down my neck.“Mhm?” Callan murmured against my skin.“Make love to me.”***After a breakup hat led to the loss of her business, Isla has a no-dating policy when it comes to coworkers. She’s a woman with something to prove, and no man is going to take it from her this time.Except, perhaps, CEO Callan. After a steamy night, Callan is determined to break down Isa’s icy walls.Can Isa let go of the past and risk it all forCallan? Or will she be just another new girl?Not Just Another New Girl is created by Scarlett Rossi, an eGlobal Creative Publishing signed author.

The sexiest, rawest, and darkest erotica collection is here and readily available to spin your world and leave wet spots between your legs. Welcome to the home of the craziest form of love you have been searching for. This Erotica Collection is written and curated for your wildest fantasies🔥🔥🔥 Built in with all the sneakiest love bites you've always wanted to experience. Grab your lube, oil your fingers, let's be raw and sexy everyone!! Warnings: 18+++++ LGBTQIA+, Chains, gags, whipping, bloodplay, breathplay, Dominance, Submission, Control, Blindfolds, handcuffs...

If you are going to be BAD, then you have to do it the BAD way... It's pretty simple: 1) Don't get caught 2) Always have a Plan B 3) If all else fails... Run...Run for your life! Everyone has a bad side. Some try to deny it's existence, some hide it and others well...they rule the world with it. In the book of being BAD, there are ninety-nine formulas for world domination... Number one: You aren't BAD until you can walk around the school dressed in all pink and have everyone afraid to approach you. Number two: You aren't BAD until you can break into a certain bad boys house and well... do the wrong kinds of stuff. Number three: You aren't bad until quite frankly, you have declared vengeance against the bad boy. ~*~ "I heard you like bad boys," Blade says with a vivid smirk on his face. I glared up at him, without responding clenching my fists fighting the urge to punch him in the face. "So...?" He says after a couple of seconds of silence. "So what?" "So what do you think...Tinker Bell?" He says emphasizing on the stupid name. His face moved closer to mine and I stared back into his green eyes, watching the fire inside ignite. I smirked, "Then find me one." Blade grins at my witty retort and shrugs it off. "I look at you and I see cotton candy, but then you open your mouth... and suddenly you turn into liquorice," he scoffs. "Welcome to the game bitch, your move, now let's play."

"Sasha, Mira's already engaged to Vincent. Stop messing with it. We booked your flight. You'll stay overseas until after the wedding." The whole 'this is for your own good' routine was back. That's when Sasha Clarke realized—she'd been given a second shot. Right to the day her parents forced her out of the country and made her give up Vincent Scythe.

"Cali, drop the knife, you know it is never that hard that you have to kill yourself." "For the last time Blake. I'm not suicidal!!" I throw the knife away. "Then why were you holding that knife?" He asked, worried. I then showed him the apple in my other hand. ------------- Cali Evans, 17, a normal girl with a wacky attitude and sass. Life was going smooth for her until Blake happened. Blake Sanders, 18, the popular, hot, bad boy finds a new mission when he meets Cali. One misunderstanding, a sarcastic girl and a bad boy equals to food fights, bowling nights, dangerous knifes, terrace conversations, monopoly games and maybe some love.

He was so stubborn, adamant not to marry the girl he had never encountered with. She was left alone standing at the altar, humiliated. Her betrothed left her alone on their wedding day. Eight years later, they finally locked eyes. In the most stupid place and even more stupid condition. The worst part? He fell in love with her. Hard. He had to start from below zero, making up his mistakes for a girl from the past. Wouldn't stop until she accepts him anymore. But we know trouble always gets in the way. A big one. This may sound like a fight he could never win.

It was not until after I married Bennett that I found out he had a clingy little childhood friend who loved to play the victim. On the very first day of our marriage, at dinner, I simply asked Bennett to pass me a bite of food. She immediately exploded. "Holly, you're disgusting! Bennett already used those utensils, and you seriously asked him to serve you food? What, don't you have hands?" I froze, completely blindsided. Before I could even react, Bennett put down his spoon and went straight to her, wrapping her in his arms like she was the one who had been wronged. Then he turned to me and said I should just get my own food from now on. However, honestly, wasn't it normal for a husband to serve his wife a bite? What was so outrageous about that? I barely got a word out before Bennett shut me down in a low, firm voice. "That's final. If Rosie doesn't like it, then we're not doing it. End of discussion."

It was my first day back to school and I had fallen into the arms of my chemistry teacher, Mr. Dalton. I had planned to scale through the remaining semesters in Bellingham High School like a ghost but it seemed impossible because I kept running into the arms of this man who made my body burn with desires and my world spin. He’s my teacher and I'm his student but I prefer to be called His Pet. There was much more to know about this man, much more than I had expected.

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.

When dorm picks opened, two beds were left. My hometown girl, Chloe Parker, beat me by a step and grabbed Room 501—the honors suite. That left me with Room 502, the rich-girl suite. In 501, the try-hards rode her nonstop. She made grad school. In 502, I ran errands and pulled five grand a month. At graduation, she snapped and shoved me off the roof. "It's all your fault. Without you, I wouldn't wake up every day buried in studying. How'd you stack hundreds of thousands in four years while all I got was a useless grad school offer?" I opened my eyes. Dorm selection day. Behind me, Chloe shoved past and lunged forward. "I'm picking first. I want 502."