Fluid Gate Draconic Evolution Novels & Stories

Desire doesn't tempt—it fucking consumes. It sinks its teeth into your morals, rips them apart, and leaves you dripping, desperate, and damned. This isn't romance. This is dark, obsessive, boundary-shattering filth. *Wet, Willing and Forbidden* delivers EXPLICIT ADULT CONTENT—throbbing cocks plunging deep, slick cunts clenching in surrender, mouths stretched around forbidden flesh, every raw, graphic thrust laid bare. These stories devour you with: - Obsession teetering on total ruin - Possessive, morally black lovers who brand skin with teeth and ownership - Brutal power exchange—collars, commands, choking grips - Dubious consent that melts resistance into frantic, quivering need - Public risk—fingers curling inside soaked panties in crowded elevators - Exhibitionism & voyeurism—eyes devouring heaving tits and straining cocks - Praise laced with vicious degradation—“good slut” hissed through gritted teeth - Total control, shattering surrender, deliberate corruption of the innocent - Feral, animal hunger—bodies slamming, clawing, flooding with sweat and cum - Secrets that torch reputations and leave lives in smoking ruins - Queer and fluid desire—tangled limbs, shared mouths, no rules - Toxic emotional manipulation—love as poison, addiction as chains Every page pulses with predatory chemistry and psychological heat. No safe words. No gentle aftercare. Just the brutal thrill of crossing lines that should never be touched. If your pulse isn't already racing and your thighs aren't already slick open this book anyway. Because once the craving takes hold, you'll be too far gone to stop.

Six years have passed since Dr. Hansen, Joseph, Karen and David escaped from the United States and took refuge in Argentina, where they lead a quiet life away from the memory of the violent events in New York. Peace of mind that will no longer be such, since in that city, an important businessman contacts the now private detectives Mark Forney and Doris Ventura with a very specific request: to locate Dr. Hansen and Joseph, under the pretext of protecting the latter and have reliable information that a recognized terrorist group will carry out a violent attack if the clone child of Jesus is not delivered to them to sacrifice him live before the world. Suspicious, they will accept the order without knowing that after that request a dangerous conspiracy is brewing that will put them in the middle of a conflict on a global scale, with the governments of the United States, Israel, Iran, the Vatican (with the first black Pope in its history) and others, and a very powerful secret brotherhood fighting to have the clone boy under their power. Conspiracy that little by little will reveal the dark interests of world domination by those involved in the conflict. Second book of the trilogy, where the author skillfully handles the birth and evolution of the conspiracy around the clone boy, now eleven years old, who is more aware of his origin and of his role in the world, but without being able to avoid that by his cause occurs terrible acts of violence against humanity, as part of that conspiracy.

Dark Mafia Scene “Who laid a hand on you? Dallion's voice was low, cold, and dangerous. His dark gaze bore into her, daring her to stay silent. When she didn’t respond, the tension snapped like a whip, his voice booming through the room, “Who?” The butler, standing rigid against the wall, swallowed hard before stammering out the words, “It... it was Mr. Rivers, sir.” The atmosphere turned deadly as Dallion's jaw clenched, fury igniting in his eyes. “Bring him to me.” The butler’s eyes widened in fear. “N-now, sir? It’s... it’s late.” Dallion's hand, once braced against the wall near her head, slowly curled into a fist. His eyes never left her face, his possessiveness was palpable. Without looking at the butler, his voice dropped to a lethal calm, “Do you need a better time? Or shall I break your legs to teach you urgency?” The butler didn’t need any more encouragement. He fled the room, returning twenty minutes later with a trembling Mr. Rivers. “Dallion, my friend, what’s all this about?” Rivers began, his voice casual as if nothing was amiss. But Dallion wasn't’t here for pleasantries. His eyes slid to the knife stabbed into the apple on the table, and in one fluid motion, he yanked it free, the blade glinting in the dim light. Without a word, Dallion grabbed Rivers outstretched hand, slamming it onto the table. The sharp scream that followed echoed in the room as Dallion, with one swift movement, sliced through the man’s fingers. Blood splattered across the polished wood as Rivers screamed in agony, clutching his mutilated hand. “No one touches what belongs to me,” Dallion's voice was eerily calm, his expression devoid of any sympathy.

My best friend breaks down and accuses me of skimming family shipments, which cost us billions. Without hesitation, my fiance, Don Scarpa Falcone, points a gun at me. The bullet grazes my ear. He sends me to prison himself, then gets engaged to my best friend instead. Before I'm taken away, the family butler begs him, "You raised her yourself. She's your fiancee. You can't just ruin her life like this!" "Break the rules, and pay in blood," he says, polishing his gun. "As for her future, I'll decide that later." Five years later, I walk out of prison. The entire Falcone family is waiting at the gate with him, as if my freedom were a handout. "Looks like you've learned your lesson. It's time to return and get back to work. Don't do anything stupid again," he says. I ignore him and walk straight to the stretch Lincoln behind him. The door opens. Chris Corleone, the king of the Aurelian underworld, raises his glass to me. "Welcome back, partner."

All because of Leo Cullen’s words, I gave up a place at a top-tier university in Ceres and stayed behind to retake the entrance exams with him—three times. By the fourth year, a girl arrived at our cram school, and Leo forgot the promise we made. He started skipping class, picking fights, smoking—doing everything but studying. One day, I stood at the school gate, blocking his path with a textbook in hand as he tried to ditch class. He smirked, unimpressed, and blew a bubble with his gum, letting it stick to the ends of my hair. “Naomi…,” he began, “who still cares about studying these days?” So I stopped caring and avoided him entirely. When he fooled around in the classroom, I went to the library. When he played basketball, I sat in a quiet corner with my books. Even when I craved noodles from my favorite shop, I’d scan the room first to make sure he wasn’t there. “Are you avoiding me, Naomi?” he asked later, his face in a frown. I shook my head. “Why would you think that?”

Isaac held her hand with the depleting energy in him, his body shaking as he felt the steady stream of crimson fluid pumping out of his heart and flowing down his skin, staining his vest. She tried to pull the scissors out again, but he held on tighter, squeezing his face at the searing pain. "Love," He mumbled, looking into her cold eyes. Natalie pulled at the scissors, but he held on with every little energy he had in him, shaking his head in plea that she'd stop. She didn't, and his tenacity made her twist the tool, and he let out a painful groan, a hot drop of tear escaping his eyes. ... As he laid there with four bleeding puncture wounds in his body, his bloodshot eyes fell on her unconscious body, and more painful tears trickled down his face. He had failed. He had failed his wife and son. *** Natalie Cabel's life changes from bitter to bittersweet after a one-night stand with Isaac Bardekk, heir apparent to the throne of Bardaen. His love was contagious and bewitching, and she found herself helplessly wanting him in her forever. But a lady without roots could never be a crown princess of such a powerful kingdom, especially not one who lived a promiscuous life. Isaac, however, was not ready to give up as he promised her a new identity, prestige, and immunity in return for her being a faithful wife. For how long, though, and to what extent can she remain immune to hate and adversity from the queen consort? The queen mother? Her father-in-law, the king? And the subjects? If so, can she really uphold her faithfulness and be free from her husband's hate? Even when Vincent, Isaac's stepbrother, targets that?

To let Alpha Duncan's first love become the mother of our son, my husband didn’t hesitate to commit perjury in court and personally send me, his wife, to prison. Four years later, after I was released, just as I was starting to regain hope for life, dozens of luxury cars showed up at the prison gate, with two people stepping out. “How could you?! How could you do something so evil?! You should never have been my mom. I wish Auntie Ashley has always been my mother!” My heart broke. Seeing my husband and son again, I felt like they were real demons, turning me away so easily. Just then, the little boy beside me stepped forward. “Don’t bully Mommy!” Hearing this, my biological son angrily asked, “Who are you calling ‘mommy’?! I’m her only son!” I didn’t want to deal with them or explain anything. I just wanted to live a good life with my Justin. I crouched down, hugged him, comforted him in saying, “Justin, there’s nothing to say to these people... We’re overstaying our welcome. Come on.” “Halt right there!”

“I still don’t understand how Dad fell for my Mom. I mean she is Indian and he is Australian. How did he?” I asked him tapping my chin. “That’s the specialty of Indian women. Anyone can fall in love with them.” He replied shrugging like it is the silliest question. “Do only Indian women have that specialty or even men?” I asked raising my eyebrow. “Of course!” he replied pulling me to him. “But I am unable to see anything special in you though.” I mumbled to which he narrowed his eyes. “Then the problem must be in you.” He mumbled back with a strong glare. “Ouch! Anyway, do you have the specialty you are saying to deserve me?” I asked him smirking. “What?” he asked with shocked face. I laughed before pushing him away and rushed towards the main gate thinking he will just catch me. However, I turned around and asked him “Do you?” with a serious tone this time. ------------------- A girl who wishes that the people with whom she stays must deserve her but not because she wants to feel arrogant or superior. It is just so that she can get assurance that she will not get hurt by them. She will not settle for anything less no matter what…

Daniel and Stefany had been friends since childhood. They seemed inseparable, always spending time together, playing and having fun to create beautiful memories that they would remember in their adulthood. Especially when Christmas arrived, Daniel and Stefany always made appointments to meet at an old church in the village to spend Christmas Eve together by playing snowball fights, lighting fireworks and creating snowmen. As teenagers, they became more intimate and the seeds of romance began to emerge between them. However, because they were comfortable with a very close friendship. It made Daniel and Stefany deliberately keep their feelings of affection in their respective hearts. Until one day Daniel plucked up the courage to express his love for Stefany. But unfortunately the girl's family had moved to the city, and left the village where they had been living. Years passed, Daniel kept waiting for Stefany to return to the village. He always waited for the girl to come and meet him in front of the gate of a church every Christmas. But Stefany never came. What is Daniel's fate next? Will the man be able to forget his childhood love? Where has Stefany been all this time? Will they meet again? Curious about the continuation? Come on ... please read!

The housekeeper, who was always punctual, was late today. "Madam, I'm so sorry… dinner isn't ready yet. Please don't be upset with me…" "But this time, there was no helping it. I waited downstairs for over half an hour, and no one swiped in. I even called Mr. Gregory, but he didn't answer. That's why I'm late." My hand froze mid-motion as I was changing shoes, and a frown creased my brow. "Lydia," I said, "didn't I have Richard give you the access card?" Lydia Pendel froze, her face blank. "Access card? Mr. Gregory never gave me one." "Never?" I repeated. "Yes," she said, wiping the sweat from her forehead, her voice careful. "All this past month, I've been sneaking in whenever another resident opened the door, or calling Mr. Gregory so he could let me in. "Today, Mr. Gregory didn't answer at all, so I was stuck downstairs, feeling helpless…" That was strange. Because over the past month, the electronic lock on the front gate had clearly recorded swipes from that backup card.