Forehead Touching

My husband—one of the top elites of Raventon Street, cold and ruthless to his core—keeps a stray orphan girl he rescued from the slums hidden in an apartment. Rowena Fletcher is clean and fragile, like a newborn creature untouched by the world. And somehow, that innocence softens something in Micah Benson—a man who's spent years clawing his way through the brutal wilderness of capital. He thinks this secret game of his goes unnoticed, but I find out anyway. At the Benson family's charity gala, I smash his favorite antique vase in front of everyone. He doesn't even flinch as he simply signals the bodyguards to clean up the mess and then hands me a divorce agreement. "Sign it, Sabrina. The penthouse in Ashbourne City is yours." I burn the divorce agreement—and that's when he finally shows his true colors. He freezes all my accounts and launches a hostile takeover of my gallery. On the night the storm hits, I get a call from the hospital. My sister, Roberta Slater, has been in a car crash—she needs emergency surgery. In the security footage, he stood there, watching coldly. "Sign the papers, or start planning a funeral." I dropped to my knees and slammed my forehead against the floor, blood trailing down my face as I begged, "Micah, please… don't…" A long, flat beep echoed from the other end of the line, slicing through the sound of rain. Then a voice on the line says, "We did everything we could." However, I have gone back in time—to the day I first found out about Rowena. This time, I no longer cry. Instead, I plan my divorce on my own terms. I call Valebrook Bank that same night and begin preparing for a quiet disappearance. But the moment I truly vanish from his world, Micah loses his mind.

“Kiss me.” The words tumbled out and Lex stepped back instantly. He turned away from her and Isis felt her pride being butchered. “Isis, I-” His voice travelled through the room. It was laced with uncertainty. His back was still to her. "I am sorry. I shouldn’t have asked. I-uh. Good bye, Mr. Greyson.” Isis replied as she slid off the desk. She needed to leave, before her embarrassment killed her. Isis grabbed her bag and stalked off towards the door. A grip like iron encased her shoulder and she was spun around to face Mr. Greyson, he pushed her against the door and dropped her bag onto the floor. He pinned her body with his, a hand around her waist bringing her body against his and his other hand cupping her face. He ran his thumb along her lower lips and took satisfaction in her shuddering. He drew her hands up and anchored them above her head, pinning them to the door. His mouth slowly covered hers and moved teasingly. Isis gasped at the skillful movement of his lips against hers. He possessed her fully, slipping his tongue into her mouth. He tasted her, devoured her and nothing was sweeter for Lex. He fought to control his natural instincts firing to life and focused on giving her this but he was certain he would gain the most pain from it. He knew he would never forget this kiss, never meet its equal. He pulled away from her, their breath labored. He rested his forehead against hers and committed the moment to memory. He leaned off her, let her hands drop to her sides, he handed Isis her bag. "Good bye, Ms. Davenport.” He replied with some pain as he turned the door knob and allowed her to leave.

Aria was once a woman full of dreams. She didn’t know she was married to a nightmare. She wed Elliot—the struggling Alpha of the Crimson Claw, with no vows under the Moon Goddess or celebration. She brought a generous dowry and transformed their pack into the third-strongest in the Federation. But power breeds greed. And love… it was never truly hers. Discarded, framed, and betrayed by the very man she uplifted, Aria walks away from it all. She’s taking control, rewriting her story with every breath. This time, Aria isn’t just surviving. She’s reclaiming her destiny. Excerpt: “From the first moment I saw you, something inside me reacted," Mason muttered. He ran a hand through his hair, frustrated. “But you already have a mate—Elliot. That should’ve been the end of it." He stepped forward again. “I don’t know what’s happening to me… or to my wolf. But being near you—it feels like you’re my mate… even if you're not.” His voice cracked slightly. “It just keeps getting stronger every damn day. It’s driving me insane, Aria.” “Mason—” Aria whispered, unsure if she would stop him or beg to keep going. “Your scent is like a drug… your touch, it short-circuits everything. Logic. Control. My own damn rules,” he murmured, leaning his forehead against hers. “I’m sorry, Aria. But I can’t hold it back anymore. If you run, I’ll let you—but make no mistake, I will chase you. Because right now… I have to do this or I'll go crazy!” “I’m not running.” Mason froze, stunned by her answer. “Do you want this? Do you want me?” he asked. “You don’t have to ask for permission…” she whispered. “I want you… all of you.”

One thousand years ago, Kunshiya kun was the king of the Dragon clan, an empire built with blood and enmity, after fighting with neighboring countries for hundred years Kunshiya kun won the heart of all the dragons in Atakar and he was named The dragon king, his Queen Tekiya was a beautiful and proud woman, she controlled the inner palace and made sure that no concubine laid any imperial egg successfully.... Kunshiya was sad and lonely because of his inability to produce heirs, his ministers always brought the topic up in the royal court which made him really bothered... Salsa was a Dragon slave whom he had met against the war with the east dragon country, the bounty dragon was a white scale dragon with dark green eyes, her lustful eyes caught Kunshiya’s heart , after a night with her ... He ordered her to be kept in a secret mansion outside the city because of Tekiya’s spies.... Kunshiya almost forgot about the White dragon until he dreamt of her talking and touching him.. “My king, we are going to have some hatchlings” Salsa whispered to Kunshiya in his dream. “My king I miss you” He couldn’t forget the vision he had last night, immediately the next day he sent for the Royal astronomer .. “My king, the vision is true! The moon goddes really have blessed you with hatchlings” The Royal Astronomer relayed In the inner palace a spy was seen whispering to a lady with a crown on her head, it was Queen Tekiya, after receiving the news Queen Tekiya smirk roared!! “ if I can’t lay any hatchlings, No imperial slut is allowed to give hatchling, as long as I’m in power I will kill them all”

"Onyx, remove your hand. If you continue to touch, you will lose." He chuckled as she exhaled "The condition was to not give in and fuck, Ophelia. I'm merely touching!" As his fingers returned to their former position, she forced herself to relax. She cursed herself in her head for setting the bar at fuck. When his fingers worked circles around her clit, she nearly died on the spot. As the moist fabric glided over her sensitive area, her release became more urgent, and she regulated her breathing as he quickened his speed. His gaze never left hers, as he watched the ecstasy wash over her face, she was growing desperate for release at this point and could just beg. "You simply have to ask, Ophelia, and I'll give you the release you want!" As her name flowed off his tongue, she shivered. "No!" Her voice was clipped, strained even. "Are you certain? Imagine how splendid it would feel when you cum all over my finger here under this table and when I fill your pussy after dinner. Raw and hard, just how you like it." Onyx Reighs is perhaps one of the finest Chief executives in town. He was respected by his subordinates and desired by females since he possessed every excellent precision a man should have as a leader. But by the end of the night, he was the most notorious player. To him, the purpose of life was to work hard and enjoy life to the fullest. No woman could ever resist his enchantments, and he hadn't expected to know the word "rejected" until she came to fly his bird. What will happened when the lady who rejected him turned out to be his soulmate?

"You shouldn't be touching me." he growled, his voice low and ragged, every muscle beneath her nimble fingers felt the tremors of restrained power. The heat of his skin radiated through her gloves. "If I stop, you'll bleed out." His hand shot up, curling gently-but firmly around her wrist. His eyes, a shade of hellish red in the dim lights, locked onto hers. "No, doctor," he whispered, his lips forming a stern pressed line. "If you stop, it won't be the blood that kills me. It'll be the hunger." Dr. Eleanor Airlea never believed in myths-until the night a wounded stranger staggered into her veterinary clinic under a blood-red moon. The wolfs injuries should have killed him, but his body healed with a feral strength she couldn't explain. His piercing eyes, wild and magnetic, left her both terrified and captivated. Raphael is no ordinary man-he's a werewolf, royalty no less with a bloodline that binds him to the violent laws of his pack and the forbidden desire that burns whenever Eleanor is near. In a world where hunters stalk the night and betrayal lurks under every silver light, their passion becomes as dangerous as it is irresistible. She's the healer who should fear him. He's the predator who has set his eyes upon her. And when blood and desire mix under the next full moon, neither of them will be able to resist the pull of destiny. "I don't care what you are," she said, her pulse racing as she held his gaze. "You were bleeding. You needed me." His lips curved into a dangerous smile. "Careful, doctor. Saving a wolf can make you his."

` It was a cool, breezy and stormy night. Rain came down in sheets, as a dark figure stood before a house. The house was pretty ordinary, white with blue shutters; it didn't have more than two bedrooms. It looked like a cozy little family home with flowers and shrubs lining the front lawn, and then the smell from the pellet stove smoke invaded his nostrils. He took a deep breath and pulled out an old, rusted compass from his black trench coat. It looked like it could have been from the 14th century, the small, brass disc was dented and the Victorian designs were faded. He studied it as it pointed east, towards the small house. He looked the house over carefully, looking for the best entrance, before proceeding towards the side to gaze into the window. Inside you can see the small kitchen; the brand new, all black appliances off set the linoleum floor. Cabinets filled almost every wall of the small space that made it look more crowded than it should have been. The kitchen opened to a larger room which seemed to be used as a living room and a dining room all at once. The whole house looked crowded, with the furniture in the living room all touching except for a small gap to walk through and the dining room was so close to the sofa, it could have been sitting on it. He stepped back into the shadows as he watched a young couple enter the kitchen. The wife was tall and slender, had strawberry blond hair formed around her face accenting her jaw-line and her deep blue eyes stopped your heart as you got lost in them. Her fair complexion was silky and complimented her soft face.

He closed the gap between us and his hand travelled to my waist, pulling me closer to himself. His cologne filled my nostrils and he cupped my face in his hand gently. The look in his eyes whenever he looked at me always seemed like he was watching something so ethereal and now wasn't any different. I was supposed to hate him, to not be able to stand him. But why was I letting him do this? And why did I like it too? Love it even? He smirked at me, leaning down with our lips almost touching, his minty breath fanning my face. "I'm fucking addicted and obsessed with you if you haven't noticed." He paused as he studied me while I took a deep breath. "Are you sure you can't stand me?" He asked. "Or are we going to keep on lying to ourselves, babydoll?" ~ Vittoria Belluci, popularly known as 'Lilith' is short tempered, bossy, fiesty, poor social skills and a beautiful resting bitch face. Roman Argentero, Brooklyn's popular mafia don known for his playboy status, cockiness, flirtatious behavior but also ruthless and finally his Greek god appearance. A one night stand in the past, an arranged marriage, a stupid bet, a hatred she has for him and his family, and an addiction he has to her. Will she find out how her sister died? Or who keeps wanting to kill off her family? And doing all that with a fragile promise to herself to not fall in love. What happens when a Belluci falls in love with an Argentero who is already addicted to her?

"Let me go," She said, twisting her arm, trying to wriggle out of his brutal hold. His proximity had her heart jackhammering in her ears as tears threatened to spill out. The beast of a man roughly turned her around before grabbing her delicate throat in his big veiny hand as he yanked her to him. His tan skin contrasted against her snow one as his thumb stroked the soft flesh of her swan-like neck. Her toes were barely touching the ground as she stared petrified at the man hovering over her seemingly deranged. His hot breath caressed her face and had chills running down her spine. He looked possessed. "You're mine, f*cking MINE!" He seethed a low rumble as she flinched away. His amber rims were blazing pits as they gazed at her with an unadulterated ferocity. Her chin wobbled and her plump lips trembled as the girl shook her head trying to get away from him and her struggles grew frantic. She was so scared. His jaw clenched and his nose flared in rage. "So you won't listen, huh." He rasped in a low snarl before letting her go. She took three steps away from him, clutching her hands on her chest. Her whole body trembled wildly as she saw him locking the door before he faced her while unbuttoning his shirt and her heart dropped down into the depths of utter terror, she shook her head involuntarily. "Strip, little tigress. Strip for me." He gritted viciously causing her heart to lurch to her mouth.

After giving birth to Alpha Wesley Silvermoon's pup, I fell into severe postpartum depression. Whenever the scent he left on me began to fade, I couldn't help but have the urge to hurt myself. It was Wesley who held me tight in his arms, kissing my forehead repeatedly, saying, "Don't be afraid, Maggie. The pup and I will stay with you, always." Every morning, he took me to see a therapist. In the afternoon, he handled the pack's affairs. At night, he fed Brett the pup himself. The dark circles beneath his eyes grew heavier by the day, yet he never once complained. Until one day. Brett was crying for his mother, while I hid in the bathroom, hurting myself. When Wesley saw what happened, he completely lost it. He grabbed me by the throat viciously. "If you don't want a pup, you shouldn't have had one! You gave birth to it, but you can't even take care of it! You don't deserve to be a mother!" He bellowed, "How much longer are you going to torment this family? You want to die so badly? Fine! I'll help you!" The moment he said that, he instantly came back to his senses. He broke his wrist and apologized to me. I didn't say anything, merely staring blankly at the phone that had fallen to the floor. The screen was still lit. 37 missed calls. All from the same name. Rowena Sawthorne. She was someone who had recently returned to the pack. Wesley's first love from his youth. She was healthy, beautiful, confident. She and Wesley were once the celebrity couple that everyone admired. Even Brett, whom I had nearly died giving birth to, would smile when she held him in her arms. Perhaps only she was worthy of being his mate, worthy of being Brett's mother. Maybe, this was for the best. At last, I could die without any worry.