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Her nipples pebbled instantly under thin silk,clit throbbing against soaked panties. He didn’t rise. He just watched her approach like prey, voice low and rough. “Kneel.” The command slammed into her cunt. Her knees buckled, hitting carpet hard. Slick dripped down her thighs; she trembled in needy. He smirked, filthy. “Already dripping for a stranger, desperate little slut.” She whimpered, hips twitching. Thick fingers gripped her chin, thumb shoving into her mouth. “Tell Daddy what this greedy pussy craves.” Her voice broke. “Please, Daddy, touch me. Fuck me raw. Stretch me on your thick cock. Use me like your filthy whore. I need you inside me now.” His eyes darkened. “Such a dirty mouth.” He fisted her hair, yanked her face to his straining bulge. She mouthed it desperately, inhaling musk and heat, tongue pressing through denim. He unzipped slowly. Heavy, veined cock sprang free, glistening tip leaking. “Open wide, baby.” She obeyed. He fed her the head, then deeper, thrusting until she gagged, drool spilling, eyes watering as she moaned around him. “Good girl. Choke on Dad's cock.” He pulled out, spun her, bent her over the couch arm. Skirt flipped up, panties ripped aside. “Fuck, look at this soaked, dripping cunt. Made for me.” Two thick fingers plunged in, curling hard. She screamed, walls clenching. Then his cock slammed balls-deep in one brutal thrust. The stretch burned into ecstasy; he fucked her mercilessly, hips slapping, hand on her throat, ass stinging from sharp slaps. “Who owns this pussy?” “You do, Daddy, please.” “Beg for my cum. Beg me to breed you.” “Please, fill me, breed me, pump me full.” He pulled out slow, watching his spend drip from her wrecked hole. Then softer, he kissed her forehead. “My perfect, filthy girl. Daddy’s just getting started.”

Eliza Just a few more months until I'm free from this town, but more importantly free from my Father. Nothing was going to get in the way of my great escape. Not even when Ryan, the high school heart-throb, takes an interest in me. But when Zak, shows up that first day of school, I know things are going to get complicated as I instantly feel the connection. Zak When I first saw her, I knew my fate was sealed with hers. There she sat, my fated mate. The only problem was she was human and I was a werewolf. The council would never allow her to become Luna. I had to stay away from her to protect her, but could I resist the mate pull?

Behind velvet curtains and gilded balconies, the opera is more than a performance. It's a hunting ground, a court of monsters disguised as patrons and benefactors. When a masked nobleman claims her talent as his own, Lyria is drawn into a world where music is power, restraint is survival, and desire is the most dangerous temptation of all. The longer Lyria remains under his protection, the more she awakens. Her body responds to hungers she does not yet understand and her are dreams invaded by a silver-eyed predator who promises freedom instead of restraint. As the opera's beauty curdles into something predatory, Lyria must decide what she is willing to become to survive it. The stage is watching. The city is listening. And once the blood sings, it cannot be silenced. TRIGGER/CONTENT WARNING: This story contains mature themes and content intended for adult audiences (18+) Reader discretion is advised. It includes moments of violence, sexual content and dark erotic elements, manipulation, obsession, and emotional power dynamics.

During the height of the plague, Elizabeth is known for touching the dying without fear and for surviving longer than anyone should. The village calls her witch. Death calls her interesting. Malachor is a demon bound to plague and passing souls, ancient and cruel, intrigued by a healer who refuses to beg. When Elizabeth is condemned, thrown into a plague pit, and left to die, she calls out, not to God, but to the darkness watching her. He answers. Bound to a demon of death, Elizabeth survives… and is slowly claimed. Desire becomes devotion. Mercy becomes sin. A dark historical fantasy romance of plague, power, and forbidden surrender where love corrupts, salvation fails, and Hell is the only vow kept. TRIGGER/CONTENT WARNING: This story contains mature themes and content intended for adult audiences (18+) Reader discretion is advised. It includes moments of violence, coercion and domination themes, sexual content and dark erotic elements, emotional trauma and moral corruption, blasphemous themes involving demons, faith, and damnation

TRIGGER WARNING: This book contains physical harm, torture, explicit contents including— Dark themes, erotic sex scenes, non consensual situations. And mature topics including trauma, loss. While this is a romance story, READER DISCRETION IS ADVISED. — — — — — — — — — — — — “You’re mine now,” he breathed those words on my neck, his hands trailing down my body and stopping only to linger on my thighs. “I’m Axel Salvatore Rossi. And whatever I want— I get.” * * * * * Bound to a man she barely knew, Olivia is confined to a world of games and organized crime. After her sister steals a priceless item, she’s left to pay— with her existence being tied with the mafia lord, Axel. What starts as an unexpected encounter turns out to be something more. Passion ignites, past secrets are revealed, and an ex lover knocks at the door to interrupt a new beginning. Olivia must make a choice— play the game, or fight the players who play dirty…

BLURB ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** You can’t force me to go with you,” I sneered. “I will carry you myself, Vanessa, if you insist on acting like a kid.” “I‘ll yell out for help, someone will hear.” “And sentence your loved ones to death? I think not,” he squinted. “What was their name again, Alena… Eugene" “Kai, don’t you dare touch my loved ones!” I said in gritted teeth as I walked closer to him, warning him, “Or else I will— He scoffed, and he grabbed my hand. “You will what? Huh?” Tears began to fall freely from my eyes. “Kia, don’t touch the ones I love!” I said in between tears. “We made a deal,” he said, grabbing my hands as I struggled to be free from his grip. “There is no going back. If you ever run away again, I won’t even give you a preview, you will attend the funeral of your loved ones.” his voice was dangerously low. Hot tears fell from my eyes. “I won’t touch you, so that you can suffer for your mistake,” he smirked. “You and I know, the pain is worse than death,” he said in a whisper. I closed my eyes and let tears cascade down my cheeks. I now understood what I had done. Understood that I had made a deal with the monster who was once my lover. I was foolish to think he had changed.

“No! Please, Santiago--” I whimpered, as his hand seized my wrist with an iron grip, yanking me forward, dragging me effortlessly toward the chair he had pulled into the center of the room the night before. The symbol of my humiliation. He stopped right in front of the chair, spinning me around, facing him. "You want me to be your monster, mi ángel?" His hand grabbed my throat, tilting my chin up until my eyes locked with his dark gaze. I flinched from the sudden movement. "Cause I’ll be your favorite monster — just say the word, cariño." Santiago’s face hovered only inches from mine. His lips so close, I could taste the sweetness of his breath — once making butterflies take flight in my stomach, now curdling my insides into a cold, suffocating fear. Slowly, his free hand rose toward my face. I held my breath. His touch was deceptively soft and gentle, caressing my cheek. His thumb lingered against my lips, tracing them slowly, his eyes fixed there as he spoke — his voice soft, yet heavy with menace. "Divorce is not an option, mi amor. We took a vow five years ago. Remember?" He finally lifted his gaze to meet mine, catching every flicker of fear before he delivered his last words like a verdict: "Till death do us part."

“Be a good girl for me and come fucking closer.” Alfred’s voice was husky, and angry. It made me dizzy with sinful lust. I gulped as I obediently closed the distance between us. He inched even closer and I felt my breath hitch when his hands found my thighs and I was hosteled up, back plastered against a wall in an instant. “Who am I?” “My- my husband.” I whispered, mouth quivering. His fingers tangled in my hair, a kiss against my arched throat. “That’s right. You belong to me, and not my fucking idiotic brother. I own everything– your body, your heart and your soul. They’re all mine.” ~~~~ Bella had her life mapped out. Go to med school, graduate, make enough money to get her father and brother a better life, and fall in love. Her plans were destroyed when she found out she had been promised to a Mafia Don as a collateral for a debt. Alfred Winston was someone no sane person wanted to mess with– he was ruthless, filthily rich and very powerful; he wields authority like second nature. How is life as the wife of a Mafia’s Don going to be for Bella? It sure as hell won’t be a bump free ride when Alfred’s younger brother– Damien, was smoking hot and hell bent on heating Bella’s curvy body up with that smoke, and let’s not forget the amount of dangers lurking at every damn corner, ready to consume Bella at the slightest opportunity.

Chase Grimm's aide-de-camp sent me a screenshot of an Instagram Live status. Guess who it came from. His new secretary. She was showing off a meticulously prepared lunch from a lunchbox. My handiwork, no less. I made it for him. The caption read: [He's a dark, cold CEO… and a shiny knight who saved a hungry princess with a gastric problem from eating mac 'n' cheese again!] Chase almost never posted on Instagram. Yet there he was, sharing a photo of a cup of ridiculously spicy mac 'n' cheese, captioned: [I have missed this.] The nerve of this prick. Then my mother-in-law sent an entirely unsolicited text: [What the heck were you doing?! You're supposed to make him a proper lunch! He can't stand spicy food!] After all that, I decided to call a supermarket. "Hi! I'd like to order 100 cups of instant super-spicy mac 'n' cheese and have them delivered to Grimm Co. Please and thank you." "Ain't I generous?"

When my mother first told me about the arranged marriage, Noah Parker lowered his head and kissed me, pulling me closer as we became tangled together. After a haze of passion, he carried me into the bathroom. Warm water streamed over my skin, but his words sent a chill straight through me, as if I'd fallen into an icy pit. "Go home. And don't come looking for me here again." I thought he'd seen the text and was jealous, so I quickly clung to him and swore, "I won't marry anyone else—" His smile stayed, but the heat in his eyes cooled into something distant. "But I'm getting married." He brushed back my messy hair, ignoring how my body trembled under his touch. "My fiancée is gentle and kind—nothing like you. She’d never throw herself at her foster brother like that. We've already set a date. If you keep clinging to me like this, she'll be upset with me."