Gacha Mouths

“I trusted you!” Zachary yelled angrily his hands curled into fists at the revelation that he just got. "Is this is how you repay me?!” “I never told you to trust me." “Do you honestly think that I will let you get away with this?" Zach looked at the woman furiously. “Well, you’ll be disappointed." He took long steps towards her threateningly and held both hands, pushing her towards the wall hardly. “Do you think I'll let you get away from this?” Alex looked at him hardly, their faces close to each other, mouths almost touching. “Because I won’t.” Zach then pressed his mouth on hers in a hard and hungry kiss, giving in to the demands of his body that's been eating him for a while. Zachary Montgomery, 36, is a hard-working FBI agent, who works in counterterrorism, instead with the big law firm that his family had for generations. He is a man with goals and conviction. Alexandra Walters is a 27-year-old diner co-owner with her aunt and her wheelchair-bound younger sister. She turned her back on the thrilling and fast-paced life she once had. When Alexandra met Zachary over an incident that she believes has something to do with the case she abandoned, she forced her way in, despite his resistance and persistence in pushing her away and keeping her away from the case. Covering up their attraction towards each other, Zachary will do anything to keep her away for her safety while Alexandra made a vow to herself that she will get the information she needs to finally close the case that has been haunting her. Even if it means, seducing Zachary Montgomery to her bed.

Tristan Hayes' life took a sharp turn, one moment he was on the cusp of his dream then suddenly found himself drowning. Trauma surgeon residency was brutal enough; losing his scholarship was a knockout blow. Desperate, he swallowed his pride and became "Titan" at Club Inferno. Six months, and he was their star, his body a commodity. Tonight was his last dance – he was booked for a bachelorette party for a bride-to-be linked to the Mafia family. He remembered the haze of perfume, the clamor, the hands pulling him closer and the willing mouths tasting him. He remembered the bride, her eyes wide, her laughter turning into moans and gasps. He entertained the women, the night ending with the bride's face covered in his thick sticky seed. After this night, he wanted to close this chapter of his life. He wanted to forget it all. He should have. Tristan awoke in a cold, unfamiliar room, the fear paralyzing. Now, bound and gagged in a concrete cell, the memory was a burning brand. He learned why they called Giovanni Sokolov "The Siberian Winter." Giovanni, a face carved from granite, stood before him. "My bride," Giovanni’s voice was a low growl, "You entertained my fiancée, She died a week ago, trying to run away with a man. Your seed was the catalyst. You helped her betray me." Giovanni leaned closer, his eyes devoid of warmth. "She was running away, Dr. Hayes. You helped her crave forbidden fruit. You opened the door to betrayal." He smiled, a cruel, predatory expression. "Now, you will pay the price of her betrayal. You will take her place... as my companion in bed... my slave and my plaything. Don't worry I'll make you'll enjoy every second of it."

I got a car straight from the Lycan Chairman himself—a ride costs more than tens of millions and can turn every traffic light green. I got it because the Lycan Chairman once fell on the battlefield, his heart torn open. And me? I'm the one bound to him by a blood-sealed contract, the only secret healer who could save his life. To win me golden hour for surgeries, I was awarded with such an honored ride. I treated it like sacred ground, kept it hidden in my mate Yorick's underground garage, polished and guarded, ready for the day the Lycan Chairman might need me again. That day came. The summons burned in my hand, urgent and sharp. I rushed to the garage, ready to drive, and the second I approached the garage, a strange woman slid into the back seat. "Take me to the Nighty Bar," she ordered, flipping her hair. "Yorick had waited for me minutes. If he's mad at me being late, I'll make you regret it." My hands froze on the wheel. "This is my car," I told her, calm but firm. "I have urgent business. You need to get out. Now." She sneered. "What a joke. A chauffeur pretending to be the owner? You must have a death wish." Her soldiers glanced at me sideways, voice dripping with disdain. "Everyone in the pack knows that this car is Alpha's exclusive for picking up Selene! You're just a little healer. Do yourself a favor and listen to her." Their words cut sharper than any blade. The car that carried the highest secret of the werewolf race, the car tied to the Chairman's very heartbeat, in their mouths, it was nothing more than a toy. A plaything my mate used to please another she-wolf. They wanted me to bow. To surrender. To sit there, silent, while they spat on me. But what they didn't know, the Lycan Chairman's soldiers were already on their way.