Get Into It Doja Cat Novels & Stories

(I said I like it) Oh I need the dollars(I said I like it like that) Beat it up like piñatas(I said I like it like–) Tell the driver, close the curtains(I said I like it like that) Bad bitch make him nervous(I said I like it) Como Celia Cruz tengo el azúcar (azúca') Tu jeva me vio y se fue de pecho como Jimmy Snuka (ah) Te vamos a tumbar la peluca Y arranca pa'l carajo cabrón, que a ti no te vo'a pasar la hookah (hookah, hookah) Mis tenis Balenciaga, me reciben en la entrada (woo) Pa-pa-pa-pa-razzi, like I'm Lady Gaga (woo)

“You will only belong to me.” Another finger joined, and I was slowly losing my senses. My hands traveled lower to his shoulders and his muscled back, my nails digging into his flesh. Another wave of heat rushed through me, and I could feel a powerful surge building inside me. It kept growing as his fingers moved, increasing their pace. I arched my back and pushed my hips, urging him deeper, needing more. I was close—so close— He stopped and raised himself above me, braced on his arms. Then he whispered in a strangely restless voice, “Asena.”

Instead, I reach for the black kohl liner in my bag. I flip down the visor, the harsh LED lights giving me enough clarity to darken my eyes until I look like a wraith. I smirk at my reflection. It’s showtime. I step out into the biting cold. The sound of "Bad Moon" by Hollywood Undead thumps from the mansion walls. I hear the sharp intake of breath from the pack-kids lingering on the porch. "Shit," one murmurs. "Go tell the Alpha," another snaps. I grin. Let them run. Did they think I’d go into exile because of a sex tape? They don’t know a Hayes. But they’re about to get an education.

Love Conquers All. Cassandra strode into the conference room, her heels clicking a confident rhythm against the polished floor. She had prepared for this presentation for weeks, pouring over data and charts, rehearsing her delivery in front of the mirror until she could recite it in her sleep. She was ready.

His line rang in my ear. He picked up in one ring. "You just sent me a text," he said. I tapped once. I heard the faint sound of him reading it. My name is Ava Arande. I'm mute. I can hear everything you say. I'll communicate by text while we talk. Please don't hang up. A beat of silence. "That's an unusual request." I was already typing the next message and I sent it. Most of my requests are unusual, that's not the one you should be focusing on right now.

It lacked the chaotic, echoing bass of a Savage Man. It sounded small. It sounded localized. It sounded agonizingly, undeniably human. It was the sound of vocal cords tearing under the strain of absolute, unendurable torture. Mwajuma’s chest tightened, a cold spike of pure adrenaline hitting her veins. Her instincts screamed that someone was being broken behind that heavy iron-banded door. She took a heavy step toward it, her massive hands curling into fists, ready to summon the earth and tear the wood off its hinges to save whoever was dying inside.

I can’t seem to stop myself from cocking one hip and dropping the other, arching my back slightly so he can memorize the pathways of my body. I’m thirty yards from the man but I can still feel his expert tongue working against my sex, can still hear the way he spoke to me. With such blunt ownership. But is he actually taking it? Or is he pushing me away? The latter is what I deduced based on the way he left my room earlier. Now, though? The hungry way he’s watching me tells a very different story. “Vegas” by Doja Cat starts to play over the bar speakers. “Ooooh,” Sasha is saying. “I love this song. We need to dance!”

Lisa's forgotten phone lights up with a Doja Cat hot number for an incoming call and my eyes flirts over the caller ID. Kendrick C. “Ohh,” Oh, this must be my lucky day.