Honey Blonde

I was his one weakness. Don Alex, the king of New York. And I was his queen. But days before our child was due, I was thrown into the Dockside Deathmatch—a cruel game broadcast for the underground world’s entertainment. The bullets flew, hidden traps lay in wait, and my every terrified, pathetic attempt to survive was broadcast live on giant screens. Then, I heard his second-in-command on the loudspeaker. "Boss, your wife's about to pop. You sure you wanna be here?" I froze. Alex was here? A moment later, a woman’s sugary voice dripped through the speakers. "Forget that bitch. Alex told me the only thing that mattered today was being here with me. Right, honey?" It was Scarlett. The Chicago Outfit's princess. Alex's childhood sweetheart from Chicago, a woman he had always pampered and shown a distinct bias towards. He had turned down her advances for years, but he never refused her whims. Today, she was in a bad mood and insisted on watching the deathmatch, so he was here to keep her company. I screamed for Alex, begged him for help, but he was convinced I was an assassin in disguise. Because Scarlett laughed and said the game needed to be more exciting. So he pressed the button. Vicious patrol dogs hunted me. My water broke, mixing with blood on the ground. I was in agony. The game hit its climax as more dogs and gunmen closed in from all sides. Everyone was betting on who would be the next to die. Alex smiled, his voice a low, careless drawl, "I’ll bet on that filthy pregnant woman to die." He didn't know the truth until I bled out on an operating table, our child dead with me. They say the ruthless Godfather shattered. Broke completely.

In the fifth year of our long-distance relationship, I secretly quit my job without telling my boyfriend, Ian Gambino, and travelled more than a thousand kilometers to South Bordington. I wanted to give him a surprise: to get registered and married to him. He worked as a bodyguard for the biggest mafia Don in South Bordington. His job kept him extremely busy, and we were often out of contact. The last time we spoke, he said he had to accompany his boss to an underground auction for security. The job would last three months. Relying solely on the address that I remembered, I managed to find the place. When the guards at the entrance heard that I was looking for Ian Gambino, their expressions turned a little strange. "Don Ian is still busy. Please wait a moment," one of them said. I froze. Don Ian? Before I could process what he meant, I heard him whispering to the person next to him, "So, she's the one that the Don keeps outside? How did she end up here? If Donna Jeanine finds out about this, she's going to cause a huge scene." I was just about to explain to them that they had the wrong person when a woman in a custom-made evening gown walked in. The staff immediately fell silent and addressed her respectfully, "Donna Jeanine." She was on the phone, her voice coquettishly sweet. "Honey, I'm here. You promised you'd come with me and the baby for the medical checkup this time!" From the other end of the call came a deep male voice, filled with affection. "Darling, it'll be over soon. Go take a rest in the VIP lounge. Don't tire yourself out." I had listened to that voice for five years. It belonged to Ian Gambino.

"Jealous?" He repeated. "I have no reason to be jealous of him." He leaned in, our faces inches apart. "If I wanted to, I'd have you." He whispered, his breath hot against my skin. "But you can't." I swallowed. "We're just friends." "Friends." He breathed. "And friends don't get jealous." I whispered, my lips brushing against his. "Friends don't 'have' each other." Yet here I was, straddling him in the front seat of my car, my legs on either side of his hips, our bodies pressed together. I could feel his arousal through the fabric of our clothes, and I unconsciously rubbed against him, seeking friction. He groaned, his hands gripping my hips, holding me still. "Fuck, Jo." He brushed his lips against mine in a teasing kiss, and I let out a whimper, my hips jerking. I wrapped my arms around his neck, pulling him closer as I deepened the kiss. As our tongues slid against each other, I tasted the familiar taste of his lips, like burnt honey mixed with whiskey. It suddenly dawned on me that friends shouldn't know how they tasted. * * * Josette Wynters has spent her life moving from town to town because of her parents demanding job. She had looked forward to building her life at Cedarville and for the first time in her life, Josette felt like she was finally happy. That was until she caught the eye of Evander Lloyd. The notorious bad boy of Cedarville high. She had tried to avoid him, yet it seemed fate had other plans and she soon became his obsession.

“Mummy, Is the President our daddy?” Layla asked curiously, head tilted sideways. Her brothers listened in attentively, obviously wanting a response. I forced out a chuckle as I crouched low before her to cup her soft cheeks. “Honey, the president isn’t your daddy. The President is a very wicked person.” “But, we met him today and he was very polite. He even complimented my hair.” Layla continued earnestly and my heart hammered against my chest violently “Cupcakes, whenever you run into the President; stay away from him because he’s very cruel, okay?” The triplets’ eyes were wide as they hastily nodded their heads, and I pulled them into a long hug. They had no idea the President had once wanted them dead without second thoughts. I’ve sworn to protect them with my life since I had them. No one’s going to take them away from me. Not even their vile father, the President! ~~~ Zendaya Montclair unwillingly got into a contract marriage with the President and suffered a great deal in the marriage– from having to break up with her high school sweetheart because of the marriage, to depression, to public humiliation– to her ex-boyfriend whom she was still in love with, getting married to her supposed best friend. Zendaya was heartbroken. She got drunk that night and spent it in her husband’s bed, which instantly led to an accidental pregnancy. The President wanted her to get rid of the pregnancy because he never saw her as a mother of his future children and only a wife of convenience. That was the last straw. Zendaya left everything behind and fled, promising herself to come back for revenge on every single person who had wronged her. Including the President, she was going to make him pay!

On the day Winter Everhart suffers a miscarriage, her husband, Joshua Stroud, and their son, Terence, are out with his beloved Jessica Lynch. They watch the very performance Winter has always loved. "You're just so unreasonable. What's the point of all this?" "Dad, can you get me a new mom? She's so annoying!" On Winter's birthday, she returns from the hospital only to find Joshua celebrating Jessica's instead. Even Terence, the child she nearly gave her life to bring into the world, pledges to protect the woman who has stolen everything from her. Tears glisten in Winter's eyes as she smiles. Then, with quiet resolve, she walks away from the cage of a marriage that has bound her for five years. Joshua and Terence believe she won't survive without the Stroud family. What they don't expect is that she rises so high that they can no longer reach her. "Mr. Stroud! Mrs. Stroud's car design is now number one nationwide—Stroud Group has been completely outshone!" "Mr. Stroud! Mrs. Stroud has just won the World Championship in Artificial Intelligence Design!" "Mr. Stroud! Mrs. Stroud has been invited by a foreign president to attend a state banquet!" Regret tears Joshua apart. Dragging Terence with him, he kneels before Winter and pleads, "Honey, please give me another chance! If being your servant is what it takes, I'll do it!" But just beyond the door, a strikingly handsome man kneels on one knee, a leather collar fastened around his neck. Twining a diamond leash around Winter's palm, he vows with his gaze burning with feverish devotion, "My master, from this moment on, I bow to no one but you. Please, take me in."

⚠️ WARNING: 18+ ONLY. EXPLICIT CONTENT. You think you know what you want. Honey, you don't. Not yet. But by the time you finish the first story, your thighs will be pressing together and you won't be able to stop. This isn't some happy romance. This isn't slow burn. This is several stories of raw, filthy, completely unhinged desire. The kind that starts in your belly and doesn't stop until your whole body is shaking and you've completely forgotten what you were supposed to be doing today. Step-dads who take what was never supposed to be theirs. Twins who stretch you beyond what you thought your body could handle. Lonely wives who fill themselves with their toys. Professors who make you earn every grade. Bosses who had you figured out before you ever walked into that lift. Strangers on buses who keep their hands exactly where you secretly wanted them. Breeding. Milking. Free use. Size worship. Cuckolding. Dominance. Submission. Forbidden age gaps. Step-family lines that were never supposed to blur, and blur completely. Thirty stories. Thirty women. Thirty situations that had no business going where they went. And every single one of them is told in graphic, vivid, pulse-pounding detail that will leave you breathless, squirming, and desperate for the next page. Don't start this in public. Don't start this if you have somewhere to be. Don't start this if you're not ready to finish. Because once you open the first page, there is no going back. Not without your heart racing. Not without your body betraying you completely. Not without wanting every single thing these women got, and more. You've been warned, babes. Now turn the page.

Staring at the garden doors, waiting for her to walk in after her first shift, the doors swing open and I stuck in place at the sight, her long beautiful blonde curls cascading down the front of another Alpha's chest, her face buried in his neck, her tan legs wrapped around his waist as her body lays against his back. I stumble backwards, I can't breathe, my wolf growls in my head, "MINE!" Looking in the rearview she's waving her arms and jumping up and down in a white t-shirt. I know what she wants, and I'll need to go off grid until I can convince my wolf to take the rejection. I scream, "STOP, COME BACK!" as I watched as the small red taillights disappear into the darkness. A tear rolled down my cheek as I turned and looked at the pack house, my wolf howled in my head, "MATE, GO AFTER HIM NOW!" This isn’t how I imagined my 18th birthday would go. I return to the Alpha Academy in Denver, only to find him gone, I steal his car and now sit at a crossroad, my wolf stirs, "go east." I sarcastically laughed, "really and you know this how?" She giggles, "his wolf will direct him back to the last place he scented you, he's heading back to NY." I arch a brow, " we'll track our Alpha, and hear his explanation." Following the path of bloody bodies, in the dodgiest bars, I know I'm on the right path but finding a young girl with his scent all over her, crying in a car outside of one, not what I was expecting. He did it to her too, captured her heart and walked away, just like he did me. Now I want a rejection not an explanation.

My name is Christian Thompson, and once upon a time, I was the best striker in European football. That was until he came along—Ashford Ryder, young and carefree, 10 years my junior and the new shining star. I hate him. At least that's what I tell myself. Not just because he's taken my spot, but because he's everything I've struggled all my life to be, and not to be. He's vibrant, he's happy, and the worst of all, he's openly gay. I'm not homophobic, quite the opposite—I've lived in the closet all my life. All my life, I've had to hide who I am to please the people around me. European football hasn't always been this accepting of gay men, and I'd squeezed myself into a box to fit in with what they wanted of me. It isn’t that hard when you think about my family who'd rather disown me than have an openly gay son. So imagine how I feel when the world decides to be more accommodating to people like Ashford Ryder when they shoved me in a box. It's not so easy to hate the happy-go-lucky striker, when he does everything to get close to me, despite my insistent hatred for him. He's like a thorn in my side—a hot, sexy, blonde, 5ft9 thorn I can't stop thinking about. But when one day I lose my cool around the popular striker and land myself in bad press, I end up needing his help. It's supposed to be easy. Spend some time with Ashford Ryder, and show our fans that we can work together—it's what I need to do to save my career. But no one tells you how hard it is to hate someone you spend every waking hour dreaming about.

"Love finds you in the strangest places.!" Marriage wasn't on Preston's agenda. He was enjoying life as the most eligible bachelor until his family began to mount pressure on him. After a time, he had no choice but to get married to a woman he didn't even know. His close friend teased, "You lucky ! Your wife must be gorgeous." When Preston thought of the woman who slept with a mask on in his bed, his blood boiled. “What was gorgeous about her? Humph!” "You had better stop it. One more word and I'll make her yours!" he cursed. Preston thought he was going to be a miserable married man. However, he received a surprise when his marital life turned out to be the exact opposite. Curiosity killed those around him after some time. His friend asked again, " I know you don't like talking about your wife.But can you describe to me what exactly she looks like? Why does she always have a mask on?" This time, Preston's lips curved into a smile. "My sweetheart is beautiful and adorable. Lower your gaze whenever you see her. If l catch you staring at her, I'll make you go blind." Everyone's jaw dropped when they heard that. They looked at him like he was crazy. One day, Preston's wife suddenly packed her bag and declared, "I can't do this anymore. I've had enough of your humiliation. Please, give me a divorce!" This request hit Preston like a bolt out of the blue. When he saw that she was being dead serious, he held onto her with both hands and begged, "Honey, please don't leave me. I promise to treat you better. If you want, I can give you the whole world. Stay with me!"

On my fifteenth birthday, I begged my mom to teach me how to make a cream cake from scratch. We only had cream at home. No flour. So we went out to buy some. When we came back, we didn't walk into a birthday surprise. We walked in on my father pressing a strange she-wolf down onto the dining table. Cream was smeared all over her bare body. That night ended with my parents signing the Mating Dissolution Agreement. From that day on, cake became my nightmare, a taboo I could never touch. The night I mated with Alpha Kaelen of the Shadow Pack, amidst the pain and pleasure of his marking bite, I whispered in his ear. "Honey, if you ever want to end our mating, just bring me a cake." He frowned, his eyes burning with possessiveness, and kissed the words away. "Don't talk nonsense, Seraphina. You are my fated mate. How could I ever let you go?" Later, on his birthday, his intern secretary Elena ordered a three-tier luxury cake. Kaelen went into a rage, throwing both the cake and the intern out the front door. Back then, I was moved, even telling him not to be so harsh on a low-ranking wolf for my sake. But six months later, Elena had been promoted to Kaelen's personal assistant. On my birthday, she walked into my laboratory, swinging her hips, holding a burnt, homemade cake. I called Kaelen, asking him to remove the provocative item. On the other end of the line,his tone was casual. "Elena put her heart into making that for you. It would be cruel to throw it away. Be a good girl, don't be so sensitive. Have the grace of a Luna." The phone slipped from my hand. It turned out my mother wasn't wrong. Cake really is best served with a side of rejection papers.