Husky Voice

When your ex, a hockey player, begged for your forgiveness in front of everyone, making a scene, You were both awkward and angry as the team erupted into a chorus of gossip. Just when you were speechless and didn’t know what to do, The famous hockey captain raised his voice and said, “Enough. She is mine.”

“Mom, Dan, I received an offer from an overseas university. I plan to take it.” Lucille Shaw’s voice was soft in the silent living room, like a single drop of water rippling across a still pond. Her mother Victoria exclaimed with joy, "Really? Congratulations! When are you planning to go?" “In Ten days.”

Sometimes God gave you what you want, sometimes you were born a werewolf rather than some pathetic little human, sometimes you got a chance to become a Human queen and rule both species… And, just like that, sometimes life fucked you up by letting you meet your mate whom you're supposed to reject, sometimes things get even more fucked up when your mate turns out to be a priest, the person who raised you, and sometimes your fucked up mind decided to seduce him. No, the fucked up things didn't stop yet, sometimes that person who always treated you like a child, the person who was not even supposed to touch any woman, responds to your innocent kiss by eating up your wet filthy hole as if his life depended on it as if the world is ending, and he will never get to eat again, and the thing between your thighs seems like the sweetest dessert to him. And finally, sometimes, you forget all the rules, you forget what is right and what is wrong when your miserable heart dares to yearn for someone you weren't even supposed to dream about, a saint. ••• " Remove your clothes, Freya.", he ordered in a low husky voice. But I didn't move...couldn't move as I watched him. His big body leaned over a bundle of dry grass, tight black shirt covered his hard chest, two buttons open, showing his pale white skin, his belt...now opened, slack just down enough for his dick to pop out, thick veiny shaft, wrapped under his slender fingers, its head, red as if his dick was angry. And when I looked up at his face, I couldn't believe he was the same man who raised me!

As I laid there waiting for sleep to take me. I was startled as my eyes drifted they landed on a human shaped shadow again by the bathroom door. I tried to roll. Nothing happened. Scared now, I tried to reach my phone. My arms wouldn’t move. My breathing was getting rapid. The only thing that would move is my eyes. Why can’t I move? From the corner of my eye, I saw it. The shadow moved from the doorframe towards me. It was an ambiguous huge male human shape with a hat on its head. Once it reached the bed, it stopped. Less than a foot from me and I couldn’t make out any details. My heart was racing, and my breathing was ragged. Male knuckles traced my jaw from my ear to my chin. The touch was gentle. Intimate even. A husky, seductive chuckle filled the air that still smelt of the candle. “I know what you need little gazelle.” The shadow shimmered. Now I could see the details. He was at least six foot two. Dark skin, bald head, and wearing jeans that clung to his muscled legs. An unbuttoned dark purple shirt displayed his taunt chest. The moonlight showed his beautiful smile as he leaned towards me. I tried to speak, but nothing came out. “Shhh. I’m going to make it all better.” ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- It was supposed to be a relaxing vacation. Vivienne needed a get away from the stress of her life. Having heard her best friend sing the praises of Helen, GA. she decided to spend a week in cute cabin and decompress. Instead her dreams are invaded by a mysterious sensual man with swirling purple eyes. Soon she wonders if he’s more than just the man of her dreams.

He leaned in, inhaling her sweet scent as his hands traveled from her back to her waist, and then down to her thigh. She felt her breath hitch as she let out a small gasp. "We shouldn't be doing this." She said, her voice barely above a whisper. "Then tell me to stop." His voice was low, daring, as his fingers traced slow circles on her skin. *** Lucy had always lived life on her own terms, until the night everything changed. One moment, she was free; the next, she was bound to Barry Cooper, a cold, dangerous man who ruled the underworld with an iron fist. She never expected to be trapped in a world of power struggles, deceit, and unspoken desires. But as the lines between captor and captive blur, Lucy realizes she’s caught in a deadly game, one where trust is a luxury and survival is not guaranteed. Will she escape the ruthless mobster who owns her… or will she become his greatest obsession?

"No," I protested, my voice shaking. "I won't go." Derrick's eyes sparkled with amusement. "Oh, but you will," he said. "In fact, you leave in two days." "You can't make me," I said, my voice trembling. Even if I was bound, I would never give in to his request. I would not be another one of the long line of concubines of the devil himself. Derrick leaned forward, his eyes blazing with intensity. "Oh, but I can," he whispered. "And I will." Ariana's life is shattered when her father is brutally murdered and she's forced into a betrothal with the ruthless Alpha King Ryker, a man cursed to kill any woman who bears his child. But as they work through their unfamiliar bond, secrets and lies threaten to destroy them. Can Ariana uncover the truth behind her father's death and Ryker's curse before it's too late, or will their love become the very thing that destroys them?

"You should rest." I said, my voice embarrassingly breathless. "Probably." he agreed, but made no move to put distance between us. "You're trembling." "I'm tired. It's been a long night." I lied, my voice lacking conviction. "Liar." His free hand came up, brushing a strand of hair from my face. The gesture was surprisingly gentle, at odds with the raw intensity in his eyes. "Your heart's racing. I can hear it." ~ When the fierce Alpha wolf Roman Blackthorn shows up injured at her doorstep, village healer Mirabelle's life turns upside down. She's forced to join his pack as their healer, and honestly? She can't stand him. He's arrogant, dangerous, and infuriatingly attractive. As threats close in from all sides, Mirabelle and Roman find themselves drawn to each other, despite their best efforts to keep their distance. Can they survive each other long enough to face the real threat?

"Why are you blushing Mia?" I shiver at the sound of his voice, get a grip. "No reason" I squeak, thinking about all the ways he could take me right now in this car. "Why are you crossing your legs so tightly Mia?" his voice low making me squeeze my legs tighter, my lower region on fire. "Ace" I whine, Im not sure why though. "What is it Mia, tell me what you need" ***_*** She was big, curvy and bullied She left running with her tail between her legs Now she's back and out for revenge He left home for his country He was the sweetest But war changed him Now he's full of smirks, covered in tattoos He was her childhood crush, she was like his little sister. They both are in a world of shock seeing how much the other has changed. WARNING Mature themes Mature language Mature contents

I'd been home for half a month, but I still couldn't shake the feeling that Mom wasn't quite herself anymore. She looked and sounded like she always had, but something felt different. Then, one day, I got a message from her that sent a chill down my spine. "Lily, hide! There's a ghost in the house!" At first, I thought she was pulling a prank on me—or maybe her account got hacked. Then, there was a knock on my bedroom door. Mom, who had just finished cooking, called out to tell me the meal was ready. I was still hesitating when another message popped up. It was a voice message. "Trust me, Lily. I'm your real mom! The one out there is a ghost! Run!" It sounded just like Mom's voice from outside. My mind was racing in panic. Not hearing me respond, Mom giggled from the other side of the door and said, "I'm coming in."

I've been married to Elliot Graves, the mafia drug lord in NYC, for the past eight years. But today—on our wedding anniversary—I received a photo of him with my best friend, Lila, celebrating as if they were the ones married. And in her arms was my son, Owen. I stared at the image, then typed out two words in reply. “How perfect.” Half a hour later, Elliot stormed through the front door. His voice thundered through the hallway. “Why do you always have to be so bitchy to Lila?” Owen, my own little boy, shoved at my leg and glared. “Bad Momma,” he said. “I wish Miss Lila was my real mommy.” I didn’t flinch. I simply walked over to the drawer, pulled out the crisp stack of papers I’d long prepared, and dropped them on the table with a quiet finality. “Alright,” I said, my voice calm. “It’s all my fault. Now, can I go?”