I Can't Sleep Until I Feel Your Touch

On the day I was trying out my wedding gown, a stranger dashed into the VIP room and pushed me hard onto the ground. "I'm the real Mrs. John Curtis. Someone like you, with no money or a strong family behind you, should serve me instead." She looked down on me before kicking my pregnant belly with her sharp heels. The pain blurred my vision and made me break out in a cold sweat. Jolene Nostra crouched next to me and slapped me with the back of her hand. "You were only a jilted lover without wealth or influence, trying to wed into a rich family by getting pregnant." As blood flowed heavily from between my legs, a realization hit me. My fiancé, the person I'd been with for four years, was seeing another woman. "What's this? How dare you give me that look? I could kill you, and nothing would happen to me because I'm Mrs. John Curtis!" As she lunged towards me, I pulled out my phone with trembling hands to call my brother. "Come get me, Anthony. And tell our guys I want the Curtis family gone from South City."

In my past life, I walked away from an invitation to the elite Academy just to take the fall for Luca. He held my hand, swearing he’d get me out. Swearing he’d keep me safe for the rest of my life. Instead, I rotted in a cell until I died. While I was bleeding out on the cold floor, Luca was marrying the Don’s daughter, living the high life. When I opened my eyes, I was back. Luca was sixteen again, face pale as a sheet, shoving a bloody gun into my hands. "Elena, you're a lifesaver." I slapped the piece away. "Dream on. I ain't taking the rap for you this time."

During the eight years I spent by Alpha David’s side, I also raised the pup he had with my late sister. At his birthday banquet, I accidentally wore one of her old dresses. Eight-year-old Dorian grabbed a pot of freshly brewed coffee and poured it over me— right in front of the maids. The scalding liquid burned my skin, and when I looked up, I saw the same cold disgust in his eyes that I’d seen so many times in his father’s. “How dare you wear my mother’s dress?” he sneered. “You’ll never replace her. You killed her with that wicked heart of yours!” The coffee seared more than my flesh. It burned straight through my heart. I looked at the child I’d raised for eight long years. I didn’t feel angry. I didn’t even feel sad. Only a quiet kind of exhaustion. “Don’t worry,” I whispered. “I’ll leave tomorrow.”

Please…” I begged wanting him to do more. My body shook when he increased the pace.I dropped my back to the desk and arched my back.His mouth found my clit and I let out a deep moan. I could feel the pressure building up. “Greg,I'm so…so close.” I whimpered. His movement slowed a bit. “No!” I cried. “Please.” I could feel the smile tugging in his lips as he continued to lick on my clit. “Please…” I begged even more,my voice sounding needy even to my own ears. He increased his pace.Fingering me faster and harder. My toes curled as I felt the pressure about to explode inside of me. “I'm going to cum..” “Then do so,show me how good you can be and cum for me.” Pressure exploded through me,my whole body shaking from it all.I let my head rest on the desk as I tried to catch my breathe. His arms came around me, lifted me up and wrapped me in his arms. “Thank you.” I whispered. He planted a light kiss on my shoulder and just held me. I pulled back and looked him in the eye. “That was my first orgasm.” I announced proudly,warmth filling my heart. He smiled and leaned in.”How about another one.” ******************************************* Sex. That was the only reason Emillia Winslow got married to the Mafia Billionaire, Gregory Densmore. Being deeply religious,she is thrown into a world that contrasts her belief. There is no remorse,no confessions and no forgiveness. Will She manage to bring light into the dark or will the dark engulf her,forcing her to bring out her shadow self.

I should have been walking down the aisle. Instead, I was running through the woods in my wedding dress. The white fabric caught on every branch, tearing apart like my life. My name is Camela Siegel. My father is the Mayor, and he sold me to save himself. Vincent Castellano was supposed to be my husband. They call him the Mad Prince, but I learned he’s so much worse than that. His hands trembled when he touched me—sometimes gentle, like I might break, and sometimes rough, like he wanted to overpower me. “You’re mine now,” he’d whisper in the dark corners of that house. “No one else gets to touch you. No one else gets to hurt you but me.” I tried the door handle every day for three months. It only turned from the outside. When help finally came, I thought it was over. I thought I could go home and pretend none of it ever happened. I was wrong. Vincent found my journal—the one where I wrote about him, about what he did to me, and about who he truly is. Now he’s not just keeping me locked up. He’s hunting me. They call him “The Fox” for a reason. He’s patient and waits. When he catches what he’s after, he never lets it go. I can feel him watching me even now—through my bedroom window, from across the street, in the shadows where I can’t see him but I know he’s there. My father thinks making that deal saved his life. He doesn’t realize it destroyed mine. Vincent said he’d keep me until the last day of my life. I’m starting to think that day is coming soon.

"I loved that I fell for you but I hated that I was your second. That second which always comes after first!" Lilian Evans got married to Richard Tucker after his first wife died. She couldn't keep her heart in place despite his rude and ignorant behaviour. Things got a little overboard and now she was stuck at a point of no return. How would Lilian unfold her life in chaos with the responsibility of being a mother? "Touching others' belongings without consent! You know that is bad manner, right?" Lilian turned in the direction of the voice only to find her husband standing there in the ebony rich suit, his tie a little loose as he gazed right into her soul. "Oh... Yeah, sorry. I was just-" "Your room is at the end of this hallway, closer to Aid's," he said, taking off his coat and not minding to let his bride complete her sentence.

Hannah knows her place in her pack: she is an Omega, a servant, destined to cook, clean, and prepare for all the highest ranked wolves. She’s accepted her station in life, but she can’t help but dream of something more, something deeper—a love that makes her feel seen, heard, and safe. And, without a warning, Hannah believes she may have found just that kind of love. One day, the Alpha of a neighboring pack, Maxwell, comes to visit. She is instantly smitten. She knows that rank and station separate the two, but she’ll do anything to be with him. When the Alpha announces that he’s searching for a cook, Hannah begs to be considered. But the Alpha choses someone else. Hannah is devastated—until, at the last second, the Alpha specifically requests that she join them. Could this be Hannah’s chance? Will she overcome the rivalry with the other girl? Could this be the adventure—and the love—she’s been waiting for?

Ariana Lubove and Spencer Ulrich have been married for three years. She doesn't hope to win his heart, but she thinks that she's at least special to him. To her devastation, he finds himself a mistress and treats her like she's his treasure. Ariana finally faces reality and gets a divorce. She turns to leave without another look back. Five years later, she shows up with a little boy by her side. Spencer looks at the boy and snorts. "You're a little bastard." The boy gives him an equally icy look. "And you're an old bastard." Five years is enough for Spencer to turn a new leaf and start with a clean slate. He's confident he can win Ariana's heart again. But why the hell does he have rivals in love all over the world?

When Adriano Morelli realized I hadn’t submitted a single household request in three days, he called me himself for the first time in months. “Serafina,” he said, his voice smooth and patient, “the clinic has been cleared. Your file is back on priority. See? When you stop making things difficult and learn how this family works, I make sure you’re taken care of.” He always sounded the gentlest when he was reminding me who held the power. What he didn’t know was that by the time his name lit up my screen, the divorce papers were already drafted. From the outside, I had everything a woman could want: a guarded penthouse, a driver on call, designer clothes, and the last name of one of the most feared men in the city. But almost none of it was mine. The cards were monitored. Cash had to be approved. Staff took Viviana Costa’s orders before they ever listened to me. Even the wardrobe budget, my schedule, and access to the family office all ran through her hands. Adriano called it convenience. Three days ago, I was rushed into a private clinic, blood soaking through my dress, while a doctor told me there was still a chance to save the baby if the emergency deposit was paid immediately. I called Adriano until my hands shook. Viviana stalled the transfer. First there was no direct authorization. Then the amount was too large. Then Adriano was in a meeting and could not be disturbed over something that might not be serious. By the time the money came through, it was too late. The baby was gone. I had stayed with Adriano for two reasons: I loved him, and I believed that when it truly mattered, he would choose me. I was wrong about both. Our child died first. My marriage died with it.

I'm the daughter of Don Falcone. After I got back from studying abroad, my family threw a welcome-home banquet, conveniently setting me up to meet the fiancé my father had handpicked for me—Santino Moretti. My father praised the guy to the skies in his letters: he was the heir to the Moretti family, elegant, ruthless, drop-dead gorgeous, and holding half the city’s underground operations in the palm of his hand. I arrived at the Elysium Hotel right on the dot. Just as I was about to take a seat, a hand shoved me hard. A woman's shrill voice pierced my ear. "Livia, what's a Sicilian peasant like you doing here? This is the Imperial Suite. Do you think you even deserve to breathe the air in a place like this?" I recognized the woman. It was Bella, a bitch who had always had it out for me back in college. She was clearly trying to humiliate me. Instead of getting mad, I smirked. "Whether I deserve to be here or not—is that for you to decide?" Bella sneered, crossing her arms over her chest. "I'm Mr. Santino's personal assistant. Today, Mr. Santino is hosting the eldest daughter of the Falcone family here. This isn't an occasion for bottom-feeding trash like you." "Be smart and crawl back to your slum." I pulled out my phone and dialed my so-called fiancé. I wanted to ask him if it was a tradition in the Moretti family to let their dogs bark at the front door.