Innocent Beauty

“Tell me to stop, Adaline," I whisper. "Fuck me, Michael. Please... I need you..." Fuck me... When I sink into her, I lose the ability to think. . . . Adaline Daniels is a spoilt young girl born into one of the prominent family in LA. Michael is a man who was trained as child soldier, meant to follow orders and kill. Although he's trying to legalize his business, he cannot avoid the one request his partner had made before her assassination. For her daughter to be protected. After years of having someone else do this job, Michael crosses paths with Adaline and discovers that she's the daughter of his partner which he's meant to protect. Now, there's no turning back. Michael wants Adaline for himself, and there's nothing that can stop him from having her. Their relationship is messy, partly because of the secrets Michael keeps from Adaline, and partly because of how much Michael and Adaline disagrees. But what happens when the enemies close in and ruin Michael's found happiness? Will he continue to be the level headed good man for his Adaline or will darkness consume him? What will Adaline do when this loss rocks her life to the core? Read to find out more!! There's age gap, dark themes, light heartedness, a sassy but focused female lead, a controlling but kind and thoughtful male lead. Although this story has a lot of moments that'll throw you off, it's also packed with lots of moments that'll make you blush. Can't wait to see you all engage!

I crave excitement in my life. To do that, I send my deskmate a video of me pleasing myself with a toy. Bit by bit, it awakens his desires…

"Are you wet enough?" He questions with hooded eyes. I nod curtly. "Only the sound of your voice and my pussy jumps in excitement." "Good. Turn around." He orders as both hands grip my waist, flipping me around before I can argue. "Sit on it and go crazy." *** She's a liar. He's a sociopath. She's patient. He's impatient. She's kind. He's a monster. She's desperate. He's powerful. When love ignites between two worlds forced together, tragedy arises, hate becomes and resentment settles in. They fight. They struggle. They almost push through. But the blood and bones hidden in a perfectly designed cupboard are discovered and the truth of the imperfectly perfect union destroys the desires of the heart.

“For someone who’s soon to be married, you sure look miserable, Mr?” “Creed,” the man replies, his words slurred, almost like he’s absent minded. “Alexander Creed.” He completes. . . . Two days to the wedding. Two days to Alexander’s wedding, his path crosses with a girl who makes him feel like himself. Evangeline. They share a dance at a club, and that dance led to a steamy night together. A steamy night that somehow left lingering emotions. When Alexander decides not to push through with the wedding, his bride-to-be reveals a heartbreaking information. Evangeline’s and Alexander’s meeting was never a coincidence. For Evangeline, it was just a job, but for Alexander, her name has refused to evade his memory. What will happen when she returns three months later with the resulting factor of their affair? Read to find out.

During an elective class, the campus belle, Jemima Ford, who is our senior, describes her ideal type with everyone egging her on. She says, "My future husband has to be at least six feet two inches tall. His parents must be college professors, and his grades should be top three in his major…" The room buzzes with teasing chatter and gossip. At the same time, I snap up my head in surprise. Why does Jemima's description of her ideal type sound like my boyfriend, Elijah Sanders? The next second, the professor standing by the podium smiles obsequiously and says, "Very well said. If Eli hears this, he'll definitely be very happy! Later, the two of you can meet. That way, he won't get tricked by some naive girl into going abroad." Amid the burst of laughter from the class, I lower my eyes and look at the message my parents sent me. It reads, "Sweetheart, are you really going abroad with your boyfriend? There'll be no one left to inherit our company with you gone."

"Mr. Warden, what's that fun-looking toy you've hidden away in your pants? Pull it out and let us take a look!" When I'm in the middle of making my rounds around the factory's female dormitory, a few young women try to reach for my crotch. Anger floods my senses immediately. At the same time, my body goes rigid from shock. Not only are the women not afraid of me, but they are also eager to witness the physical change of my body. In fact, they want me to pull my manhood out of the zipper just to show them my actual size. In that case, don't blame me for being so straightforward.

My name is Haley Dixon. Ever since I was young, I knew I was different from other women. Other women have only one passage, but I have two—and both are extremely narrow. I'd heard that my mother was originally pregnant with twins, but a genetic mutation during the pregnancy caused my twin sister to die in the womb. I absorbed the part of her body that became my second passage, along with all of her estrogen. That was why I had a stronger desire than other women. As a teenager, I could use my little toys for up to four hours and still want more. For a while, I was almost proud of myself. I thought a rare treasure like me would be cherished and fiercely loved by any boyfriend. But after five consecutive boyfriends—every single one of them—bolted at the final moment, terrified by what they saw in my pants, calling me a monster and worrying I'd suck them in, I finally realized: maybe this wasn't being "different." Maybe this was a disease. But going to the hospital didn't help. Instead, they told me that my long-term use of foreign objects had led to an addiction disorder. I cried. Why did a monstrous woman like me have to suffer from this? Still, I didn't have time to wallow in misery, because the addiction tormented me day and night, stealing my peace and my sleep. So I went online and bought the largest set of toys I could find. Within just half a month, I'd broken them all—and my mild addiction had become severe. The toys were useless. It seemed I needed a man. But I no longer dreamed of finding a boyfriend. As long as someone could give me relief, any man would do. I signed up for a hookup app and chose the username: Double-Hole Slut.

***Explicit 18+*** "I've missed the warmth of your pussy, the feel of it. God Ginevra, you're so fucking perfect." I rasped and tightened my grip on her. I began rocking her against me ever so gently with parted lips. Her tight pussy very often gripping unto my dick, taking me hostage with each rock against me and a loud scream finally escaped from the back of my throat. *** The game of chess is one love cannot salvage. When the king and the queen come out to play, they have no other goal set before them if not going at each other's throat for the kill until a winner emerges. This is the game of the mafia, the game that'd never allow Love exist between two rivals. They want to love and care for each other but don't know how- all they've known all their lives is loyalty to their famiglia and name. What would happen when the only option becomes death?

After I dropped out of school, my parents didn't pressure me to do anything. But Nicole Hicks kept calling nonstop. She was my boyfriend's childhood friend who had established a reputation as a genius. I was too busy helping out in the fields, growing vegetables, and splashing around in the creek, living my best carefree life. Writing code wasn't even on my mind. In my past life, she had turned in a project just one day before I did. Her codes were exactly the same as mine. Everyone called me a fraud and said I had stolen it. I tried to explain, but no one believed me. Later, she even did a livestream, accusing me online of being a school bully. People went wild. They didn't just come for me—they went after my whole family. Some obsessed troll chased my parents in a car, and they died in a crash. I couldn't take it anymore. I jumped off a high-rise, my eyes still wide open, refusing to accept the way it all ended. Even in my last moment, I couldn't figure it out. That code was mine. My hard work. So how did she manage to post it before me? When I opened my eyes again, I was back, right before everything fell apart.

My roommate won first prize in the national lottery, a full 100 million dollars. She quit her job on the spot, blocked her boss, and said to me, "Amanda, from now on, we'll live in Luxuria Heights, eating the best food and living it up." We went on shopping sprees at Hermès and treated Michelin restaurants like our daily canteen. On moving day, she told me to go ahead to the top-floor luxury apartment and wait for her. She said she needed to pick up a package. Excited, I entered the password she had given me. "Beep. Incorrect password." I was just about to try again. Then, the door opened. The person who came out was not my roommate but a stranger in a suit. He looked at me and frowned. "Who are you? Why do you have the password to my home?" I was stunned. "This is Lydia Zaydn's apartment. Who are you?" The man's expression turned strange. "Lydia Zaydn? I've lived here for five years. I've never heard of that name."