Jojo Siwa Forehead

My husband had a severe addiction for physical intimacy. However, in the seven years of our marriage, he never touched me, not even once. To suppress his urges, he soaked himself in bone-chilling ice water every night. His arms were covered in needle marks from constant injections. It broke my heart to see him like that. I offered myself to him many times, but he insisted on simply giving me a restrained kiss on the forehead before saying, “Don’t be silly, Summer. I’m not like those animals. How could I ever bear to hurt you? For you, I’d gladly live the rest of my life in a platonic marriage.” This strange, almost obsessive restraint of his lasted seven years. Despite the numerous times he pushed himself far enough to end up hospitalized, he still refused to cross that line. Then, on our wedding anniversary, a young woman named Anna Brandt came in for her ninth hymen restoration surgery. After the anesthetic was administered, her cheeks flushed red. As her mind grew hazy, she started crying weakly like a lost kitten. Looking at the love bites scattered across her body, I shook my head and assumed she was just another girl who had gone astray. That was until I heard her last tearful whisper. “John Shaw, you jerk.” My hand trembled and I nearly dropped the scalpel. Because my husband’s name also was John Shaw.

“Desmond,” I breathed out, “don’t.” But he didn't listen to my plea. His lips found my neck, his teeth gently grazing the frantic pulse that betrayed my panic. My skin instantly lit up beneath his mouth, a complete traitor to my mind. When his hand slid lower, tugging at the drawstring of my skirt, a terrifying mix of panic and deep heat crashed together inside me. “Desmond, please. This is wrong.” “Nothing about you has ever been wrong to me,” he growled out against my throat. Clothes instantly fell away as if they had never mattered. My shirt. His shirt. My skirt. The last threads of my will to fight. He settled heavily between my thighs, a burning hot weight. I felt him hard against me, thick and urgently insistent. My breath hitched sharply when the blunt head of his cock nudged my entrance. “Tell me to stop, Ana,” he said, his voice ragged, his eyes desperately locked on mine. “Say the word, and I will immediately.” I opened my mouth to speak. No sound escaped. He pushed in, moving with agonizing slowness, stretching me open inch by painful inch. A broken, strangled sound left my throat as he filled me completely, buried deep to the hilt inside my most intimate space. My inner walls instantly clenched around him, shocked, aching, and intensely alive. He stilled his movement, letting me fully register every powerful throb of him inside me. “Fuck, Ana,” he groaned, his forehead dropping to mine. “You feel completely like mine.” Then, he moved again.

We had been married for three years, yet my husband, Richard Thornton, who suffered from touch deprivation syndrome, still refused to consummate our marriage. Every time his condition flared up, he would only press his forehead tightly against the curve of my neck. I assumed he was saving himself for his first love, the woman who had left years ago. Then, I overheard him talking to his friends. "Stop teasing her next time. It makes her tense up every time." "Got it, Richard. But if you care about Valeria so much, why won't you touch her? It's been three years. Aren't you worried she'll leave you for someone else?" Richard shook his head. "You don't understand. The longer we're together, the harder it is to control myself around her. She's so delicate. I'm terrified I'll hurt her. As long as she's mine, I wouldn't care even if she slept with someone else first." His friends burst out laughing. "Richard, you're all talk. If you could really handle her being with another man, you wouldn't keep running to the hospital. You think we don't know what you're up to?" The next day, I found Richard's medical records. Visit after visit, he kept asking the same question, "How can I be gentler in bed? I don't want to hurt the woman I love."

My husband, Cesare Ferrante, the most feared Don of the Ferrante family, had always hated children. Yet everything changed the moment my stepsister, Bianca Moretti, moved in next door with her six-month-old baby. Suddenly, my husband became obsessed with that child. He personally fed the baby formula, sang lullabies, and carried the baby everywhere he went. Every day, he came home exhausted at dawn, yet his face glowed with joy, as if that baby occupied his entire soul. I became invisible to him. Three days ago, someone forced my car off the road, and I crashed into the median. Blood streamed down my forehead, and my vision swam. I called Cesare 55 times. He did not answer a single call. Instead, he posted a photo of the baby on his social media. [My little angel smiled today!] I had had enough. Tonight at the family banquet, every member of the famiglia was seated around the table. I raised my final toast, then set down my glass. "I want a divorce." They all froze. "Are you insane?" My parents' voices rose in unison. Cesare grabbed my wrist, disbelief written across his face. "Giulia, you want to divorce me just because I was busy taking care of the baby and didn't answer your calls? You're actually jealous of a six-month-old child?" I did not meet his eyes. Instead, I stared at the glaring kiss mark behind his ear. "Since you love that child so much," I said calmly, "I'll make it easy for you. Go be that child's father."

Mina Mendoza never expected her quiet life to end with a blood-soaked stranger collapsing in her bar. Luciano is older, dangerous, and carries the kind of power she knows better than to get close to. One night of helping him turns into a war she never meant to step into, and the mafia world she avoided pulls her in with no way out. But the worst part is not Luciano. It is the man standing behind him. Frankie, Luciano’s younger brother, is Mina’s first love, the boy she lost and never honestly forgot. Now he is caught between loyalty to his brother and the feelings he buried years ago. Mina is trapped between the man who crashed into her life like a storm and the man who still owns a piece of her heart. As danger closes in, Mina must choose whom she trusts, whom she loves, and whom she is willing to risk everything for. Saving Luciano changed her world. Loving either brother might destroy it. ~SNEAK PEEK~ His voice dropped, low and possessive. “Fine. One kiss, then we wait.” I told him I didn’t care. “I want you now.” He pressed his forehead to mine. “Once we start, there is no going back.” I nodded, and something shifted in his eyes. He leaned me back on the bed, hands braced beside me. “Are you sure?” “If I weren’t sure, we wouldn’t be here.” His kiss was deep, powerful, slow, stealing my breath. I arched into him as his mouth traced my jaw and throat, heat racing through me. “I need you,” I whispered, and everything changed.

"I love you," he gazed at her eyes which are dropped on the floor while he cups her cheeks with his palm. She doesn't look at his eyes. She seems scared. But with what he doesn't understand. "Do you not like me? Even a little bit?" his voice enunciates but she doesn't response to it. He waits for her answer but she doesn't reply him. He tries to back away from her. But as he is leaving, she holds his hands suddenly. "I don't know. I don't know whether I like you or not. I just don't want you to go away. I just don't want you to leave me," she says with the tears sparkling on her eyes. "Esther!" He presses his forehead against her as his breaths fasten. He can feel that along with his, her breaths are quickened as well. He realizes that the fire is burning on both side and she is equally anxious as she is. A smile creeps on his lips as he feels that. "I love you, Esther. You're made for me and I am made for you. We are made for each other," he smiles and presses his lips against her. "You're day dreaming one more time? What the fuck are you dreaming about Esther? Is it about my old man? Are you dreaming about him?" He pushes her against the wall and punches hard on the wall making his knuckles be red and bleed. "Nooo...Nooo... Caden! You're wrong," she cries.

I masterminded a half-billion-dollar art auction to wash money for Miles’s family. But at the celebration party, Miles gave all the credit to Rebecca. His childhood friend. The daughter of the family’s consigliere. I stormed into his study. “Miles, head curator was Rebecca? Are you sure about that?” He looked up from a cloud of smoke, pulling me into his arms. His voice was a low, soothing rumble. “Valerie, I know you want to prove yourself, but this was all Rebecca. Especially the Caravaggio. The real one, worth three hundred million. She’s the one who pulled it off.” His lips brushed my forehead, his breath hot. “I don’t love you because you can fix some old paintings. You’re my queen, always. My girl. You don’t have to worry about her.” I almost laughed. The anger was choking me. “She can’t tell the difference between oil and acrylic. How the hell would she know a real from a fake?” “Enough!” Miles cut me off, his tone leaving no room for argument. “I know what Rebecca can do. Don’t make a scene just because you’re jealous.” His hands tightened, trapping me in his smoky embrace. “Don’t disappoint me, Valerie.” But he already had. When I’d had enough of his favoritism and his blindness, I walked. And that's when he went crazy. Scoured the earth looking for me. Begging me to come back, saying he was blind, that he’d been wrong about everything.

"You're going to meet her someday." I whispered. "Olivia." I forced a smile and lifted my head. "And it's fine. I'll be rooting for you all the way." He cut me off with a soft "Liv." I blinked away my tears. "No, listen to me. We need to accept that this won't last forever. You could find her on your next trip out of town, and I'll be forgotten." I swallowed the lump formed in my throat. "I just hope we'll still be friends." His face twisted in pain as he rested his forehead against mine, his hands trembling as he cups my cheeks. "You'll always be my best friend." "And you'll always be mine." I pressed my lips against his, needing to taste him, to feel his lips on mine, to know that at this moment, he was mine. ^^^ Olivia Martins has always been an outcast in the Nightshade pack. She's an omega and the pack she grew up in never failed to remind her that she'll never be one of them. It wasn't so bad growing up, she had her best friend by her side. Caspian Storm, son of the alpha of the Nightshade pack, befriended her when they were both little, and they've been inseparable ever since. Their friendship started out sweet and innocent, but it developed into more. Olivia knew that it couldn't last forever because Caspian would find his mate and what they had would come to an end. Yet, she couldn't guard her heart and when her worst fear comes true, she flees. Will Olivia and Caspian find their way back to each other or will the threat of Caspian finding his mate keep them apart?

He was busy kissing her. Catching her breath, she took out the dagger and while he’s busy stripping her skirt. Kill. She stabbed his back. He froze as she met his eyes. He growled in pain as she pushed him hard but he grabbed her neck and throw her away. She hold the dagger tightly as she landed on her foot and knee. “You little bitch.” He growled as she raised her dagger, the tip was facing down and the sharp blade was facing him. He could feel the burn on his back as he laughed. “As I expected, you weren’t just a timid girl, Bella.” He watched those blank eyes. Like there’s no soul on it. Kill. There he heard it again as she attacked immediately and he caught her wrist the blade was near on his eyes. He gripped on it and he pinned her down on the floor as he broke her wrist in anger. She growled in pain as she released the dagger. He took it and throw it out. Now with other hand, he reached her right ear and pulled out an earpiece. He crumbled it into pieces as he growled. “Bella!” He growled. “You little traitor.” She whimpered as she tried to kneed him but his knees were on hers, completely holding her down. “Shhh!” He pressed his forehead to hers as he stared right into her eyes. “Bella, Bella. My. Mate.” She froze and stops struggling. He finally let her go as he carried her to bed. He reached her broken wrist and fixed it. Then, he put cloth around it to support it. He pulled out his phone and rang Paxton. Then, he tossed it away. “Mate,” straddled over her and reached her neck.

"I am always here for you " Zai silently whispered, and kissed Yilan’s forehead, hugging her tightly in his arm like no one could ever hurt her again. Yillan is a girl with a beautiful smile. Her motto is "family’s first" even though the family he cares about the most, doesn’t treat her like one, she still wishes that one day they would recognize her. Zai is as cold as ice. No one could ever guess what's on his mind. He never shows his emotions to others, but he is a loving son and brother to his family. Besides his family, he only cared most about Yilan without her knowing. He was always protecting and loving her in his own way. Yilan only knew that she first met Zai in their last years in high school at the school festival but she didn't know that Zai already knew her a long time ago then. After 5 years, they met again in an awkward circumstance. But the next day, Yillan forgot what happened. They continuously bump into each other, from time to time. This time Zai is currently the CEO of the Lee Empire, one of the biggest conglomerates in the country. Then, it happened that Yoon corporation faced a great disaster. Yillan's eldest Brother may end up in prison and the company may be endangered. Because of the unexpected turn of events, her Eldest brother sought the help of the Lee Empire and even though it's not proper, Zai used the opportunity to be with Yillan. They entered a contract marriage Can Zai tell Yilan her true feelings? While Yillan will be torn between her family and Zai