Keys Sound

"I’ll make you beg and cry out my name, Father Hale. You won’t even be able to face the altar without remembering how you came apart on my tongue." Vincente terrifying voice admitted curling around the crucifix at my throat as his rough, unforgiving fingers, pinned my wrists above my head. His thigh shoved between mine, spreading me open, and the heavy press of his cock ground against the thin barrier of my underclothes. Mine answered before I could stop it, swelling shamefully through the thin clothes that clung like a second, traitorous skin. "Feel that?" he whispered, rolling slow, merciless circles that tore a broken sound from my throat. "That’s your body confessing louder than any prayer." I tried to twist away, but the movement only dragged my hips harder against him. "Please," I gasped, the word cracking open like a wound. "Vicente —God—" "God’s not here," he growled, his teeth grazing the shell of my ear. "Only me, you don't call God when you are about to sin." His hands slipped under me working on me. I bit my lip until I tasted blood, but the moan slipped out anyway, raw and ragged. "Say it. Say you want me," he demanded, his thumb circling the slick head until my vision blurred. "Beg me to stop. Or beg me not to." A sob tore free as my body arched, chasing the pleasure I hated myself for craving. "Please...Vicente—" He swallowed the broken plea with his mouth, teeth and tongue, sucking the faint copper of my own blood. When he pulled back, his eyes glittered like black glass. "Oh." He smiled, "You mean I can continue?" And my last hope to get him stop chattered.

“You wear these little skirts… are you trying to seduce me?” His eyes dragged down my body. “I—I don’t know what you’re talking about” Before I could finish, his hand slid up my thigh, fingers brushing beneath the edge of my skirt. My breath hitched. He shoved my panties aside and pressed two thick fingers inside me. “Ahh. . . Kelvin. .” My knees buckled against the sink as he started slow, then thrust rougher, stretching me with every push. “You like that, baby girl?” he whispered against my lips. “Yes… oh God, yes.” His mouth hovered over mine, stealing the sound of my moans before he spun me around to face the mirror. My own reflection stared back at me wide eyes, flushed cheeks while Kelvin loomed behind, his heat swallowing me whole. “Watch while I fuck you,” he growled, shoving down his zipper. The heavy length of him slammed into me in one rough stroke, knocking the air from my lungs. “F-fuck!” I cried out, gripping the sink for dear life. He yanked my hair back, forcing me to look at myself as he pounded into me. “Be my slut today.” Dripping Wet is a collection of straight-up filthy stories about raw, no-limits sex. Bodies crashing together in hard fucks. Holes stretched wide, throats used rough, sheets drenched in cum and sweat. Each one dives deep into pure hunger, cocks slamming in deep, pussies taking it hard, asses getting claimed with no mercy. All the taboo stuff you crave, laid out in brutal detail. No romance. No sweet talk. Just hard, wet, pounding sex that leaves you spent. This book isn't about love. It's about need and giving in until you're soaked.

“I should’ve known you weren’t as reckless as me,” he says quietly. “You’re Elliot’s little girl after all.” “I’m not a little girl,” I snap. “I’m twenty-five.” “And I’m almost twice your age, Natalie,” he says, almost like he’s giving up. “But that didn’t stop you from coming to me.” In a second, he has me pinned against the wall. His hands trails up the sides of my body. “Do you want me to stop?” he whispers, his breath hot against my neck. “I waited for you that night,” I whisper, my hand sliding up his chest. “I imagined us doing all the things you implied you’d do.” He groans softly, a low, guttural sound that vibrates through his chest. “Did you touch yourself?” he asks in a whisper, his eyes closed. My other hand moves lower, trailing down his body until I brush against the hard evidence of his desire. I feel his breath hitch, and I smirk, knowing what I’m doing to him. “Yeah, but it was your hands I was feeling.” On the brink of her second wedding anniversary, Natalie Jones uncovers a devastating betrayal—her husband, Michael Cooper, embraced passionately with his mistress. Confronting him in a dimly lit restaurant, Nat exposes his scheme to marry her for her father’s fortune and storms out, her heart shattered but her resolve unbroken. Ric Steward, on the other hand — billionaire and philanthropist — never expected his evening to ignite with scandal. When he sees Natalie—radiant, powerful, and on the edge of a breakdown—he’s immediately captivated. Their fiery, forbidden attraction is challenged when Ric learns she’s the daughter of a longtime friend. But that doesn’t stop Nat. It only makes her want Ric more…

I stood at the edge of Ironwood territory, boots sinking into mud as cold seeped through my coat. I hated being this close to their land. It smelled like wet dog, testosterone, and trouble. “You’re late, witch.” The voice hit low and deep, vibrating through the ground before it reached my ears. I didn’t flinch. I refused to give him that. I turned slowly, amethyst eyes narrowing as I found him at the tree line. Guilermo Santander. He stepped into the gray light, rain sliding off his broad frame. Six-foot-five of pure menace. Dark hair plastered to his forehead, silver streaks catching the gloom, and those amber eyes—burning straight through me. “I’m not late,” I said calmly, though my pulse spiked. “You wolves just don’t understand patience.” He stopped three feet away. My skin prickled as the runes along my ribs flared hot, reacting to the dense magic rolling off him. Suffocating. Intoxicating. “And you witches don’t understand territory,” Guilermo said. He didn’t sound feral. He sounded tired—like a man carrying a century of weight on deceptively young shoulders. He leaned in and sniffed near my neck. I stiffened. “You smell like sage and burnt sugar,” he murmured, voice dropping, darker now. “It’s giving me a headache.” “Then stop breathing,” I snapped. One corner of his mouth lifted, a flash of sharp canine. “Make me.” The air between us snapped tight. My magic stirred, violet haze curling from my fingertips without permission, brushing the leather of his jacket. He didn’t pull away. He leaned closer. And standing there in the freezing rain with a man who could tear my throat out, I realized two things: Elder Sibal was wrong—Guilermo wasn’t a monster to be chained. And I was in serious trouble.

“You know what you have to do,” Blake said, his eyes bearing hatred into Cassandra, “You don’t like me.” “No,” Cassandra answered, she had been rehearsing how to sound nice while she rejected his proposal but it was impossible. “What?” He asked surprised “I said no, I am sorry, I can’t do that.” She muttered. “You don’t have any idea what you are signing up for, do you?” He asked, both his hands balled into fists on the table, while she watched him silently. “How much did my grandfather pay you?” He asked again and then she looked away from his magnetic gaze, feeling embarrassed. “I’m sorry, I told Mr. McKnight that I would marry you. I don’t think anything would change my mind.” She feigned confidence, holding onto her own hands to stop them from trembling. “We can just try to get along.” “Get along? What was I expecting from a gold-digger?” he asked with deep seething frustration. “You all are the same.” I wanted to ask what he meant by that but I couldn’t. “This wouldn’t be easy I assure you, princess, there would be a price to pay, a fucking expensive one.” He gets up and puts on his cap. “See you later, dear wife.” Unable to say a word she watched him storm away, her heart hammering painfully at his threat. Cassandra’s life took a total turn when her uncle forced her to get married to his partner’s grandson. Even though she was reluctant at first but then she didn’t have a choice but to agree, if there was a way she could escape her cousin, Lance. She would gladly marry even the devil because what has she got to lose?

The sound of the liquor bottle breaking echoed against the walls of that room, making her flinched. She gazed into those intoxicated piercing green eyes hovering over her. "Leave from my room right now, Damien," her sapphire orbs filled with tears of terror, whereas her grip tightened on the towel covering her wet bare body but the person before her didn't follow her words. A shiver ran down her spine when he placed his both palms on the glass door behind her, caging her completely. "We will talk tomorrow when you will be sober up but please leave now," she attempted to push him away but her body froze when he pinned both of her wrists above her head, resulting in the towel slipping from her body. Her naked body trembled, both in fear and cold but the blazing rage in those bloodshed green eyes flamed up her being. She tried to wiggle out from his hold until…. "Do you still love him, Zia?" His question stabbed inside her heart like a dagger. Her tears of fear turned into anger. After she submitted every single inch of her to him last night, he was still asking her that question. "What if I said, yes…I still love Dylan then?" She challenged him but immediately hissed in pain when he dug his fingers in her tender skin. "Then I will kill him right in front of you," his cavernous voice husked against her lips but his words glossed her eyes more. How can he be so cruel that he didn't hesitate before thinking about killing his own brother? Her heart clenched when he pressed his lips against her and whispered those words in her mouth. "Because I will be the only person to ruin you in my love, Zia Damien Karlson,"

"Don't you love this?" Isobel asked, undoing his pants. Cameron raised her up, pushing her ass on the table. He checked the bottom drawer and realised they were out of condoms. Completely mesmerised, he breath. "We can't do this. You don't want to get pregnant." She leaned closer to his body till her braless tits fell on his chest and her lips touched his ears. "I did something." She whispered. "Won't be giving birth for three months." She said. Cameron shifted back, taking his time to look in her eyes. He wanted to be sure she understood what she had done and was ready for it. Isobel smiled, need masqueraded her eyes. "Are you sure?" She nodded. Dipping her hand in his pants. She gasped as her hand fisted his, thick, hard dick. "I want this." "Good." Cameron said, taking his shirt off. "Because I'm going to fuck you." He roared and that instant, her dress ripped open. She enjoyed the sound of the tear. She enjoyed being vulnerable and naked in front of him. Her nipples hardened and his tongue enveloped it. "You're mine. And I'll make you remember that. Every. Damn. Time." "I know." She whispered, unable to think. Her hand roamed around his body till she felt his gun. Isobel gasped. Cameron held her little fingers, reading the look on her face. He stopped and pulled out without taking his eyes off her body. He spread her legs wide for him. She's so beautiful. That pussy is his. Cameron loaded the gun with a bullet and cocked it. Isobel flinched. The mouth of the gun grazed her pussy in ways she enjoyed. She moaned, biting her lips. He was fucking her with his gun. This is her dream come true.

"Alex... help… please…" I tried to whisper, but no sound came out. I saw them, Alexander had his arms wrapped around Sophia, who was clutching him like her life depended on it. She was pressed against his chest, her face buried in his neck, and she wasn't letting go. "Don't look at her," Sophia whispered loudly. "You'll only make yourself sick with guilt. This isn't your fault. She did this to herself by being dramatic." That's when I heard the scream. "Oh my God! Mrs. Sterling!" Rosa, one of our housemaids, came rushing into the dining room. "Mrs. Sterling, what happened to you?" Rosa dropped to her knees beside me, her hands fluttering over my body like she didn't know where to start. "You're bleeding! There's so much blood everywhere!” I was bleeding? I couldn't feel anything below my waist anymore, but when I managed to glance down, I saw the dark stain spreading across my dress. "Mr. Alexander!" Rosa shouted, her voice cracking with an anger I’ve never seen in her before. She looked ready to commit murder. Did I look that bad? “Your wife is dying! How can you do this to her? How can you stand there holding another woman while your wife bleeds to death on the floor?!" Rosa snarled. "Rosa, lower your voice," Alexander snapped, but I could hear something different in his tone. Uncertainty. "Take Ivy to the hospital and stop making a scene, or you'll be looking for another job." Rosa shot back, tears streaming down her face. "¡Sos un bueno para nada! What kind of man are you?" I was going to die. Right here on my dining room floor, wearing my mother's blood-stained dress while my husband comforted another woman.

His gaze met mine, intense and possessive, his lips just an inch away as his lips left my nipple. “Say it, Erica,” he commanded, voice rough. “Say that you belong to me.” I swallowed, my heart pounding so hard I thought it might drown out my thoughts. He held me tightly, his fingers pressing into my skin as if trying to claim every inch of me, refusing to let me escape. “I... I don’t,” I whispered, my voice barely steady, the denial weak even to my own ears. He gave me a dark smile, then continued, his mouth finding my other breast. He sucked lightly, his other hand gripping my waist, making it clear he didn’t plan on letting go. His tongue drew imaginary circles around my nipple, his teeth nipping at my sensitive bud before he sucked it whole again like a starved man. “You don’t?” he murmured against my skin. “Then why haven’t you stopped me?” I opened my mouth to protest, but only a soft sound escaped, my hands tightening on his shoulders as he kept pushing, each suck and touch breaking down my defenses. I let out an ear splitting moan, “Raffael please…” *********** Erica’s world is shattered when she’s forced into a dangerous deal with Raffael Greco, the ruthless crime boss who now owns her. By day, she’s his maid, and by night, she works in his strip club—her body no longer her own. Drawn to the ruthless man who both torments and ignites her, Erica can’t resist the tension simmering between them. Raffael, obsessed with controlling her, finds himself slowly losing control instead. Can Erica survive being Raffael's sinful desire, or will his desires destroy her before she can escape?

Her eyes widened in horror. The sound was unmistakable — the snap of a belt buckle, the hiss of it being undone. Then came the crash of fabric hitting stone. Terror exploded in her chest. She struggled violently, chains biting into her wrists until blood slicked her palms. Her chest heaved, heart pounding so hard it hurt. Ezra pressed harder, his knee locking her in place. One hand clenched her throat — not enough to choke, but enough to remind her she could not escape. His breath was ragged, wild, as if possessed. “You feel it too,” he growled against her skin. “Don’t lie to me, Nova. Your body wants this. You want me.” No. No, no, no. Her body burned, but it wasn’t for him. It was the cursed bond, the fire belonging to another. And that other… Her eyes filled with tears. Her lips shaped a silent prayer: Kilian. The bond within her surged like wildfire. Her chest arched, a gasp tearing from her throat. She felt it — claws raking down her soul, a storm breaking in her veins. He was here. He had come for her. *** Nova is a skilled hunter, fierce and independent, yet unaware of her true nature and the extraordinary destiny that awaits her. Humiliated by her fellow hunter colleagues for refusing to kill innocent wolves, she flees — only to be rescued by Kilian, the feared Lycan King. Thrust into his world, she must prove herself and earn her place within his pack, all while navigating the sharp wit, teasing sarcasm, and growing tension between them. Kilian is powerful, commanding, and fiercely protective, yet finds himself drawn to Nova in ways he cannot explain. Their connection develops slowly, charged with banter, challenges, and unacknowledged desire. But Nova is far more special and powerful than anyone could have predicted. Her choices, and the bond she shares with Kilian, will shape the fate of their world — deciding whether to destroy it, or to revolutionize and transform it for the better. As they uncover enemies deeply rooted in their lives, they must rely on their bond, courage, and love to face what comes next.