Leather Harry Potter Books

Late nights. Locked doors. No rules. An innocent intern bends over her CEO’s desk and begs for his thick cock to ruin her tight pussy, raw, relentless, filling her until cum drips down her thighs. A quiet barista closes shop with his “straight” manager, only to end up bent over the counter, ass spread, tongue deep in his hole before getting fucked raw and bred until he can’t walk. Best friends share wine, secrets, and tongues—licking each other slow until clits throb and they’re scissoring hard, squirting on the couch. A stressed office girl books private yoga and ends up face-down on the mat, instructor’s strap pounding her dripping cunt while nipples get sucked swollen. Every story drips with forbidden heat: boss/employee power play, first-time gay awakenings, friends-to-lovers filth, workplace risks, raw breeding, anal obsession, edging that breaks you, oral that leaves you shaking, multiple loads, possessive growls, and climaxes that soak everything. M/F dominance, M/M rough claiming, F/F sensual surrender. 100% raw, no limits, no regrets. Short steamy stories. Lock your door, because once you start reading, your hand won’t stop moving.

"Say it," Tenz growled, yanking her hips against the hood of his blacked-out car, his hand wrapped around her throat like a necklace made of danger. Kyoline's breath shuddered as his mouth traced her jaw, his fingers sliding under the hem of her leather skirt, teasing, threatening. "Say you're mine, or I'll make you say it with your teeth clenched and your legs shaking," he hissed, dragging his tongue along her collarbone. She smirked through the haze of lust and war. "I'm not yours, Tenz... I'm just letting you play with me until someone better comes to steal me." "Someone like who?" he spat. A cold voice answered from behind the shadows. "Like me," Isaac said. And just like that... the chaos began. --- Kyoline Diego was born of blood, betrayal, and gunfire. A mafia princess with ash in her veins and a Glock in her purse. Her childhood ended the day her father-a respected Made Man-was assassinated. Left for dead, she crawled from the ruins with nothing but vengeance and two younger siblings she'd kill for. Now eighteen and jaded, Kyoline bartends for mob rats by night, runs guns for a price, and slays in gold heels by morning. Love? It's not on the agenda. Survival is. Enter Tenz Jersey-her inked-up, lie-laced mafia beau. The man who f*cks like a god and lies like a sermon. He gives her fire, chaos, and a reason to breathe. He also gives her bruises she wears like medals and promises that vanish like smoke. She tells herself he's enough. Until Isaac. Cold. Calculating. Beautiful in a way that feels like a bullet wound. He shoves her into an unmarked SUV, claims he's NYPD, feeds her lies and cannoli-then laughs while she figures out he's actually the most lethal hitman.....

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.

Il la voulait juste pour une nuit et pas pour toujours. Le jour de son anniversaire, ivre et imprudent, le futur Alpha, Harry Blackridge prend ce qu’il avait toujours voulu pendant des années, son corps et au matin il réalise l’erreur que le destin avait faite. Elle est son âme sœur. « Oublie ce qui s’est passé, » lui dit-il, froid et distant, et elle le fait, ou essaie de le faire, jusqu’à ce qu’une attaque de rogue la mette à l’hôpital de la meute, saignant et appelant son nom, encore et encore, pendant qu’il reste dans une autre pièce tenant la main d’une autre femme. Cela la brise complètement, tout devient encore pire quand elle découvre même qu’elle est enceinte aussi. La loi de la meute ne laisse aucun choix. Un an, un contrat et un mariage sans promesses et sans amour. La nuit, il la touche comme si elle lui appartenait, son corps sûr même quand son cœur ne l’est pas, et elle le laisse faire, mais ne lui donne jamais plus. Maintenant il veut tout mais elle n’est pas sûre de le vouloir encore.

I stepped closer. Close enough to smell his cologne—cedarwood, leather, and power. My hand moved. Smooth, practiced. The pistol slide from under the apron into my palm. I raised it fast. But before I could pull the trigger— BANG. Not my shot. A scream tore through the restaurant as another man launched himself toward Romano’s table, blade flashing. Another assassin. What the hell— Romano didn’t flinch. He shoved the table forward, knocking the attacker off balance. The blade scraped across wood, not skin. I ducked instinctively as the room erupted into chaos. Gunfire cracked. Glass exploded. People screamed and dove for cover. “Get him out—NOW!” one of the guards barked. I aimed for the second attacker. Didn’t even hesitate. One shot—head. Gone. The guard saw me. Confusion flashed in his eyes. Then rage. I ran. I weaved between overturned chairs, plates, and screaming bodies. The smell of blood was real now, thick in the air. One of the guards grabbed me. I slammed my elbow into his ribs, twisted, and brought the butt of my gun down on his skull. He dropped like a sack of bricks. Out. I had to get out. My boots pounded the floor as I tore through the narrow hallway. But then— “Elisa.” His voice stopped me cold. I turned. Antonio Romano stood in the middle of the carnage, suit untouched, blood spattered behind him like art. His eyes were on me. And he was smiling. It was darker. Slower. Like a hunter seeing something worth chasing. Somehow, he knew who I was. “Interesting,” he said softly, tilting his head. “They sent you.” I didn’t answer. I ran. But that voice followed me. He knew my name. And he let me go. This wasn’t over. It had just begun.

Serene’s heart raced as she stood in Nicholas’s dimly lit study, the scent of leather and whiskey heavy in the air. She’d been dusting the bookshelves when he entered, his presence filling the room like a storm. Now, he stood inches away, his black suit hugging his broad shoulders, his dark mullet framing a gaze that burned with intent. “You missed a spot,” he murmured, his voice a low growl, pointing to a shelf she’d already cleaned. Her cheeks flushed as she turned, the hem of her maid uniform riding up her thighs. “I-I’ll get it, Mr. Volkov,” she stammered, reaching up, but his hand caught her wrist, firm yet gentle. “No,” he said, stepping closer, his breath warm against her ear. “Let me show you.” His fingers slid down her arm, leaving a trail of heat, before guiding her hand to the shelf. His chest pressed against her back, and she gasped at the hardness of his body, the evidence of his arousal unmistakable. “You’re trembling, little maid,” he whispered, his lips brushing her neck, sending shivers down her spine. “Do I scare you… or do I excite you?” Her breath hitched as his free hand trailed up her thigh, slipping beneath the lace of her uniform. “Mr. Volkov…” she whimpered, but her protest melted into a moan as his fingers found her, teasing her through the thin fabric of her panties. “ Nicholas,” he corrected, his voice rough with desire, his touch growing bolder, circling her most sensitive spot until her knees buckled. “Say it,” he demanded, nipping her earlobe. “N-Nicholas,” she gasped, her body arching into him, surrendering to the fire he’d ignited. In that moment, the billionaire and his naive maid were bound by a hunger neither could deny.

"Jett?" My voice trembled. "Shhh, Bunny," he murmured, tilting the bottle and pouring the liquor over my p***y. The cold sting hit my swollen folds, and I jolted up, gasping as the burn spread through me. "Ahhh—!" I nearly buckled from the mix of cold fire and his hot tongue as he went back to eating me. My body jerked off the table, chasing the torment I knew I couldn’t withstand. He pulled back, eyes dark, smirking as his tongue followed every drop running down my thighs. "F***," he groaned. "You taste even better with whiskey on your pussy." --- I thought my biggest mistake was crushing on Jason Maltideon—my best friend, the boy I’d spent my life yearning for—only for him to reject me the moment the Goddess fated me to him. But my real mistake? Giving myself to the wrong man. His twin brother—Jettison Maltideon. He’s everything I should fear: wild, reckless, a walking sin wrapped in leather and gasoline. The kind of man who fights too hard, drinks too much, and smirks like he knows exactly how to ruin me. I hate him. I hate that he looks just like the man who shattered my heart. I hate that he knows my darkest secrets—and doesn’t care. But most of all, I hate that when he touches me, I burn. Jettison wants me. He doesn’t take no, and he’s made it clear he’ll chase me until I break. Now, with the Moon Goddess pulling our strings in a storm of betrayal, forbidden bonds, and a sickness tearing our pack apart, I’ll have to decide— Is Jettison my ruin? Or the only wolf who was ever meant to save me? Note: Rated 18+. Dark romance, morally complex characters, and triggering themes.

Warning VIEWER’S DISCRETION IS ADVISED. If you're not into raw, filthy BDSM, dominant alphas, submissive sluts, deep throat gagging or relentless multiple orgasms, then close this now. But if the thought of being used hard and without mercy makes your thighs clench… I dare you to keep reading. “On your knees, pet,” Master Kane growled, his leather belt already looped in his hand. I dropped instantly, mouth watering, ass raised high like the obedient little whore he’d trained me to be. The cold floor bit into my skin, but the sting only made me wetter. He stepped closer, unzipped slowly, and fed his thick, throbbing cock between my lips until I gagged—tears streaming, mascara running, just the way he liked. “Good girl,” he praised, fisting my hair and f**king my throat deeper. “You take it so well for a slut who begged me not to stop last time.” I whimpered around him, my pussy clenching emptily, already soaked and ready for whatever punishment came next. He pulled out suddenly, strings of spit connecting us, and flipped me onto the table—wrists bound tight with his belt, legs spread wide. One brutal thrust and he was buried balls-deep in my ass, no warning, no mercy. I screamed. He laughed. And he didn’t stop until I was sobbing his name, coming hard around the invasion I craved. I’m his employee by day. His collared f**ktoy by night. If anyone at the office ever found out how I beg my boss to ruin me… I’d be fired. He’d be ruined. But when he owns every hole like this, how could I ever say no? Ready to watch her break and beg for more? Dive in… if you dare.

Autumn Simeons had loved Damian McLaren for as long as she could remember. From childhood to their teenage years, he was her safe place, the one person who made life feel lighter. But while Damian came from wealth and privilege, Autumn’s life was far simpler—and his heart seemed to belong to someone else. She kept her feelings hidden, choosing to be the best friend he could rely on. That fragile balance broke when Damian got a girlfriend who saw Autumn as a threat. Tension grew until, without warning, Damian cut her out of his life completely. One day they were inseparable; the next, he treated her like a stranger. Months later, fate intervened when Damian’s mother, worried about his slipping grades, asked Autumn to tutor him—unaware of the rift between them. Both protested, but their parents insisted. Now, forced into the same space, Autumn must face the boy she still loves, who seems to resent her presence. His girlfriend’s shadow hangs over every exchange, and unspoken history simmers beneath the surface. As old feelings resurface, Autumn realizes some lessons can’t be taught from books—they live in stolen glances, unsaid words, and memories that refuse to fade.

Elle had been chasing the man she wants, almost all her life. She did everything she can just to make Grey fall inlove with her. Kahit masakit. Kahit gaano katagal. Akala nya kapag nakuha nya na, masaya na. Just like the books she used to read, the ending would always be in favour of the main characters. But in her case, it didn’t. She endlessly chased the man she thought could make her happy, only to bleed more. But she was only a human, she can’t forever revolve her world around him. So, she gave up. Ayaw nya na. Pagod na pagod na sya. Ang patuloy na pagtataboy ni Grey ang nag-udyok sa kanya para tapusin na ang mga kahibangan nya. Her ignored heart’s revival was to move on, forget every shameful things she did, and live her life without him. That was the plan. Pero kaya nya bang iwan si Grey? Gaano ba kadali ang kalimutan ang isang tao na kabisado mo na buong buhay mo? Paano ba kalimutan ang isang taong minahal mo higit pa sa sarili mo?