Lips On The Tips Of A Knife

"You are the reason..." I said with shaky hands. "Tavi..." Essex breathed. "I swear I would break down every mountain and build never ending bridges to get to you, mate. You're the reason my heart is still bleeding," I replied with glossy eyes. "You are my reason, Tavi," he said before crashing his lips into mine. "I cannot lose you," I replied allowing those tears to freely fall. "You won't. I love you," he said kissing my tears away.

He is the most cold and domineering man in the entire empire, never getting close to women, but an accident bound him to her in marriage. During the day, he's cold and irritable, but at night, he holds her tightly, backing her into a corner with a mix of dominance and tenderness, whispering soft demands and kissing her lips as if he wants to engrave her into his very soul. “Baby, tell me you love me.” “For the rest of your life, be only mine, alright?” Once a man who looked down on everything, now his heart and eyes are filled with only her.

She signed a contract with him to become the lady at his beck and call. He claimed, “This is for our mutual benefit. Once the contract expires, we will be nothing but strangers.” However, he broke his promise and refused to let her go. “Liam Ackman, when will you ever let me go?” His thin lips curled up into a smirk as he picked her up bridal style. “Anna Hamilton, you are mine for the rest of your life! Don’t even think about leaving!” Turned out, it had always been a trap, and she fell for it. There was no escaping his grasp! 

Have you ever dreamt of becoming your stepson's wife? Of course, Jules never expected it, until she met him. * “Who is she?” he barked staring at the woman standing beside his dad with a cold gaze. “Your stepmom, Jules. My newly wedded wife.” his father answered, drawing Jules closer. Hero's lips twitched. Stepmom? He took in the young exquisite woman and sneered. She's more like a gold digger and as long as he's here, he would never accept her as his stepmom. Never!

When I arrive at a villa to fulfill an order, the beautiful young woman living there looks at me expectantly, her face flushed. "Stop looking around—there aren't any dogs here. I'm the one you need to feed…" She changes into inviting lingerie and pins me to the couch. Her voice is coy, and her lips are soft. She parts them slightly and looks at me lovingly. "Remember to use all your strength to fill me up, okay? If you don't, I'll give you a bad rating…"

The morning after their night together, Harper Sullivan froze with a sudden, sickening realization—Ryan Delgado hadn't used protection. Fear coiled tight in her chest, sharp and suffocating. But Ryan just smirked, his voice smooth, teasing, as if this were some kind of game. "Our families are enemies. A baby changes that. Your father would have to accept me. Then I could marry you—properly." Heat rushed to her cheeks. She should have pushed him away, should have demanded answers—but his touch still burned through her resistance, and she gave in to him. Then, like a knife to the ribs, she heard his friend's voice from the next room, laced with cruel amusement. "Ryan, that's genius. Get her pregnant, then dump her. Harper would never recover from the scandal. And her family? Total disgrace." Ryan let out a cold, satisfied laugh. "Serves her right. She stole Olivia's spot as valedictorian, broke her heart, drove her overseas. I'll make sure she pays—this is for Olivia." Harper's body went rigid. Three years. Three years of stolen moments, swallowed secrets, letting him touch her in the dark while her family believed her loyal. And it had all been a lie. Rage and humiliation crashed over her, so violent she nearly choked on it. Her phone buzzed in her trembling hand. Fighting back tears, she answered. "Dad… I'll take the engagement."

"You can hate me all you want, Cameron," Brandon murmured, lips brushing his ear. "But by the end of this marriage, you'll crave me." Cameron Aston is straight. Or so he thought—until his father forces him into an engagement with Brandon Deville, the arrogant, maddeningly attractive heir to a rival empire. What should have been a cold business deal turns into a dangerous game of tension, temptation, and blurred lines. Because the more Cameron fights Brandon, the harder he falls. And in this marriage, losing might mean wanting something he swore he never would.

I walked back to the bed, laid a small kiss on his plump lips and whispered, “I just got my revenge Mr Russo, and there's nothing you can ever do about it. You ruined everything but I finally took something back.” Elara exacts revenge against billionaire Lorenzo Russo by stealing his wallet, but her satisfaction is short-lived. Lorenzo doesn't tolerate thieves, and when he catches her, she must face the consequences. What drives Elara to steal from a billionaire, and what will Lorenzo do when he discovers her secret?

My back hit the cold wall of the Alpha’s packhouse, my breath hitched in my throat as the triplets closed in—Asher, Alaric, and Argent. Asher leaned in first, his mouth brushing against my ear. “Sign the contract, Alisha,” he growled. “You’re ours. Your body, soul, and every filthy little sound you make.” I swallowed hard as Alaric’s fingers traced a circle around my swollen areola in an infuriating slow-mo. “See, your body is already responding, stop pretending you don’t want to be ruined by us.” Argent stepped in last, his hand skimming under the hem of my dress. “You’re trembling, sweetheart. Not from fear… but from need. Say the word, and we’ll own every inch of you.” “And if I say no?” my voice was shaky as I bit down the moan crawling up my throat. The three of them exchanged glances and then turned to me. And like a rehearsed lyric, they all unisoned. “Then we make you beg on your knees. And we won’t stop until you forget your own name… just ours.” Asher grabbed my chin, tilting it up. “Last chance, sweetheart. Safe word or surrender.” My lips parted. “I surrender.” That was all they needed. Alaric was behind me instantly, lips on my neck, one hand wrapping around my waist, the other dragging the strap of my dress down torturously slow. “Good girl,” he murmured, his teeth grazing my skin. “You’re ours now.” •••••••• This is not just a love story. It’s survival. And it starts with rejection…

“No! Please, Santiago--” I whimpered, as his hand seized my wrist with an iron grip, yanking me forward, dragging me effortlessly toward the chair he had pulled into the center of the room the night before. The symbol of my humiliation. He stopped right in front of the chair, spinning me around, facing him. "You want me to be your monster, mi ángel?" His hand grabbed my throat, tilting my chin up until my eyes locked with his dark gaze. I flinched from the sudden movement. "Cause I’ll be your favorite monster — just say the word, cariño." Santiago’s face hovered only inches from mine. His lips so close, I could taste the sweetness of his breath — once making butterflies take flight in my stomach, now curdling my insides into a cold, suffocating fear. Slowly, his free hand rose toward my face. I held my breath. His touch was deceptively soft and gentle, caressing my cheek. His thumb lingered against my lips, tracing them slowly, his eyes fixed there as he spoke — his voice soft, yet heavy with menace. "Divorce is not an option, mi amor. We took a vow five years ago. Remember?" He finally lifted his gaze to meet mine, catching every flicker of fear before he delivered his last words like a verdict: "Till death do us part."