Lou Carmody

WARNING: This book contains explicit sexual content, intense BDSM, and steamy adult affairs. It is strictly for readers 18 years and older. If you are under 18, please stop here. Tempt Me, Master is not for the faint of heart. Step into a world where desire rules, control excites, and every touch burns hotter than the last. From the office to secret bedrooms, from strict dominants to willing submissives, these stories explore forbidden pleasures, raw lust, and intense erotic tension that will leave you breathless. In these sizzling tales, every heartbeat, every glance, and every whispered command drives women to the edge of pleasure. Lou is caught in the strict, commanding grip of her boss Dante, surrendering completely to his control in private sessions that are as painful as they are intoxicating. Jane signs a daring contract with her boss Eric, where obedience becomes her ultimate aphrodisiac. And in other stories, midnight temptations, secret encounters behind closed doors, and one night of unrestrained ownership ignite passions that can’t be tamed. Each story is a journey of craving and surrender — where lust dominates reason, and every desire is explored without shame. If you love erotic affairs, commanding lovers, and forbidden pleasures that leave the body trembling, **Tempt Me, Master** is your ultimate escape. Enter only if you’re ready to obey, crave, and succumb to the heat of desire.

No meu aniversário, meu noivo usou os pontos do supermercado para me dar um par de luvas de lavar louça. Mas num leilão, ele comprou uma joia de cinco milhões de dólares para o primeiro amor dele. Fiquei furiosa e o confrontei, mas ele me chamou de interesseira. — Eu sempre te dei dinheiro pra gastar. Não é mais que justo você cuidar de mim? Isso era pra ser meu teste final pra você. Se passasse, a gente ia casar. Você me decepcionou demais. Terminei com ele. Ele se virou e pediu a ex em casamento. Cinco anos depois, a gente se esbarrou numa ilha privada de férias. Alex Thompson me viu de uniforme de funcionária catando lixo na praia. Na mesma hora, ele zombou de mim. — Você torceu o nariz pras luvas que eu te dei, e agora tá aqui catando lixo. Hoje em dia, mesmo se você implorasse, eu não te daria a mínima. Ignorei ele. O projeto de estudos sociais do meu filho era limpar o quintal com um dos pais. O pai dele tinha expandido o quintal até chegar na praia. Limpar aquilo era de matar.

(Witchita Series #1) On the evening of Santacruzan, I met Gideon, the consort of my life. Months later, we grew closer to each other, but then... he found out about the bet and we split up. Weeks after our breakup, he confronted and told me, “Panagutan mo ako... Buntis ako," and I was like, “Gago ka ba?” Days after my family revealed our biggest secrets, I made up my list. To do: 1. Get to know more about my family's identity, history, and special ability (especially in dealing with a pregnant male partner!) 2. Master my family's craft — witchcraft. 3. Attend to Deon's needs, assist, and take care of him. 4. Protect and keep him away from his pack for nine months (or else our child's gonna get killed because Deon's a son of an alpha b*tch!) 5. Plan about our child's financial support and our parental setup. 6. Make sure that the whole pregnancy experience will be tolerable for the first-time mommy (or pappy or whatsoever, I don't really know what to call him, geez...) 7. The child should stay with my family after Deon gave birth because he or she belongs to us, to the kind who needs to keep hiding. 8. And the most important thing to do, love my child with all my heart, mind, and Witchita soul. I am Angie Lou Pereira, a Witchita, and this is my guide to successful parenting.

He makes you touch the sky when he’s between your legs, claiming your body with a passion that dismantles your defenses. He takes root in your chest, reaches the darkest corners of your mind — and it excites you. Maybe that’s what connected you two. He saw your worst side and loved you. You saw his worst and loved him back. DON, The Pitbull — as he became known for his brutal bites inside São Paulo’s fighting rings — arrived in the city while fleeing a barbaric crime, forced to rebuild his life in the shadows. Today, he is the “King of Tartarus,” ruler of an underground fight club sponsored by powerful businessmen and corrupt politicians. On a cold São Paulo night, his path collides with that of a reckless, drunken girl who runs him over on a deserted street. From that encounter, an uncontrollable obsession is born between them. Louise lives in a world opposite to Don’s. Wealthy, the daughter of influential figures, she once had a perfect life — until she discovered it was nothing but an illusion. It’s when the criminal steps in that she finds her emergency exit. Don is the shot of adrenaline she desperately craves. He is the drug that intoxicates her. The punishment she deserves. And Louise can’t resist. The attraction between them is forbidden, and little by little it awakens the darkest instincts within the criminal. It’s as if he can see a side of Louise that no one else can — a side she fights fiercely to keep hidden. Lou knows Don carries a disturbing past. That he is dangerous and violent. But what should make her afraid and push her away is also what excites her… and fuels a ravenous desire.

Layla Emilliene Ponce is a troublemaker with a purpose. She helped people through her tactic even it was against the school's rules and regulations. She is careless. Ever since she entered senior high, she's either got suspended or always summoned in guidance, but it never leads to a more serious case. Now she's in her last year of senior high. Her life turned upside down when she meets the newly elected student council's president— Cadence Lou Montes. The strict one. The perfectionist. Students should obey his rules no matter what. Layla and Cadence had a bitter start, a perfect example of a dog and cat, and if a stare could kill, they were both buried on the ground already, which is why Layla hates him. Their first impression of each other isn't something should ask for them. Surely, just answering it would look as if they are cursing each other. When Layla got rejected by her long time crush, Calum, she always encountered Cadence. Both seemly didn't expect what will come ahead of them. But when an unexpected situation came, they both learned each other's past and family situation. Unconsciously, they became close. Eventually, they turned from enemies to lovers. Nevertheless, no one expected the twist of fate. Layla thought she already knows Cadence well, but it turns out he's the other way around. He has a dark secret. He has a long-time girlfriend— Aria that currently in a coma due to a car accident. A big mistake and the dark secret that made Layla doubt his feelings for her, especially when she knew she was his first love.

Quando eu estava prestes a sair do restaurante do meu irmão, a gerente me parou. — Senhorita, desculpe, mas a senhora não pagou a conta. Olhei para o rosto desconhecido e pensei que ela provavelmente era nova e não me reconhecia, então expliquei educadamente: — Coloque na conta do dono. Ele me conhece. A gerente me lançou um olhar de desdém. — Senhorita, este é um restaurante três estrelas Michelin. Não deixamos qualquer um fazer fiado. Ela me entregou uma conta impressa. Dei uma olhada. Cinquenta mil dólares por uma refeição. Três mil pela manutenção da louça, cinco mil pela purificação exclusiva do ar, dez mil por uma taxa de serviço VIP de "práticas relaxantes" e uma porção de outras cobranças absurdas. Eu nem sabia que o restaurante do meu irmão era um golpe desses. Não pude deixar de rir, incrédula. — Eu sou a irmã do dono. Se houver algum problema, diga a ele para falar comigo em casa. Mas ela simplesmente não desistia. — Se não pode pagar, pare de fingir que pode. E não finja que conhece o senhor White também. Mandei uma mensagem rápida para minha secretária: [Diga ao meu irmão para demitir essa gerente ou eu retiro meu investimento.]

In Alabama’s rot-soaked bayous, Drucilla Drakes survives by three rules: silence, scars, and never letting Louise—her Bible-thumping captor—catch her hoping. But when a schoolyard ambush leaves her bleeding beneath a stranger’s leather jacket, invisibility becomes a death sentence. Enter Dragon Morales: New Orleans’ most notorious runaway, a cartel prince turned outlaw mechanic with grease-stained hands and a death wish. He doesn’t save people—he survives them. Yet in Dru’s lashed flesh and hellfire gaze, he sees his own shattered reflection. Their bond is gasoline and matches. Dragon’s father—Colombia’s cartel kingpin—hunts them relentlessly. Louise, armed with voodoo rites and the chaos-hungry loa Marinette, vows to break Dru. Their only allies? The Lou Nwa, a bayou biker gang trading in bullets and black magic, and Papa Legba, the crossroads spirit who offers Dru a lethal bargain: *“Her soul or yours.”* Fleeing through the Deep South’s cursed underbelly, they dodge cartel hitmen, haunted swamps, and safehouses reeking of betrayal. Dark magic seeps into old wounds; family secrets tighten like nooses. Dragon swears he’s too ruined to love. Dru knows she’s too shattered to trust. But in the bayou’s choking heat, desire is a grenade they can’t outrun. This isn’t a fairytale. It’s switchblade kisses and saintly curses—a collision of fire and ruin where protectors become predators. Dru doesn’t need saving; she needs an inferno. And Dragon? He’s got a lighter and nothing left to burn. Will they raze the South to ashes, or become the sacrifice the crossroads demands? One truth remains: in the bayou, even survival leaves scars. **Warning:** No princes here. Just bayou smoke, blood-soaked magic, and the kind of love that devours.

Après avoir été traitée comme une banque de sang par le premier amour de mon mari, je suis morte de maladie dans le logement loué que mon mari milliardaire m'a concédé par charité. Aujourd'hui, cela a fait trois jours depuis ma mort, et mon fils de six ans a enfin compris que quelque chose n'allait pas. Il a joué avec ses jouets et s'est coupé le doigt, et je ne l'ai pas consolé. Il a ouvert un paquet de biscuits et a porté la nourriture à ma bouche, et je ne l'ai pas arrêté. Il s'est blotti contre moi, a agrippé mes vêtements et a murmuré « maman », et je n'ai pas répondu. Désemparé, il a trouvé mon téléphone et a appelé son père, mon mari milliardaire. « Papa, pourquoi maman dort encore ? » L'homme a aussitôt envoyé une photo de lui en train de dîner pour la veille de Noël avec son premier amour, puis a dit d'une voix froide : « Elle dort, elle n'est pas morte. Aujourd'hui, c'est la veille de Noël, je suis très occupé. » « Dis à ta mère capricieuse que le jour où elle acceptera de reconnaître son erreur, elle pourra revenir me voir. » L'appel s'est terminé. Mon fils est resté figé longtemps. Il a ramassé dans la poubelle le dernier biscuit de la maison, l'a cassé en deux et a porté un morceau à ma bouche. « Maman, mangeons aussi. »

Azar Khaled, 29 ans, est l’attaquant-star de l’Olympique de Marseille. Icône du football français, capitaine adulé et machine à buts, il incarne la ville sur les terrains du Vélodrome comme dans les campagnes de pub de luxe. Il est beau, riche, puissant. Entouré de gardes du corps, de sponsors et de femmes sublimes, il vit dans une villa ultramoderne sur les hauteurs, loin du bruit, loin du réel. Mais Azar s’ennuie. Derrière les flashs et les trophées, il étouffe. Tout le monde l’admire, mais plus personne ne l’atteint. Jusqu’à elle. Leyna Dias, 20 ans, vit à l’opposé de ce monde. Une cité bétonnée du 13e arrondissement. Une mère malade, deux petits frères à charge. Serveuse dans un bar à chicha, elle enchaîne les petits boulots pour survivre. Elle rêve en cachette d’un autre avenir mais elle a appris à ne rien attendre. Surtout pas d’un homme comme lui. Ils n’auraient jamais dû se croiser. Mais une nuit, Leyna est engagée comme hôtesse lors d’une soirée privée organisée pour les partenaires de l’OM, dans une villa de luxe sur la Corniche. Robe louée. Badge provisoire. Interdiction de parler aux invités. Elle le voit. Et lui, il la repère immédiatement. Pas pour son physique il a vu défiler toutes les formes de beauté. Mais pour ce qu’elle refuse de donner. Son regard, calme et fiévreux. Sa façon d’être là sans chercher à séduire. Elle ne joue pas. Elle ne ment pas. Il ne sait pas pourquoi, mais il la veut.

Avant mes dix-huit ans, j'avais été la princesse adorée de la famille Moreau. Tout cela a changé le jour de mon dix-huitième anniversaire, lorsque mon père a ramené à la maison une orpheline du nom de Catherine. « Elle a besoin d'un foyer, » a dit mon père. « Tu t'occuperas d'elle, comme d'une sœur. » À partir de ce moment, rien n'était plus pareil. Mon frère, qui m'adulait autrefois, est devenu froid et distant. Et mon fiancé… son amour pour moi a semblé se réduire de moitié du jour au lendemain. La famille a loué Catherine pour sa douceur et son obéissance, la qualifiant de bien meilleure fille que moi, comme leur propre chair et sang. Après avoir été mise de côté pour Catherine trop de fois, j'ai craqué enfin et ai attrapé la manche de mon père. « Le lien du sang ne signifie-t-il rien du tout ? » La fureur de mon père s'est enflammée. Il a caché une Catherine en larmes derrière lui, et devant tous les membres de la famille, il m'a giflée violemment. « Espèce de déchet égoïste. J'aurais préféré ne jamais t'avoir. » « Tu as coupé l'honneur de cette famille, » la voix de mon frère, Marco, était aussi froide qu'une lame. « Va-t'en. » Et mon fiancé, Vincent, m'a regardée avec déception. « Pourquoi a-t-il fallu que ce soit toi ? Pourquoi n'ai-je pas été fiancé à Catherine depuis le début ? » Ils pensaient que je me prosternerais à leurs pieds, comme je l'avais toujours fait. Mais je n'ai dit rien. J'ai marché simplement vers le coffre-fort de la famille, en ai retiré les documents officiels, et ai tracé une seule ligne à travers mon nom. J'ai retiré la bague de fiançailles de mon doigt et l'ai déposée sur la table. J'ai donné à Catherine tout ce qu'ils pensaient que je ne méritais pas. Après tout, il ne me restait que quelques jours à vivre. Mais ils ne savaient pas alors qu'au milieu des ruines de la famille Moreau, un jour, ils se retrouveraient à genoux sous la pluie, implorant mon retour.