Loud House Lincoln X Sam Novels & Stories

"Chels, you're turned on too, aren't you?" During a visit to the haunted house with my best friend, Chelsea Higgins, and her boyfriend, Ivan Benton, Ivan has mistaken me for Chelsea and has embraced me from behind. I can feel his warm palm slowly sliding up the hem of my skirt in the pitch-black darkness. At the same time, his hot breath keeps splaying over my nape and my earlobe. The most embarrassing thing is, I'm starting to get turned on by Ivan's actions for real.

His dick continued pounding into her. He had gone harder, stretching her even more. She couldn't help but moan. This sound had him losing his mind. He went even faster, his finger stuck in her hair. "Fuck!" He cursed as his breathing turned rapid. His hand went down to spread her legs apart as she tried closing them, not being to take all he was giving her. "Don't close them!" He said between grunts. His hand went to play with her clit. It had turned swollen. With each thrust, his hand went in a circle on her. His rough fingers were soft on her, going soft but at the same time, hard. He knew his techniques. Her legs began shaking more as she was on edge. She was ready to cum. Her eyes rolled to the back of her head as she began to drool slightly. His thrust remained in pace soon her walls began to tighten. She was near. " Oh yes!" She screamed as she came hard on his dick. She tried catching her breath, short of air from their sex. Quickly, he rolled over and she ended up on top. His dick was still inside her, hard and twisting. That was when it hit her, he hadn't had his release but she still asked. "What are you doing?" "We aren't done yet. You are going to ride me, hard and fast."

Veronica, a musician in a band, finds herself on a sticky wicket when she realizes that the man of her dreams—Théo Reynaud—is an elaborate masquerade to his danger-seeking alter ego. As she tries to stay relevant in the music scene, she battles depression and bouts of anxiety while dealing with a dysfunctional long-distance relationship. Théo is a fashion model striving to make a good living in the cutthroat industry while moonlighting as an informant. After a vindictive crime boss endangers his family, he is tasked to complete his final assignment to keep his loved ones out of harm's way, and be with the woman he loves. ▬▬▬▬▬▬ genres: CONTEMPORARY ROMANCE, CRIME, DRAMA ▬▬▬▬▬▬ This is a work of fiction. Places, characters, dialogues, and incidents are either the product of the author's imagination, or are used fictitiously. This story contains profanity, sexual themes, drug usage, and some violence intended for mature readers. Read at your own risk. [DISCLAIMER: The author does not own the original images on the book cover.]

"From now on, whenever you call me ‘Daddy’ in public, only you and I will know the true meaning behind it," said Gabriel Bloodfang. Every time I call him Daddy, only the two of us understand the truth hidden behind that word. To the world, I’m just a human girl saved by Alpha Bloodfang. To the Pack, I’m nothing more than a lucky adopted daughter. But to me, Daddy is everything, he’s my first love and my forbidden desire. One look from him makes my blood tremble. One touch from him ignites a fire that no law could ever extinguish.

One day, I received a call from the property management. They politely advised me that even if it was a wedding, there was no need to make such a ruckus all night long, disturbing the neighbors. They said they were caught in the middle, and it was hard for them to deal with it. I replied, "You must be mistaken. I don't even have a boyfriend, so how could I be getting married?" Since I refused to admit it, the property management sent me a video from the community's security cameras. In the video, the hallway was decorated with lights and flowers, and guests were coming and going. A large group of people were escorting the bride into the new home. And the groom was none other than my ex-boyfriend, who I had broken up with two and a half years ago!

"I swear I will kill you, Darkaldie Halcremide!" She swore, hatred in every word she uttered. "And I will find every attempt pleasurable, Astra." * Astra, picture perfect, a young priestess so perfect that her position as next head priestess was certain. Certain until he crashed into her life, Darkaldie Halcremide. He is her downfall. Her ruin. Crushing her pack and usurping the throne in a single day, Astra's life and future comes to an end and she seeks nothing more than death but Darkaldie craves not her death, but instead, his dark, filthy soul craves her pure, untainted soul. He is determined to get the perfect priestess to break and to crave but if there be anything Astra now craves, it is the death of Darkaldie Halcremide. She would go to any length for her sole craving, his death. And yet, what Darkaldie wants, Darkaldie gets. A struggle, a tussle. Cravings clash, lust stir, secrets lurk. Astra is TAKEN but Darkaldie's life, she vows to take. TAKEN - A Rogue King x Priestess Romance.

On New Year's Day, my childhood friend asked me for the passcode to my new house. I thought she was planning to bring a housewarming gift, but when I opened the door, I froze in shock. There were more than a dozen people inside. She walked over with a smile before giving me a subtle look. "Ryan, what are you doing here? Come on in. You're just in time. You're lucky enough to catch our family gathering." I stood there in stunned silence. Before I could even ask what was going on, her boyfriend suddenly spoke in a mocking tone. "Is your childhood friend very persuasive? I'm curious how he sweet-talked you into giving him your house's passcode." Her expression instantly turned serious. "He didn't sweet-talk me. He got on his knees and begged. He said he had a fight with his family and got kicked out with nowhere to stay. You know how soft-hearted I am. I didn't think much of it and just gave it to him." Her boyfriend's eyes had a look of contempt. "No normal man would stoop that low. Who knows how many women he's begged behind the scenes just to get what he wants." She gave him a look of approval. "Babe, how are you so smart? There was a time he stripped naked and begged me just to buy a watch he liked. I've told you about it." Her boyfriend burst out laughing. "So that was him? He's honestly shameless." Seeing her spew lies so casually and irresponsibly, I couldn't contain my anger. I stepped forward and slapped her hard across the face. "Who the hell do you think you are? Taking over my house and slandering me? Get out."

In the third year since my husband, Axel Kramer, starts working as a rideshare driver, we finally manage to buy a home of our own. On the day we move in, he suddenly says to me, "Some friends want to come over for dinner tonight. I already said yes." I'm someone who values boundaries and doesn't like outsiders coming into my home. Even when we host relatives, we take them out to restaurants. "Can't we just go to a restaurant?" I ask. He looks helpless as he replies, "I already suggested that, but Lindsay said it would be more fun if we hang out at home. She said we should liven it up in our new home. And since everyone knows I'm a good cook, she wants to try my cooking too." One corner of my eye twitches with displeasure. Lindsay Brun is the female driver he's mentioned the most over these three years. She's also the only woman in their rideshare drivers' group chat.

My name is Christian Thompson, and once upon a time, I was the best striker in European football. That was until he came along—Ashford Ryder, young and carefree, 10 years my junior and the new shining star. I hate him. At least that's what I tell myself. Not just because he's taken my spot, but because he's everything I've struggled all my life to be, and not to be. He's vibrant, he's happy, and the worst of all, he's openly gay. I'm not homophobic, quite the opposite—I've lived in the closet all my life. All my life, I've had to hide who I am to please the people around me. European football hasn't always been this accepting of gay men, and I'd squeezed myself into a box to fit in with what they wanted of me. It isn’t that hard when you think about my family who'd rather disown me than have an openly gay son. So imagine how I feel when the world decides to be more accommodating to people like Ashford Ryder when they shoved me in a box. It's not so easy to hate the happy-go-lucky striker, when he does everything to get close to me, despite my insistent hatred for him. He's like a thorn in my side—a hot, sexy, blonde, 5ft9 thorn I can't stop thinking about. But when one day I lose my cool around the popular striker and land myself in bad press, I end up needing his help. It's supposed to be easy. Spend some time with Ashford Ryder, and show our fans that we can work together—it's what I need to do to save my career. But no one tells you how hard it is to hate someone you spend every waking hour dreaming about.

Because I was a cheapskate, I rented a cheap apartment. The catch? Someone had died in it. The soundproofing of the house was bad, and I could hear my neighbor’s wife moaning every night. But my other neighbor told me that there was no one living in the apartment next to mine.