Lower Moons

“Why are you like this, Axel?” she asked in a low voice, her tone slightly breaking. “Why won't you just leave me alone?” For a moment, something inside me stirred. I reached out slowly and placed my fingers under her chin, lifting her face. She tried to look away, but I wouldn’t let her. Tears pooled in her eyes, but she bit her lower lip stubbornly, trying to keep them from falling. But that tiny act of defiance… God, it did something to me. I wanted to pull her closer, to claim her, to make her mine and never let anyone else touch her. “One year,” I said finally. She frowned. “What?” “I want you,” I said clearly. “For one year, you’ll be my woman. In exchange, I’ll take care of you, your needs, your family’s protection, your brother’s freedom. Everything.” *** After catching her scumbag boyfriend in bed with her coworker, Olivia Brooks did what any heartbroken woman might… she drowned her sorrows at a club. One too many drinks later, she ended up in the arms of a dangerously handsome stranger. What she didn’t know was that the man she mistook for a gigolo was Axel Reynolds, a ruthless billionaire with a taste for control. Olivia tried to move on and bury the memory of that reckless night… until fate delivered a cruel twist. Axel Reynolds wasn’t just anyone—he was her step sister’s soon-to-be husband. Now, trapped between guilt and desire, Olivia wants to hide the truth. But Axel has already found her, and the devil never lets go of what he claims.

The wolf inside me howls when the bond snaps into place. I’ve found my second-chance mate. Just a few days ago, the man I’ve loved my whole life gave me to our former enemy in exchange for his sister’s hand in marriage. After I risked my own life to save his, my first mate Alpha Raul traded me like a thing. My heart and mind are in chaos, and I feel like I’m losing my grip on reality. The only thing I’m absolutely certain of is that I want more of the tenderness this stranger is offering me, to lose myself in him. His eyes widen, nostrils flaring, and I know he can smell my interest. I’m straddling his waist, and our bodies are pressed together. “You are mine,” he says quietly, and runs his thumb across my lower lip. My breathing is erratic, and I can feel the heat coiling in me, pulsing through me in delectable waves. This is crazy. I don’t even know his name and still, everywhere our skin touches I can feel the want crackling between us like electricity. I want this so badly, but it’s not who I am. I can’t use my savior to avenge myself on Raul and put a plaster on my shattered heart. “I’m sorry, I can’t. This isn’t right,” I offer an apology before getting off of him. But his hand snaps out and grabs my wrist, yanking me back onto him. “Tut-tut little wolf, there’s no running away from me. You’re mated to Alpha King Aiden now and I fully intend to keep you.”

“No one touches what is mine and gets to live,” he replies firmly, sending a cold shiver down my spine. “Alessandro, I am not yours. I am not anyone’s property,” I argue. He laughs softly. “Okay,” he says casually, as if what I said doesn't matter. “I mean it; I will never be yours—not your property, not your plaything, and certainly not your mistress,” I've already made it clear that I won't be his mistress; I don’t know why he can’t seem to accept that. His jaw tightens, then he scoffs. “He threatened you, he touched you,” he says, his eyes narrowing. “It really didn’t matter if the device was his or not; he knew what was coming for him.” In search of her missing father, Renée, a 24 year old boudoir photographer, moves to a new country and makes a deal with the FBI. She helps them bring down the most feared Mafia Don in the country, and they help her find her father. All she has to do is seduce him and get him to lower his guard—easy. Alessandro has been married for three years to the perfect wife, the princess of the East Mafia dome. That kind of marriage makes Alessandro the leader of both the South and the East of the Mafia dome and untouchable, Ruthless. Then one night at a masquerade ball, he meets her, the seductive stranger with a different accent. She looks like the typical type of woman he would make his mistress. But is that enough? Will his world accept a woman like her? It has been a rule for as long as he can remember that certain races can't mix, at least not from where he stands. Plus, he is a married man. Everything about her is forbidden.

“How long has this been going on?” Fatima’s voice is steady, almost too steady. Her husband of six years stands there without a hint of shame. “Does it matter, Fatima? Yes, Leslie is pregnant with my child, but nothing is going to change,” he says, annoyed that she dares question him. Her calmness makes him shift, though he refuses to show it. “How. Long?” She repeats slowly, keeping her voice low so she won’t wake their sleeping children. “Three years.” Fatima blinks. “You’ve been cheating on me for half our marriage… with your business partner?” “Lower your voice. Don’t make it sound bad. I’m a man – these things happen.” He even chuckles. “Leslie will be taken care of. You’ll stay the wife, and Leslie and I–” “Will get married,” she cuts in. He stares, thrown off, until she adds, “Top drawer in your office. Divorce papers. Sign them first thing tomorrow.” No tears. No raised voice. No trembling. Just calm finality, and that unsettles him more than anger ever could. “I’m not letting that happen. You’re my wife.” “Ex-wife,” she corrects softly. Before he can react, Fatima pushes her chair back and stands. She doesn’t storm off or slam anything. She simply picks up a magazine from the table and walks out with quiet, controlled steps, far too composed for a woman ending a six-year marriage. And that hits him harder than any shouting would have. No tears. No pleading. No hesitation. Nothing. It wounds his pride. He deserves tears. “Hold on,” he snaps, rising quickly from his seat.

Warning- Mature Audiences only!. -Strong sexual content. - rated language. Original work. Description: "Get up!." He commanded. His voice was stern and his cold blue eyes pierced into my skin. I didn't look fazed by his intimidating demeanor. "You muckerfucker blood-sucking demon." I cussed, biting down my lower lip to hinder myself from not raining more curses at him. He smirked. He glided across the room until he stood in front of me, I looked right into his eyes as he lowered down to my level. His hand gripped my chin up, his blue eyes looking deep into mine. "You won't end well if you continue to speak to me like that," I smirked. "I am not afraid of you!" He smiled but it didn't reach his eyes. "And you're afraid of death, I am death." My jaw dropped. He knows where to get me. He let go of me seeing my frightened look and looking satisfied. "But you didn't have to kill that girl for my sake. She did nothing." "Someone's going to cover up for you." He turned around and went to sit on my bed. "But I didn't kill him. There was nothing to cover up for." "Oh, dear." He said and lit his joint up. "He died." I froze. I killed someone too. I've stained my hands with blood. "Don't look too surprised and all that stunned. That's one thing you'll learn how to do and face. You've got to learn how to kill." *** Vanora Campbell's mom died leaving her with her uncaring father, she blamed her father for killing her mother and lived so carelessly thereafter. Her life turned upside down when her dad sold her to the Italian mafia boss, Zavi Covillie.

His sharp intake of breath hit her, gaze dragging over her breast to her mound. Every part of her body his dark, hungry gaze touched, burned. His voice was deeper than any she'd ever heard. “On the couch.” She obeyed. She made her way to the couch and sank into the plush cushions. “Spread your legs.” She hesitated, biting down on her lower lip. A frustrated groan left Jason's lips and Anna jumped at the sound. Before she could blink, she was pushed back on the couch, Jason's lips over hers. His hands grazed her nipples, and he shoved her thighs apart, settling between them. He took her breast into his mouth sucking until sparks shot to her core. "Jason—" she gasped, desperate. ******** Anna was supposed to be enjoying her sister’s wedding after-party, not stuck in a locked car with the groom’s infuriating older brother. Jason Knight—best man, shameless flirt—had been under her skin since they met for rehearsals, and now, in her space. He wasn’t supposed to make her skin heat with one touch. And she wasn’t supposed to end the night tangled in bed with him. One night. That’s all it was meant to be. But what Anna doesn't know: Jason isn’t just her brother-in-law’s maddeningly smug brother, he’s the boy she once humiliated in high school—the one who never forgot, and he’s spent every one of the years after changing everything about himself. Now, he's back with a grudge, a memory that cuts deep, and a plan. Twenty-one days. One dangerous game. Anna is about to learn that some grudges don’t fade, they smolder and ignite. When old wounds collide with white-hot chemistry, will revenge blur into something even more dangerous? or will it be their ruin?

On campus, he was the most well-behaved student in the entire department. Oversized hoodies, black-rimmed glasses, quiet enough to fade into the background. Even when facing the notoriously strict Professor Elliott, he would only lower his head, clutch his books, and murmur a timid, “Professor.” At night, he became the most intoxicating dancer in the club. He wrapped himself around the pole, bent low, rolled his hips—each movement driving the men below into a frenzy. Bills were stuffed into the strap around his thigh as they shouted his name. To cover his obscene tuition fees, he took a private party offering an equally obscene payout. Inside the VIP room, he straddled the pole, bathed in dim, hazy light, fingers reaching for the final restraint he was meant to undo. Suddenly, the man lounging on the sofa stubbed out his cigar and stood. The light swept across his face— It was Elliott. The very man he feared most by day. He walked onto the stage step by step, then slammed him hard against the pole in full view of everyone. “Can’t even breathe in front of me during the day,” Elliott sneered, “but at night you’re here shaking your ass, begging men to f*k you?” His mentor wrenched his arms behind his back. Hot lips brushed his trembling earlobe, his voice low and dangerous. “Noah,” he murmured, “if you’re that desperate for money… why didn’t you just come to me? How much—per night?” He panicked and tried to struggle, but Elliott forced his legs apart with his knee, pinning him against the cold metal. “Don’t hide,” Elliott said softly. “Now. Take off the rest—right in front of me. And if you perform well…” A pause, deliberate. “I’ll pay you ten times tonight’s fee

After I became pregnant, my figure changed, and my face grew puffy. My fiancé began to treat me with a subtle, almost imperceptible sense of disdain. When the baby was five months along, it happened to be Valentine's Day. That day, he finally agreed to take our wedding photos, something I'd been hoping for. But just as we arrived at the bridal studio, his phone rang. "Mike, I just got back to the country. My friends are hosting a gathering, and everyone's bringing their boyfriends. Could you come and pretend to be mine?" It was a few short sentences, yet it completely altered the expression on his face. He turned abruptly, stepping out of the studio with a look of urgency. "Lucy's back. I have to go see her," he said. Hearing those words, a fire of rage ignited inside me, one I couldn't suppress. "For her? You're going to leave me here alone?" I demanded. "Do you even know how long I've been looking forward to today? It's Valentine's Day, and instead of staying with me, you're going to be with her?" His impatience flared visibly as I stood my ground. Without a word, his hand pushed me aside, and he strode out of the shop. "We can take wedding photos any day. I'm the only one Lucy has in this country. I have to go see her," he said. Then, gripping my wrist with alarming force, he shoved me, sending me sprawling to the floor. Without a backward glance, he got into his car and drove off. I felt a sudden, wet heat flowing from my lower abdomen. Pain surged through my stomach, sharp and unbearable, as my consciousness started to fade. A wave of despair and terror consumed me. Someone. Anyone. Please save my baby.

“Kiss me.” The words tumbled out and Lex stepped back instantly. He turned away from her and Isis felt her pride being butchered. “Isis, I-” His voice travelled through the room. It was laced with uncertainty. His back was still to her. "I am sorry. I shouldn’t have asked. I-uh. Good bye, Mr. Greyson.” Isis replied as she slid off the desk. She needed to leave, before her embarrassment killed her. Isis grabbed her bag and stalked off towards the door. A grip like iron encased her shoulder and she was spun around to face Mr. Greyson, he pushed her against the door and dropped her bag onto the floor. He pinned her body with his, a hand around her waist bringing her body against his and his other hand cupping her face. He ran his thumb along her lower lips and took satisfaction in her shuddering. He drew her hands up and anchored them above her head, pinning them to the door. His mouth slowly covered hers and moved teasingly. Isis gasped at the skillful movement of his lips against hers. He possessed her fully, slipping his tongue into her mouth. He tasted her, devoured her and nothing was sweeter for Lex. He fought to control his natural instincts firing to life and focused on giving her this but he was certain he would gain the most pain from it. He knew he would never forget this kiss, never meet its equal. He pulled away from her, their breath labored. He rested his forehead against hers and committed the moment to memory. He leaned off her, let her hands drop to her sides, he handed Isis her bag. "Good bye, Ms. Davenport.” He replied with some pain as he turned the door knob and allowed her to leave.

“How do you like your cock sucked?” He throws his head back and laughs. My brows furrow. Then his gaze drops to mine again. “You’re cute. But not tonight, Chan.” “But—” “Another time.” Before I can respond, he scoops me up like I am his newlywed bride, arms under my knees and back, and carries me to the bed. He slowly lowers me onto the mattress. His hand slides to the nape of my neck, fingers working into my hair, and he pulls me into a deep, claiming kiss. I close my eyes and melt into it, arms curling around his neck. A moan escapes me when his mouth leaves mine and closes over one nipple. The wet suction sends a jolt straight between my legs. His hand drifts lower, fingers finding my clit and rubbing slowly. The pleasure becomes tight. More moans spill out before I can stop them. I bite my lip hard, trying to stay quiet. My family is downstairs eating dinner. If they hear—if anyone hears—they’ll kill me. He switches to the other breast, sucking harder while his fingers keep working me. ~~~ Chancé has been in love with River Dawson for four years. The charismatic hockey captain is everything she should avoid—magnetic, reckless, and dangerously irresistible. River doesn’t believe in relationships. He doesn’t do love. And according to his twin sister Cortney—Chancé’s best friend—he definitely isn’t someone Chancé should ever get involved with. But when Chancé saves River during a near-drowning accident, the boy she’s secretly loved finally notices her. What begins as a stolen moment quickly becomes a secret, intoxicating affair built on strict rules: no love, no labels, no drama—and absolutely no one can find out. Especially not Cortney.