Lyrics The Box Roddy Ricch

I'm Dominik, the dark side of an Archangel. I have no good in me. I have never loved a soul. Yet, here I am, falling for a Human girl with bright blue eyes. How? I want to get the fuck out of here. Ever since I was imprisoned here, my brother has been a thorn in my spine. I have continually schemed ways to escape. Not that I don't appreciate Hilda and everything she has done, my freedom has always been my priority. Tell me why I am so enamored with this little Human? The way she laughs. The way she admires me when she thinks I'm not looking. The pink flooding her cheeks. The problem is, The Keepers are looking for their amulet, and Master Rowen is looking for his pet… I didn't know which one was worse. I knew what I had to do to get us out, and It was going to hurt me more than it would hurt her. I even contemplated not doing it and just staying here, with her… But the Keepers couldn't be so kind as to leave her be. My plan was here, the time to execute was now, and I forced her to take us back with her. I didn't save her when she arrived, just to allow my fucking feelings to get in the way. Guilt flooded my chest when I manipulated her. It flooded my chest again when my brother shoved a flaming hot Angel blade right through her… What did I do? Oh, yea… I left her there to bleed out… And now that I've ruined any chance I ever could have had with the little Human… I'm going to open Pandora's Box and unleash hell onto this world. If I have to hurt, so does everyone else.

To ensure fairness, my daughter said that she would draw lots to choose whose family to spend the New Year’s with every year. However, for the past nine years, she had spent the New Year’s with her in-laws. The latest draw was no different. On New Year’s Eve, my daughter gave me specific instructions. “Mom, we’re spending the New Year’s with my in-laws. We’ve made a reservation at the most expensive restaurant in town. Please help me save some money. You can just make some food at home for your dinner.” Hence, on New Year’s Eve, I ate alone while watching TV at home. When I stood up, I accidentally knocked over the raffle box. All the lots inside the box had my daughter’s handwriting. The words ‘in-laws’ were clearly written on every single one of them. For the past ten years, the lots had been fake. My daughter was willingly spending the New Year’s celebration with her in-laws, and she had never once thought of spending it with me, her biological mother, who had spent so much money on her. At the same time, I got a notification on my phone. Her mother-in-law posted something on social media. [My daughter-in-law is so lovely. She bought me so many gifts and chose to spend the New Year’s with us. It’s as if she’s our own daughter!] They smiled brightly in the video. On the table were gifts that she bought using my retirement fund. I did not sleep for the whole night. The next morning, I called the bank. “Please remove all the auto-debit accounts from my retirement account.” From then on, I would only spend my money on myself.

A painter, artist, and an engineer single father named Mike living with his Mom Rose, He was been single father since Alice died in giving birth to Augustine, years later he worked as an engineer contracted three years of bridge project with his co-engineer Angel and they became close till years passed by where their project will end. Angel confesses in a letter to Mike that she likes him, and he was willing because he also likes Angel as their relationship went through, A test result came in that he has a liver cancer stage one only his Mother know this. He desired not to tell this to Angel instead he gave her a small box for the birthday with nine letters inside it but all is ten as he instructs every year on her birthday she will open one letter and if all nine will do, he will give the tenth letter which he designates the very important one. But eight years later Mike died in the eighth letter Angel had only one, The nine and it came to the point where she need to get the tenth letter but don't know. Instead she visits Mike grave as she there, un-expectedly a voice of a child calling her name as Angel turns around she saw a child amused walking to her holding the tenth letter she doesn't even know who's this child but the woman who followed back, is Mike's mother Rose as the child reach in front of her, He hand the tenth letter to her. Minutes of reading heavy tears appear and she knees down to the child and hugs him then Angel whispered "he's resting forever but no worries Augustine father is always okay promise I'm always here for you Son" And she heavily cried.

My wife, Alisha West, has always been obsessively frugal. After marrying her, my single guilty pleasure became blowing money on luxury watches—almost like revenge for how absurdly tightfisted she was. By the time our daughter, Elyse Day, turned 7, she had inherited every bit of her mother’s penny-pinching nature. The two of them looked completely out of place in our sprawling mansion. And I loved it. I’d slip into my latest custom-tailored suits and watch them wince at my credit card statements, their expressions twisted in quiet pain. Until one day, lines of floating text suddenly appeared before my eyes. [This spendthrift idiot is still shopping? Doesn’t he know his wife’s company is about to go bankrupt?] [She’s been drained dry supporting this parasite. Her T-shirt collar is practically worn out from washing. Good thing the financially savvy male lead is about to show up and save her.] [Can’t wait for Alisha to file for divorce and kick this useless freeloader out. Let’s see how he survives fighting stray dogs for scraps under a bridge.] I slammed the limited-edition Richard Mille watch onto the table. Alisha, who was crouched on the floor breaking down delivery boxes for recycling, and Elyse, who was helping stomp them flat, both jumped in shock. A chill ran through me. I lunged forward, snatched the battered cardboard box from Elyse’s hands, and held it tightly against my chest. "No… no more buying. I’m returning this watch. "And these boxes… don’t sell them. I think we might need them someday… to lay out under a bridge when we’re sleeping outside…"

Ever since my mom gave birth to her second child, everything in the household is tied to drawing lots. Everyone has to draw lots in order to decide whose favorite food will be served for each meal. We have to draw lots to see who among us gets a hug from our parents. Every time, I end up drawing the short end of the stick, so everyone automatically assumes that my younger sister, Anabelle Madden, gets the better lot. She easily reaps my parents' love without having to do anything at all. Whenever I feel like crying because of the injustice, Mom will scold me instantly. "I bought the lottery box because I was worried that you might feel upset about this. I'm doing this just to be fair to both of you. "If you want something, you have to be the one deciding who gets what. Your father and I won't interfere with your decision at all. Since you can't draw the better lot, that just means you have bad luck." Hence, I keep practicing my lot-drawing skills every day, hoping that I can eventually draw the better lot in order to obtain my parents' love. But for ten years, I never get to draw the better lot. Not even once. On my birthday, Anabelle wants to go to the amusement park, so Mom tells us to draw lots once again. I secretly glue two short lots together before giving it to Mom in an attempt to get her to stay with me. Instead, she slaps me and berates me for being a disobedient child who cheats in lot-drawing. Then, she leaves the house with Anabelle. When I fall to the floor, I feel the short sticks piercing through my neck.

{SUPPORT = MOTIVATION = MORE UPDATES} Valery Hale ~ All I ever wanted was a comfortable life for me and my brother, Derek. With no parents, I had to work hard to put food on our table. Derek needs to go to school, and I need money for the never-ending bills. Just when life starts getting good, fate decides to throw in a box of scorpions. I can barely make ends meet every month, as if that isn’t hell enough. How am I supposed to make the CEO of a multibillion-dollar company fall in love with me? Did I mention he’s also an Alpha Lycan?   Nathaniel Kress ~ For generations, KressCo. has met the needs of The BloodFlame Pack. Being the next Alpha, I am to also take over as the CEO of the company, but my father won’t let me until I claim someone to replace my deceased Mate. I don’t believe in second-chance mates and even if I did, not Valery. Making her my secretary was me being merciful, but now I can’t seem to get her out of my head. If only I knew she wasn’t the innocent lamb she was so good at pretending to be... -- Jaden points the loaded gun at me. “You have three months to get the bastard to marry you. Succeed, and you’ll get your brother back in one piece. Fail.” My heart skips a beat at the click sound the gun makes in his hands. “Fail, and I’ll break every bone in his body, then feed him to my sharks.” He threatens with his hand outstretched to me. “It’s simple enough, so do we have a deal?” The Mafia Lord asks, his lips curving to form an evil grin. Like I have a choice. “Yes.” --

“Daddy, please don't stop..." I begged, aching for one more thick finger stretching my dripping pussy. ** There are two mistakes a girl should never make. One: comparing your daddy’s best friend’s cock to your boyfriend’s. Two: actually fucking him. I did something worse. Daddy told me to email my résumé to his best friend because I’d been jobless for months. Drunk and reckless at 2 a.m., I sent Troy Reynolds something else instead—high-definition nudes of me spreading my soaked pussy, my tits squeezed together, tongue out, and begging for his cum. I knew it was wrong. I’d wanted him since I was seventeen. But the universe handed me the match… and Troy lit the fire. He never forgets. Now he wants me. He wants me dripping with his cum, claimed, ruined, and marked with his name on every inch of my skin. He wants me crawling to him on my knees. He fucked me. Then he hired me—not as his intern, but as his personal slut. His eager whore. His favorite fucktoy and willing little plaything. And every time he buries himself deep inside me, he makes me moan the one word that seals my fate. “Daddy.” This is a box—a wicked little treasure chest overflowing with daddy kinks. K-I-N-K-S that twist and tease in the darkest corners of desire. Inside, you’ll find forbidden daddy taboo stories dripping with raw power and aching submission, where boundaries dissolve and hungry hands claim what’s theirs. This book is not suitable for all readers. It contains highly explicit scenes—100% raw sin and sex with zero plot to hide behind. Keep your tissues close… you’re going to need them. .

Before the contract was even signed, the client's representative casually said he was craving pancakes with maple syrup. I didn't hesitate. I texted my fiancé, Nigel Cross, and asked him to stand in line and grab some. He came back with the box, all proud of himself. The client took one bite, and within seconds, his face went red. Hives bloomed across his neck. He shot to his feet, furious, and called the whole deal off on the spot. Then he turned around and handed the million-dollar order to Olivia Field, the intern who had rushed to grab him allergy meds. Three months of grinding work were gone just like that. I stood there, my throat tight, trying not to fall apart. Nigel squeezed my shoulder, his voice soft as he said, "It was just bad luck. Don't beat yourself up." I nodded weakly, drained of energy. But the second I stepped away, I heard him laughing in the break room with his friend. "That guy's seriously allergic to mango. Good thing I added mango syrup to the pancakes. Olivia's about to score a huge year-end bonus. Enough for a down payment on her new apartment." His friend hesitated. "Melissa hasn't slept in a month over that deal. She was working while she was sick. She needed that money for her mom's surgery—" Nigel waved him off, already annoyed. "She has me. Isn't that enough? Olivia earned this." My hands curled into fists so tightly that my nails dug into my palms. Bad luck? Yeah, right. Nigel had planned every second of it. And now, he thought he could smooth it over by marrying me someday, toss me a few cheap words, and I would just swallow it. I was done with that disgusting man.

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.

I collapsed at work and rushed to the hospital. When I saw the pregnancy test results, my heart filled with joy. Finally, something to save our loveless marriage. But my billionaire husband Ethan didn't ask if I was okay. He yelled at me for missing work. I noticed a Tiffany box in his car and my hope returned. Maybe he does care. Maybe he bought me something special. That night, his stepsister Mara came home after years abroad. She walked into our dining room wearing the necklace from that box. The one I thought was mine. She smiled at me while touching the diamonds around her neck. Then she took my seat in his car. My project at work. My place at the dinner table. Even my bedroom felt like hers. When the elevator crashed and we both screamed for help, Ethan came running. He pulled her out first. He held her like she was his whole world. He left me bleeding on the floor, begging him to save our baby. I heard them talking through the hospital wall. Mara asked if he loved me. The silence that followed broke something inside me I can never fix. His grandfather kept them apart because they're stepsiblings. Now he's dead. Now she's back. And I'm just the wife standing in her way. I'm pregnant with his child, but I'm starting to realize the truth. I was never his first choice. I was never even his second. I was just someone to fill the space until she came home. The question is, will I stay and watch him choose her over and over again? Or will I finally choose myself?