Made Men Books Novels & Stories

It takes him a moment to read the room. All four of the guys are standing with one of my books in their hands. I know what each one is by glancing briefly at the covers. All of them are erotica, werewolf, and absolutely filthy. I have had to read most of them one handed and almost always fantasised about Phoenix and I as the main characters. “What the hell is going on? Why is Rose embarrassed?” Phoenix glares at his brothers as he steps in front of me. How did he know I’m embarrassed? He’s right, I’m absolutely mortified.

This was Dante Moretti, and after the stunt I pulled downstairs, there was a huge chance the boxes contained my worst nightmare. Regardless, I dragged them inside, making a mental note to take another shower to wash off the fine beads of perspiration coating my skin. Whispering a quick prayer to whoever cared to listen, I picked up my face blade and opened up the first box. My breath caught in my throat. Before me were rows and columns of carefully arranged books, most of the covers bearing sweaty, half-naked men and women in different stages of copulation, and the ones that didn’t had dark covers with obscure details that were covert yet somehow let you know exactly what the book was about.

My knees buckled, going totally weak, and I had to grab the door knob just to keep myself upright. I couldn't believe what I was looking at. I had been with guys before. I had seventeen boyfriends in my past, and out of all seventeen of them, none of them—I mean none of them—had ever possessed anything even close to what this man had hanging between his legs. It was massive. Big, heavy, hard, and throbbing, thick veins running along the length of it. It looked impossible. It looked like something built to ruin a woman completely. I stood there frozen, my mouth half-open, swallowing hard over a dry throat.

Manik smiles. The white Iru enveloping him vanishes. “Harasho is the most reasonable dogma. You can say that it projects the current life.” Manik reaches into his jacket pockets and draws their contents. There are two books on his hands. A pink book with a couple smiling at each other on a heart frame on the cover is on his right hand and a red book with a short hair woman crying on the cover is on his left hand. “Which Doujin do you like, Your Highness?” Manik asked.

She strapped his wrists and ankles in the straps, leaving him standing in an X position, his arms and legs slightly akimbo. Anna repeated same for all of them till they were all bound strongly to the thick, strong polished wood. “Come in you guys!” Anna called out and smirked at the bound men, with her arms crossed over her chest. In a few seconds, the door was pushed open and a number of naked men and women stepped into the room. Each man was good looking and had dicks that looked a good six inches now they were relaxed, not to imagine how they'd look if they were erect. The bound men stared in awe, their heads slightly hung in shame. The ladies were equally beautiful, with perfect curves,

’ W-what were these explicit books? Glaring at him, she couldn’t help but grumble, “…Just what kinds of books are you reading…?!” “…What? Making love is completely normal between married couples, and they’re great at keeping relationships together too. Just so you know, men tend to cheat on their expecting wives, not that I would ever do that. Anyway, just know that I’m reading all these for your sake.” …For her sake? Was he for real?!

I'd secretly wanted to for years but I never thought I was close enough to the type of guy he likes. Man, oh man! I couldn't even tell you how many men were inside me. Or how many I was inside of. Practically every one of them was addictive! Big, long, hard, rubbery, torpedo shaped, giant, thick, thin, you name it, everything a man could ever hope for was right there. In me, on me, against me, around me; there were slime covered bodies slipping and sliding - it was way better than ALL of my fantasies!

IMPORTANT WARNING: This is an MM (Male/Male) Gay Erotica story with extremely explicit and graphic sexual content. If you prefer MF stories and are uncomfortable with gay romance, please skip this book and move to Story 9 in my collection. 18+ ONLY. Liam’s hand still stung from the slap he’d delivered two days ago. The memory burned hotter than the summer night air clinging to his skin. That arrogant bastard at the gallery opening, tall, dark-haired, with a jaw like carved marble and eyes that screamed 'I own everything I touch' had grabbed him by the waist and kissed him like he had every right. No warning. Just lips crashing down, demanding, tasting of expensive whiskey and pure dominance.

Brielle's POV Didn’t they say old tools were usually rusted? Then why did this man fuck so good? I thought as Mr. Brooke drove roughly into my pussy, his cock pounding into me with brutal precision. His movements were relentless, hard enough to leave me breathless. Every thrust sent pleasure crashing through my body while his hands roamed over me possessively, gripping whatever part of me he could reach. I could barely hold myself together, my fingers twisting into the sheets as helpless sounds spilled from my lips.

’ I was now married to not just any man, but a Made man, a dangerously handsome man, a soon-to-be Bratva. It felt all too wrong, but I had to live with it. There was nothing I could do about it. “Thank you.” I returned her smile with the same enthusiasm. “Lead her to my room.” Vincenzo ordered and my head whipped in his direction. A Made man never cracks a joke and Vincenzo wouldn’t be the first. To ease the tension warming up in the form of a pool in my stomach, I had counted his earlier words as a joke.