Men From Hell Novels & Stories

Barbara yelled and swung her arms around frantically. The man raised his hand, slapped her twice, and cursed, “You f*cking b*tch! Do you want to end up like him?” Two to three men stepped forward and pressed her against the floor, and Barbara was trapped under them, crying in despair. The veins on the back of Helios’ clenched fist bulged, and he exhausted all his remaining strength to break free of his captors and rush toward those three men.

The Man From Hell finally appeared near Belle. He was standing right next to her body, intently looking at her, while Dom looked at him as if saying “I’ll kill you if you do anything to her,” and, as if he knew, the Man looked up and smiled widely, showing all of his needle-like teeth. “Calm down a little, my dear, it is still good that we can see him. I tell you again, he is not what people think he is…” Onia reassured Dom, who took a seat and watched, compass still in hand.

“Stop complaining, you guys. We’re alive, and I believe there’s hope—even in hell. It may not seem real, but we’re fighters. Back in the dungeon, we were nothing but breeding dolls. Who would’ve thought we’d end up in a place like this—with a whole furnished room to stay in? I believe it’ll get better if we do our jobs well. Our duty is to keep her breathing and obey every command she gives. If we want to live, we must make sure she also lives. That’s our job.” Stacy nodded quietly. Minutes later, the maids heard the sound of the elevator opening. A woman stepped out, flanked by three intimidating-looking huge men. The maids immediately whispered among themselves. “Who is she?” Selena asked

Using a hand as a gun… and actually firing bullets? A Devil. Absolutely a Devil. "Lord, spare me!" "Take me to heaven!" "I offer you my soul!" They screamed hysterically. The women went even further—tearing open their clothes and throwing themselves onto the bedding, shouting, "Devil, take me! I'll bear your demon offspring and help you rule the world!" The middle‑aged man could no longer stand. He slumped to his knees, his eyes growing dim, then collapsed face‑first onto the ground.

the one who seems to be very fond of torturing me says. "Get her up," the rest of the guys look uncertain but it is clear he is the one calling the shots around here. They haul me up and tie my hands to the rusting sprinkle pipes. I close my eyes before I feel the blow to my gut. I cry out in pain which seems to amuse the little saddist. "I have tortured dangerous men and made them cried like little pussies. How long do you think it's going to take to get you to say what I want to hear?" he asks, walking away.

They were not like Nick's, although they did have people in them, this time they were drawings of two men, you couldn't see the faces of the people at all just one blonde and one dark. The dark-haired man was on top of the other one, and they were quite obviously having sex. The drawings were exquisite, showing the tense muscles in the back and buttocks of the man. He had a fabulous figure, broad shoulders, narrow waist, and long legs. Amelia moved on to the next picture, in this one the dark man was sitting on a chair, and the other man had his face between his thighs, she drew a gasp, and then an even bigger gasp when she looked closely at the man on the chair.

Jax, usually so agile, was on his knees, blood already staining the front of his shirt, struggling against two men who looked like they’d been carved from granite. These weren’t just men; they were an army, dressed in worn leather and denim, their faces set in aggressive snarls, their bodies radiating a raw, untamed power. The scent of them hit me then, acrid and metallic, thick with the smell of spilled blood and something ancient, something that made my skin crawl. “Hellbound Saints,” Silas hissed beside me, a low growl rumbling in his chest. “Dammit.”

Clara paused for a moment before turning to Mason, her voice clear and cruel. "You like to play games, don't you, Mr. Sanders? You think it's fun to watch people struggle in cages, don't you?" Mason shuddered and shook his head frantically. "No, no! Rebecca made me do all of that! She forced me! I never wanted to!" "Hush." Clara raised a finger to her lips and cut him off. "Mr. White spent five years in the underground fighting ring. He broke seven ribs, lost four teeth, was injected with drugs, and was displayed like a zoo animal while people bet on him."

Twenty-five men. Twenty-five stories. One thing they all have in common is desire. Some men fall for the person they were never supposed to want. A forbidden crush on a straight boss. A brother's best friend who was always off-limits. A divorce lawyer who becomes far more than a professional. A bodyguard who gets dangerously close to his client. A fake boyfriend who doesn't stay fake for long. A retired adult-film star determined to leave his past behind, until someone recognizes the man he used to be. There are also rivals who can't stand each other, roommates who discover an attraction they never expected, supposedly straight married men whose lives are turned upside

"Me too. I'm also an insolent dog." "Much better," Rendall remarked with a cocky smile. "You might think that we're here to cause trouble but that's far from it," Helia began and Rendall nodded. "What we're here for," Helia continued, "is to find our friends. We want our friends. Your people have them." "I don't know who your friends are," the big, beefy man snapped. He trembled afterward as Rendall scowled at him. "What did you just say?" Rendall asked in a guttural and intimidating voice. He took out an ant from the container he was holding and swirled it before the man. "Anty is ever ready to play with you, remember."