Mha Mouths

The room pulsed with heat as their bodies tangled in a mess of sheets and grudges, with their mouths meeting like clashing swords. “You kiss like you're trying to win,” she hissed against his lips as her nails dug into his shoulders. “Always turning intimacy into a competition.” He let out a low and cruel laugh, his hot breath grazing her neck. “Better than your usual performance. All drama, no delivery. You moan like you're auditioning for a role you'll never land.” She pushed him down on the bed and her blazing eyes locked on his. He grunted as her naked body pressed against his nudity. “Says the man who thinks grunting is seductive. You sound like a dying engine,” she whispered in his ear with a smirk. The corner of his lips slowly lifted. She gasped when his hands travelled down her hips and reached her ass. “And yet you keep coming back for the ride.” ***** When Alessandro Montrego demands a bride to settle a long-standing debt, the plan is simple: get married to the docile and sweet twin sister. But before the wedding, she vanishes into thin air. To fill the position, Sierra, a fiery and sharp-tongued twin, is forced to take her place. Sierra and Alessandro clash like fire and ice as they thrust into a world of power, secrets, and simmering tension. However, beneath the bickering lies a slow-burning passion that neither of them expected. The blade of fate sharpens as love blossoms in the shadow of duty. Loyalty is put to the test, secrets are revealed, and love may cost more than either of them can bear. Because in a world built on debts and deals, not every love story is meant to end happily ever after. Will their fate be changed?

I wheel myself into the birthday celebration that Wales Price has thrown for me. The atmosphere is originally lively, but a brief silence descends when everyone sees me. The guests are there for different purposes, but celebrating my birthday is not one of them. "Is that Mr. Price's crippled fiancée, Joey Hertza?" "Yeah, but the one he really loves is Anna Giovanni. I saw them kissing in a corner earlier." They use their wine glasses to block their mouths as they speak loudly. They think I'm still the crippled deaf I used to be. They don't know that I regained my hearing last week. I can hear every mocking comment they make. Meanwhile, Wales stands there and allows it to happen. He doesn't stop the guests from talking about me. He seems to have forgotten that I only ended up like this while protecting him. I shoved him away when the accident happened and got trapped underneath the car myself. When I was rescued, Wales swore to stay with me and care for me for life. It's only been three short years since then, but he's already changed. I receive a message on my phone. "Ms. Hertza, the lifelike corpse that you've ordered is now complete. Reply to this message with your confirmation, and your death-faking service will be immediately effective. We will send the corpse to your and Mr. Price's wedding in five days." I don't even hesitate as I reply with my confirmation. Enjoy your wedding, Wales.

“Say it like you mean it, darling,” he purred, leaning in and licking my neck, “and I might stop.” * My mother got remarried… and cursed me in the process. I thought moving into this mansion would be the worst part of it. I was wrong. Because living here means living under the same roof with them. The Varkas brothers. Beautiful. Dangerous. Possessive. And absolutely, devastatingly off-limits. They call me “stepsister.” But the way they look at me? The way they touch me? It’s anything but brotherly. There’s something wrong with them. Something not… human. I can feel it in the way their eyes flash when they’re angry. In the way their bodies burn hotter than they should. In the way they move, like predators in the dark. I don’t know what they are. But I know one thing… whatever’s hunting me now, I won’t survive it. Not if I keep letting them close. Not if I keep letting them ruin me with their hands, their mouths, their filthy words. I should run. I should fight. But the truth is… part of me doesn’t want to escape. Because whatever they are… I crave it. And once they claim me, there’s no coming back. One more thing… All three of them touch me, all three of them make me feel things, but there’s one in particular… One… * AUTHOR’S NOTE: A fair warning before you open this book; this isn't a sweet romance kind of book. It’s dark, filled with sensual fantasies, fleshing longings, erotic musings, and lots, and lots of smut. So if this is your kind of vibe, “Welcome, princess and make sure you wear your seat belt.” But if this is not, then…

A tale as old as time… *** He ran a finger along her burning cheek, his eyes on her lips as he watched them part. "If you're found like this with me, there'll be no discussion about it. You'll definitely be stuck with me then. Are you really, really sure, princess?" *** Two brothers, vying for the attention of the same woman… *** "I do see you Zoey, whether you're at an art class or just wandering around taking in the sights. I see everything you do. That's the problem." He rounded the corner and bent down on one knee, pulling the robe over her shoulders. "Lately, all I see is you." *** Can one heart truly belong to two men? *** She's engaged. So is he. And according to the headlines, so are the mouths of their betrotheds. How far will James Beaumont go for revenge? Lady Zoey is the daughter of Duke Arden, only she's never met the man. So what right does he have to marry her off to some pompous, playboy prince? Prince Aaron Condor is in love with Lady Emily Maine. But when King Henry and Duke Arden decide to mend fences, Aaron ends up engaged to newcomer Zoey. Duke James Beaumont returns to Caines to propose to his childhood sweetheart, Emily Maine. 3 months later, Aaron and Emily are caught in a compromising liplock. Zoey wants to be told to give her fiance a second chance. When the jilted lovers meet on the streets of Caines and he proposes to Zoey. Reluctantly, she meets with James again and ends up married to him. It was all a drunken mistake, but that doesn't make The King's Guard hunting them any less real.

The rogues cornered you, their scent tempted you. The first of them shifted back to his human form, with a ripped, muscled body. You follow his lead and shifted back into your human form, offering them your beautiful body on a silver platter, ready to be devoured, no longer having the will to fight the heat.He walked over to you and hungrily pulled your body against his. His erection pressed against your skin. The rest of the rogues shifted into their human form, one looking better than the other. You wanted them all. Their hands and mouths were all over your naked body, licking, touching, grabbing. With one of their faces between your legs, you caught a delicious scent. 'My fated mate is among them,' you thought and opened your eyes.Your eyes met a rogue who was still in his wolf form. He must have just joined. 'MATE,' you felt it rip through your soul as your eyes met his wolf's eyes. He growled and the one light in the dark alley flickered before it popped. The men who were devouring your body let you go as if your skin were burning them. They shifted back to their wolf forms, their heads low, before running away, leaving you alone with the rogue that had just scared them off, your fated mate.‘I am fated to a rogue?’ you asked, unable to speak. Your body needed him to take you as if the other men prepared you just for him.He changed into his human form, but you couldn't really see his face because it was too dark. The moment his body touched yours, you knew no matter what, there would be no parting from him.“Mine,” his husky voice said in your ear...

“I trusted you!” Zachary yelled angrily his hands curled into fists at the revelation that he just got. "Is this is how you repay me?!” “I never told you to trust me." “Do you honestly think that I will let you get away with this?" Zach looked at the woman furiously. “Well, you’ll be disappointed." He took long steps towards her threateningly and held both hands, pushing her towards the wall hardly. “Do you think I'll let you get away from this?” Alex looked at him hardly, their faces close to each other, mouths almost touching. “Because I won’t.” Zach then pressed his mouth on hers in a hard and hungry kiss, giving in to the demands of his body that's been eating him for a while. Zachary Montgomery, 36, is a hard-working FBI agent, who works in counterterrorism, instead with the big law firm that his family had for generations. He is a man with goals and conviction. Alexandra Walters is a 27-year-old diner co-owner with her aunt and her wheelchair-bound younger sister. She turned her back on the thrilling and fast-paced life she once had. When Alexandra met Zachary over an incident that she believes has something to do with the case she abandoned, she forced her way in, despite his resistance and persistence in pushing her away and keeping her away from the case. Covering up their attraction towards each other, Zachary will do anything to keep her away for her safety while Alexandra made a vow to herself that she will get the information she needs to finally close the case that has been haunting her. Even if it means, seducing Zachary Montgomery to her bed.

Tristan Hayes' life took a sharp turn, one moment he was on the cusp of his dream then suddenly found himself drowning. Trauma surgeon residency was brutal enough; losing his scholarship was a knockout blow. Desperate, he swallowed his pride and became "Titan" at Club Inferno. Six months, and he was their star, his body a commodity. Tonight was his last dance – he was booked for a bachelorette party for a bride-to-be linked to the Mafia family. He remembered the haze of perfume, the clamor, the hands pulling him closer and the willing mouths tasting him. He remembered the bride, her eyes wide, her laughter turning into moans and gasps. He entertained the women, the night ending with the bride's face covered in his thick sticky seed. After this night, he wanted to close this chapter of his life. He wanted to forget it all. He should have. Tristan awoke in a cold, unfamiliar room, the fear paralyzing. Now, bound and gagged in a concrete cell, the memory was a burning brand. He learned why they called Giovanni Sokolov "The Siberian Winter." Giovanni, a face carved from granite, stood before him. "My bride," Giovanni’s voice was a low growl, "You entertained my fiancée, She died a week ago, trying to run away with a man. Your seed was the catalyst. You helped her betray me." Giovanni leaned closer, his eyes devoid of warmth. "She was running away, Dr. Hayes. You helped her crave forbidden fruit. You opened the door to betrayal." He smiled, a cruel, predatory expression. "Now, you will pay the price of her betrayal. You will take her place... as my companion in bed... my slave and my plaything. Don't worry I'll make you'll enjoy every second of it."

In his bid for perpetual life, the first Don of the Bryant family annihilates the witch clan and violently takes possession of their most sacred relic. In the moments before her death, the head of the witch clan places a curse on every descendant of the Bryant family. Every descendant will suffer a sudden mutation at the age of 23, where their bodies would be covered in thick, black hair, and fangs would sprout from their mouths, turning them into monsters. They can only lift the curse if they marry a descendant of the witches. Ella Crawford—my sister—and I are the last remaining descendants of the witch clan in the human realm. In my past life, Oliver's lottery selection fell on the attractive Ella. I was aware that Ella lacked the power to lift the curse, so I secretly swapped the lots, and Oliver ended up married to me. In the end, during our wedding night, Ella set herself alight, proclaiming that she had lost her eternal love and didn't want to face life without him. As a result, Mom and Dad drove me out. Oliver, however, took me in and showered me with affection. It wasn't long before I conceived his child, and he successfully survived his 23rd birthday. Yet, barely a day later, Oliver pushed me into the fire pit. I pleaded with tears streaming down my face, "I freed you from the curse and am currently carrying your baby, Oliver, so please don't treat me like this!" Oliver merely responded with a malicious grin as he tossed the torch aside. "If it weren't for your interference, Ella would have lifted the curse for me! I would have been able to spend the rest of my life with her, Cynthia!" In the end, I was completely consumed by the flames. I suddenly open my eyes and find myself returning to the day Oliver chooses his bride by lot. I immediately snap the tampered lot, as I'm eager to find out how Ella will save Oliver without any witch powers in this life.

I got a car straight from the Lycan Chairman himself—a ride costs more than tens of millions and can turn every traffic light green. I got it because the Lycan Chairman once fell on the battlefield, his heart torn open. And me? I'm the one bound to him by a blood-sealed contract, the only secret healer who could save his life. To win me golden hour for surgeries, I was awarded with such an honored ride. I treated it like sacred ground, kept it hidden in my mate Yorick's underground garage, polished and guarded, ready for the day the Lycan Chairman might need me again. That day came. The summons burned in my hand, urgent and sharp. I rushed to the garage, ready to drive, and the second I approached the garage, a strange woman slid into the back seat. "Take me to the Nighty Bar," she ordered, flipping her hair. "Yorick had waited for me minutes. If he's mad at me being late, I'll make you regret it." My hands froze on the wheel. "This is my car," I told her, calm but firm. "I have urgent business. You need to get out. Now." She sneered. "What a joke. A chauffeur pretending to be the owner? You must have a death wish." Her soldiers glanced at me sideways, voice dripping with disdain. "Everyone in the pack knows that this car is Alpha's exclusive for picking up Selene! You're just a little healer. Do yourself a favor and listen to her." Their words cut sharper than any blade. The car that carried the highest secret of the werewolf race, the car tied to the Chairman's very heartbeat, in their mouths, it was nothing more than a toy. A plaything my mate used to please another she-wolf. They wanted me to bow. To surrender. To sit there, silent, while they spat on me. But what they didn't know, the Lycan Chairman's soldiers were already on their way.

Three women. And maybe more... Three stories. And more... All soaked in desire that doesn't care about rules, vows, or shame. These aren't tales of love-they're confessions of raw, hungry need. Lust that makes your cünt throb, your cöck twitch, your breath catch. Pages moist with sweat, wet with cūm, dripping with sin. Fingers, lips, tongues, hands-everything presses, slides, and fūcks in ways that make your pulse race. You'll read about pūssies dripping, cöcks hard and throbbing, mouths gagging and sūcking, āss cheeks spread, tongues sliding inside folds, fingers plunging deep. Every page pulses with heat, with mōans you can feel, with bodies colliding and fücking without mercy. Inside, nothing is sacred. Nothing is safe. A married woman spreads wide for her forbidden lover. A professor trembles as her student takes her mouth. A stranger is bound and worshiped, every inch of her body devoured. And that's just the beginning. Every filthy craving, every desperate mōan, every secret you've never dared whisper-it's here. Women devour women. Men ravage men. Lovers cross every line they shouldn't. So go on. Pretend your fingers aren't twitching to turn the page. Pretend your thighs aren't already wet. Pretend your cöck isn't straining. But once you give in... once your eyes slide across the first word... you'll feel it- the slow, dirty pull between your thighs, the rush of want crawling through you, your body answering before your mind does. And from that moment- you don't just read it. You become it. Your püssy, your cöck, your jūices, your mōans, your filthy, trembling need-all mine to claim, to taste, to drive wild. So tell me-would you be mine? Would you dare turn these cūm-stained pages?