Monster Lust Novels & Stories

WARNING! Mature audience only! Do you crave getting soaked from merely scanning a book? A single page that was crafted to make you drench your panties with your juices. From clandestine heated bangs to an office vixen fingered beneath the desk, from being fucked over by the father-in-law who hungers endlessly for his daughter-in-law’s dripping pussy, to a MILF draining her step,-son’s seeds. Lustful Cravings packs every page with primal, dirty sexual collisions that leave your pussy utterly drenched. #MILF #Reverse Harem #Age Gap

“Hi, Santa, can you give me what I really desire?” “And what do you desire?” “Your dick in my mouth!” Santa smirked, “I don't think that'd be enough for you. Tell me everything you want and I’ll have it fulfilled.” Her eyes shone like she had been granted life. She moved closer to the handsome Santa, fell on her knees, looked up to him with her red face, then responded; “I want you to touch me. Caress my whole being, make my sexual fantasy come true. Kiss me, tie me, spank me, tell me the flirtiest words, and fuck me through the holidays until I smell of my “Lusty Holidays”.

⚠️ Warning: ️ EXTREME HEAT WARNING ️⚠️ This book contains raw, unfiltered erotica, dark romance, taboo kinks, brutal BDSM, GAY, LESBIAN, and every filthy, dripping desire your depraved mind begs for. Enter at your own risk and come undone. L U S T R O N O M I C A A savage constellation of stories where desire burns hotter than dying stars and bodies collide in wet, brutal, unstoppable gravity. Between the endless black void and the slick, throbbing pull of total surrender, lovers crash into each other—cocks buried deep, cunts soaked and clenching, mouths hungry for every forbidden taste of skin, sweat, and sin. Every story is a savage gravitational fuck between dominance and delirium, pain and ecstasy, control and the wet, shaking moment you finally break. It’s a reminder that the most dangerous thing isn’t the fall into darkness… it’s how fucking good it feels to burn alive, screaming, while you come harder than you ever thought possible.

On my birthday, my husband, Adrian Grant, suddenly showed up with my adoptive younger sister, Bella Reed, and her child, Tia Reed. When it was time to head out, he naturally arranged for Bella to sit in the front passenger seat. Then he turned to me and said calmly, "Tia gets carsick easily. The back seat is full of stuff. Since you're healthy, just take the bus." Our friends immediately chimed in, one after another, "You're the older sister. Taking care of your niece is only right." Four cars were heading out, yet not one seat was left for me, the supposed main character of the day. I sat on the bus, swallowing my grievance, and saw Adrian and Bella interacting ambiguously in the group chat. They were even talking about topics I knew nothing about. When I opened the newly sent video, nothing except leftovers remained on the table prepared for me. Adrian even treated the birthday cake I had carefully prepared as dessert, spoon-feeding it to Bella and her daughter. Someone finally couldn’t stand it anymore and asked whether this was appropriate. Adrian, who was carefully wiping Bella’s mouth, didn’t even look up. "We’re all family. Julia won’t be angry." At that point, our seven-year marriage came to its end.

Everyone knows the legend of the Minotaur. But that's all it is to them - a myth. And even then, the myth only tells the tale of a monster slain by a hero. Has anyone bothered to ask the supposed monster for his side of the story? Of course not. And I should know. I am that "monster." I am Asterion, The Minotaur, and the first of my kind. And this is my story. You can decide for yourself who the monster truly is.

When Eloise Garpin, my daughter, comes back from kindergarten, she tells me that her teacher, Karen Linsell, has given her class a weird assignment. Apparently, everyone is to record their mothers' menstrual week. But what makes things weirder is that whenever I'm on my period, John Garpin, my husband who's often busy with work, keeps offering to pick Eloise up from kindergarten. One day, I come across a post on a social media app. "What should I do? I've fallen in love with my student's rich father! Oh dear, I really like him so much! You have no idea that his taut and slim waist looks so seductive! Every time I see him, I can't help but moan!" Someone begins admonishing her out of fury the moment they see the post. "What the hell? Are you itching to become a mistress? You really are shameless! Goodness, you're so disgusting! I can't believe you call yourself a teacher!" Unexpectedly, the original poster doesn't care about the comment at all. She even posts a photo featuring the aftermath of her carnal fun with the man. "So what if I am? Anyway, we regularly sleep together every month whenever he picks his daughter up during his wife's period. This is so thrilling!" I'm stunned when I see the million-dollar custom watch strapped to the man's wrist in the photo. And today… happens to be the first day of my period.

My fiancé was drugged at a party and spent the night tangled up with Isabelle Parson, the housekeeper's daughter. Afterward, Isabelle turned up pregnant, and Adrian tore up our engagement right there at our engagement party. "Leah, Isabelle is carrying my child. I have to marry her. I know you still love me. After I marry Isabelle, you can keep being my lover." I agreed to break off the engagement on the spot, then turned around and married Gordon—the man I'd once refused in a family alliance. At my wedding, Adrian stood before the guests and mocked me with an icy smile. "So this is what you've sunk to without me—marrying a pauper on the verge of bankruptcy. I'm the richest man in Jeffolton City. All you have to do is beg, and I'll let you come back to me." I looked at him with a thin, distant smile. He still didn't know—whoever I marry would become the richest man in Jeffolton City.

On Christmas night, my husband, Finnick Carson, can't spend the holidays with me because he's on a business trip. In order to make it up to me, he's specifically ordered a Christmas feast from a fancy restaurant and has it delivered to our home. But when I open the box containing the feast, I'm shell-shocked by what I see. Not only an array of seafood—that I'm allergic to—is arranged in containers, but there's also a kid's meal set included in the feast. When the deliveryman sees the food, he apologizes to me and tells me that he's mixed up the two meals that Finnick has ordered. This leaves me feeling uneasy. Why would my husband order two meals? So, I decide to find my way to the delivery address that the other meal is meant for. Shockingly enough, I see Finnick standing in a villa's backyard while picking candies from a Christmas tree with a mother and a son. The little boy then rushes into his arms happily. "Daddy, I'd like an amusement park for my birthday gift this year!" Finnick pinches his cheek gently. "Okay. I'll give your mommy a set of jewelry, too." The woman cuddles with him happily. "You're so nice to us, honey!" Having recorded the entire scene quietly, I send it to my lawyer. "Help me expedite my divorce so that my husband can reunite with his family as soon as possible."

On the day of my prenatal checkup, my husband's childhood sweetheart, Maya Crane, volunteered to drive me to the hospital herself. Halfway there, she suddenly let out a cold laugh. "Lara Quinn. You don't deserve Mason Sterling. "You don't deserve to carry his baby." My heart dropped. I clutched my stomach and tried to jump out of the car. However, before I could move, she jerked the steering wheel–sending my side of the car straight toward an oncoming truck. The truck swerved at the last second. Her side slammed into the guardrail. Maya was dead at the scene. I was hemorrhaging, and the baby almost came too early. In her last breath, dying in the wreck, she sent Mason a message. [Mason… Lara did this to me on purpose…] The police investigated for half a month and ruled me innocent. Mason grieved, but he stayed by my side, caring for me with obsessive tenderness while I recovered. The day I was discharged, he took me to the seaside. Then he shoved me into the ocean. His voice was cold and merciless. "Don't think destroying the evidence means you're safe. You caused her death. Pay for it with your life." The sea filled my lungs. And when I opened my eyes again–I was back to the day of my prenatal checkup.

My sister and I were caught up in a severe car accident during a family road trip down the mountain for the New Year. Shattered glass pierced straight through my heart. Amid the excruciating pain, my fiance and family insisted the rescue team take my sister, who only had a scratched arm, to the hospital first. As I cried out for them to save me, my fiance snapped at me. “Carol, you should know when to stop vying for attention! “Delila is bleeding so much. Why must you compete with her?” Dad shook his head and sighed while Mom looked at me with disgust. I forced my stiff neck to look over. They were all surrounding my younger sister. She only sported a faint red mark on her arm. No one saw the blood gushing from my chest. No one heard my fading heartbeat. I died during that snowy, bitterly frigid night. When they finally remembered me and came across my cold body, my fiance and family went mad.