Name Of 5 Fingers

From Honest Trailers: Follow the girl with Stockholm Syndrome, Marina, the idiot who has a mate, but ends up falling in love with her captor instead. Because bad boys are sexy. 7/5 Would write again.

"You keep pretending you don’t remember me,” he said quietly. I didn’t turn around. “You’re my stepson now.” A sharp laugh. “That’s not what you called me when your fingers were in my hair.” My breath shook. “That night meant nothing.” Then he leaned in, his breath brushing my cheek. “I shouldn't want you, you are married to my father, and somehow,” he murmured, “you're still the woman I can’t stop thinking about.” Camilla Moretti discovered the betrayal the worst way possible—secrets unraveled, lies laid bare. Her boyfriend had been sleeping with her best friend. She was pregnant. Broken and numb, Camilla vanished into the night and into the arms of a stranger whose name she never asked for, whose touch felt like an escape. By morning, her fate was sealed. She was married off to a powerful man nearly three times her age. Then the stranger walked into her new home as her stepson. With both of them jumping into conclusions they clash as enemies and they fought each other as fiercely as they wanted each other. Hatred became obsession, and obsession became a forbidden affair that would start a war neither of them could stop

Sara's legs straddling Austin's lap, their lips clashed in a fierce, passionate kiss. The sound of their lips meeting was like a spark, igniting a flame that threatened to consume them. "Mmm," Sara murmured, her lips vibrating against Austin's. "I hate you," Austin growled, his hands grasping her hips, pulling her closer. His fingers dug into her skin, sending shivers down her spine. Sara's hands were just as busy, her fingers tracing the lines of Austin's face, her thumbs brushing against his lips. "I hate you too," she whispered, her voice barely audible over the sound of their kissing. Their lips parted for a moment, and Austin's tongue darted out, tracing the curve of Sara's lower lip. She moaned, her hands tangling in his hair, pulling him closer. Sara's hands began to roam, her fingers tracing the contours of Austin's chest. She reached for the hem of his shirt, pulling it up and over his head. As she exposed his chest, Austin's eyes locked onto hers, a warning flashing in their depths. "You'll hate me tomorrow," he said, his voice low and rough. Sara's eyes flashed with defiance, her hands continuing to explore Austin's chest. "We don't like each other anyway," she said, her voice husky with desire.

I was born 5 minutes after my brother Ciranda marking the beginning of my misery. My Parents only wanted one son, instead, she got two, not two sons but a daughter, a weakling as what they always describe me to be. My twin brother Ciranda was the prince to my mother and I was what she called the Seranda. That is my name "Seranda". Seranda Copper with no title as princess or prince like my brother who was called crown prince Ciranda Copper. My parents treated me the same as the servants, they would always say “You are just like them, so why not treat you like them?” My brother had sunny golden hair, golden tan skin, bright green eyes, and a body to die for, he was the dream guy of every girl. He had the perfect body, he was the perfect child. I on the other hand had dark brown hair, dark brown eyes, pale skin, and a body not so much to die for, I looked nothing like the misses of wealthy and prestigious families like my own. I was more like the maid starved for weeks by her cruel master. What is worst than being auctioned by your brother as a whore to the human mafia and losing your purity to him. Vengeance is all I want.

Ever since birth, life has not been fair to Hazel, she met Andrea in college, and it was quite the wind whirl romance; her past came knocking with ugly fingers, and they had to part ways; Hazel left Andrea with a broken heart and a secret of her own.

"Why can't I have both of you at the same time!" I shot, glaring at him. I tried to be softer with him, but he made it harder. He froze for a second, searching my face before taking my hand and stroking his thumb gently on the back. "Not so fast, pussy cat," he whispered in my ear, his free hand on my neck, pinning me head against his shoulder. "I need your cunt to get used to me to the point that you cannot satisfy yourself no matter how much you touch yourself. Only we would be able to make you cum from now on, whether you like it or not. Your cunt will only obey us because it belongs to us like all of you. Every time you need to cum, you'd have to come to us. You'd have to depend on us, giving your freedom of cumming only to us," he told me, working his fingers and hand faster. I was drenched with my wetness, and my walls were begging his fingers to let them clench, but no, he continued. TRIGGER WARNING: This is a dark romance story, so keep your fingers ready. Keep the lights low. Get your mind energized, and Baby? Let me know if you get caught up in this story. This book is rated 18+.

Every Christmas Eve in Port Saint Giovanni, the Camerlano family hosts the Claiming Rite at Saint Giovanni Manor. Twelve girls stand in a line. Whoever receives the white-gold signet pin becomes the heir’s publicly acknowledged bride candidate. I am Grace Sorrento, the bastard daughter of the Sorrento family. If I do not receive that signet tonight, by sunrise I will be put on a plane to Chicago and married off to a Rizzo, a man rumored to have killed two former fiancées. Adrian Camerlano, the boy I grew up with, swore to me in blood three days ago that the signet would be mine. But when the moment came, his hand turned. With a smile, he pinned it on Lucia, the orphan his family had sponsored. Then he leaned close to my ear. "Let Lucia have her moment. No one has ever really looked at her before. Don’t worry. This is my estate. No one will dare arrange your marriage without my say." I grabbed his sleeve, but he removed my fingers one by one. "Lucia has no roots and no last name. Tonight is all she has. But you are a Sorrento. Even without the signet, no one will touch you." That phrase, no last name, drew every gaze in the ballroom toward me, full of pity and quiet mockery. The next morning, I boarded a flight to Chicago. When Adrian heard, he made one call to Port Saint Giovanni Air Control. "Ground every plane. Nothing leaves today!"

Get those wet fingers ready as you dive into forbidden Fairytales (An Erotica Series) curated to get your panties wetter. WARNING! 18+ They will be whipping, spitting, taboo, foreplay, breath play, anal, blood play, Dom and sub.

When I received two distinct fingers in a small box with no return label in my P.O box, revenge was my only source of finality, as my own life was on a time limit. Cracking down on the killers was my only thought, even if it was, my last.

“What do you think people would say if they found out you don’t have a dick?” Christian asked, his voice low and dripping with seduction. His hand pressed firmly against my crotch, fingers exploring the flat, unfamiliar emptiness there. A devilish smirk curved his lips. “Or if they discovered these voluptuous breasts you’ve been hiding so well?” A strangled moan slipped from my throat as his hand slid under my shirt, his fingers brushing over my hardened nipples, teasing them with slow, deliberate strokes. “Which do you think they’d call you?” he murmured, eyes gleaming. “A boy with tits… or a dickless little fraud?” I stared into his hungry blue eyes, words failing me. “The term you’re looking for is ‘girl,’” came Xavier’s smooth voice from the bathroom doorway. He stepped inside, closing the door behind him with a soft click, his gaze raking over me with open interest. “So tell me, little girl… what the hell is someone like you doing in an all-boys dorm?” Christian’s smirk widened. “She wants to be devoured by boys like us.” His fingers gave my nipple one last firm pinch before he leaned in closer, breath hot against my ear. “And I’m more than happy to give her a taste.”