Pink Diamond Shattering

Rose Johnson Kapoor He called me a lioness. He taught me how to be one. But what he failed to understand was that I'm more than just the lioness—I'm a rose with thorns-who'll bring him to his knees. Ryan Johnson walked away, left without a second glance shattering my heart and left me bleeding. But I’m done waiting. Done crying for someone who easily discarded me. I’ve crossed oceans to claim what’s mine and make him suffer. He'd forced me to submit—to bend, to surrender. But this time, he’ll be kneeling and begging. What he doesn’t know, that I’m not just here to ruin him—I’m here to own him. To carve my name into his world the way he once carved himself into my soul. He'll feel every ounce of my wrath. And when I'm done, he'll beg to be mine. Yet, there's something I can't escape-a truth, I refuse to face. A question-For how long I'll be able to hold on to my hate-or-the secret I'm hiding. Especially when he shows the side of him that I'd never seen before. ____ Ryan Johnson I knew she’d come. My lioness never accepts defeat. I thought leaving was right, but all I did was destroy the only thing that mattered. Now, she’s here. And she wants war. She wants me to suffer, to pay. What she doesn’t realize is, I already have. I’ve been on my knees for her since the day I walked away. But she won’t break me. If she wants a fight, I’ll give her one. Because I don’t just want her rage—I want all of her. Yet, as I pull her back into my world, something lurks in the shadows-A threat we've to fight.

“Shh, little girl,” he growled, teeth catching my bottom lip. I fought the moan, but he circled my clit, my hips jerked helplessly against his hand. Then he pushed my panties aside and sank two thick fingers inside me. I soaked his palm, knees buckling as tremors wracked me. “That’s it, cum for me,” he whispered against my ear. I did. Waves crashed through me while he held me up, stroking gently, murmuring filthy praise that made it sweeter, deeper, more shattering than anything I’d ever felt with a woman. I’m a lesbian. I’ve always known it, claimed it shamelessly. I’ve mapped women’s bodies with my mouth, hands, loving every touch and gasp. My best friend’s tongue between my legs has made me come countless times. The only man I tried, my ex, was awkward, unsatisfying. I swore off them forever. I love women. I love my best friend. So why does this man, her father, the one I should never want make me wetter with one stroke than she ever has? Why am I aching for his cock, pushed inside me, thrusting relentlessly, filling me, ruining me in ways no woman could? Why does bending over his desk for him feel like the right thing to do? One forbidden touch. One devastating truth: I might never want another woman again. When I rejected the vice chancellor's advances, my best friend's obsessive aunt, she threatened expulsion. My friend took me to her father, the college owner. One look at his body and I was lost. That night in their home, hiding in the kitchen while watching him cook, I touched myself, craving what is forbidden. Will my best friend discover my sudden addiction to her father? Will her aunt ever stop wanting me?

The housekeeper’s daughter, Selena Greene, deliberately chose to get married on the same day, at the same hotel as me. When our cars passed each other on the way to our weddings, she rolled down her window and asked to switch my bridal bouquet with hers. My bouquet, however, wasn’t just any bouquet. It was hand-carved from priceless jadeite by my grandfather himself—a one-of-a-kind heirloom and his blessing for my wedding day. “Trish,” she pleaded softly, “please. I’ve sacrificed so much for this wedding. I just want it to be perfect. I’ll give it back to you as soon as we get out of the cars.” My heart softened. Against my better judgment, I handed her my bouquet and took her cheap, plastic flowers instead. However, when we stepped out of our cars, she refused to return it. Worse still, during her ceremony, she tossed my jade bouquet onto the floor, shattering it into countless pieces. That bouquet had been my grandfather’s way of being present at my wedding. It was all I had left of him. Yet, in front of everyone, Selena put on an innocent act and accused me, “Who takes back a bouquet after a switch? A glass bouquet like this is all over online shopping platforms for ten bucks. I’ll just pay you back. Trish, you’ve made my life hard enough on normal days. Do you have to humiliate me on the most important day of my life, too?” Furious, I confronted her, but she ducked behind my fiancé and my brother, wiping at her eyes like the victim. My fiancé immediately went to comfort her, leaving me standing alone at the ceremony, humiliated and ridiculed by everyone. My brother, too, called me cruel and heartless. He cut me off financially and threw me out of the family home. Selena’s husband, having quickly risen to success with the help of powerful backers, unleashed his relentless revenge on the now penniless and alone me. In the dead of winter, hired thugs found me and brutalized me to death. And Selena? She became their princess, adored by all three of them. I sank into darkness, full of rage and regret. However, when I opened my eyes again, I was transported back to the day of the wedding.