Psych Fanfiction Romane & Geschichten

For eight years I was Ethan Black's right hand, his ride-or-die. Then I finally married him and became Mrs. Black. Three months into the marriage, I deliberately shredded one of his contemporary art pieces, a million dollars gone in a few clean strokes, all because his eyes had lingered a second too long on the new intern. Before Ethan could lose his temper, lines of text bloomed in the air in front of me, telling me I was nothing but the villainess in someone else's novel. [This woman's completely lost it. Does she really think Ethan married her out of love?] [He keeps his old buddy around as a human shield to protect his real love. Once she's served her purpose, he ships her off to a p

"You've been a bad girl. Now I'm gonna fuck every bit of that sass right out of this pretty throat." He fisted my hair and dragged the leaking head of his cock over my lips, smearing them glossy and wet. "Beg," he ordered. My voice shook with how badly I needed it. "Please, sir. Please let me suck your cock. I'll be good—I swear." "Too late for good, baby. You're going to choke on it." Without another warning he thrust forward, sliding deep in one smooth stroke until the fat head bumped the back of my throat. Zara's life takes an erotic turn when she attends a new Psych class and her professor is her mother's ex husband. Dominic Calloway. He is hot, older and completely

Seven years ago, my mafia husband, Sergio Wexler, had me committed to a psychiatric ward. On the day I was released, I changed my name, cut my hair short, and vanished like a ghost. Seven years later, we meet again at the grave of my brother, Luca Lorusso. The bouquet in his hand falls with a soft thud. Sergio clenches his fists tightly, barely holding back emotions that threaten to break through his usual calm. "Janella, why the short hair? I almost didn't recognize you. Where have you been all these years? After that fire at the psych ward, I pulled every string I had, but I never got any leads on you. I've been looking for you for seven years. I even thought you were… dead." When I