Qq Vip Login

"Tell me your observations, Alpha Azriel," I asked, not daring to look into those eyes—I might drown in them, especially since my mind couldn't think of anything other than his length. I'm curious how it would feel to be taken by them all. Gosh, I've completely lost it—this is not me. He exhaled lazily. "She is the one getting pleasure, not us." My gaze shifted toward the others, and they nodded in agreement. It made sense; she had been the only one reacting. Then it hit me. Axel had reacted. I turned to him. “Axel, you’re already improving. That means you won't be participating in the treatment anymore," I said with a small smile. His brows tightened in irritation. “I’m not healed, Doctor… I still have difficulty getting my release.” I rolled my eyes. "Cut the crap, Axel. You reacted during the session—that’s a clear sign of improvement." He let out a soft chuckle “The reason I reacted…” his gaze locked on mine, “…was because I was imagining you in her place.” **** Alessia, a Luna and skilled doctor, is trapped in a humiliating marriage to her Alpha mate. Her life takes a turn when she’s assigned to treat a VIP patients with a sensitive condition—only to discover her patients are the ruthless triplet Alphas from a rival pack. Their vulgar behavior pushes her to her limits. When she tries to quit, they refuse, claiming she knows too much. Instead, they offer a deal: be their exclusive doctor for one month, and they’ll disappear from her life forever. Desperate, she agrees—unaware that she has just signed a deal that would destroy everything she knew as a virtuous wife. What dark secrets are the triplets truly hiding? what will become of Alessia when she uncovers them?

Belle catches her boyfriend cheating with her best friend on their one year anniversary. Feeling humiliated and heartbroken, Belle finds herself in a VIP club with the friends she was supposed to be on a double date with, trying to forget everything for one night until she meets him. James Wilder, a dangerously hot billionaire who seeks to claim her body and soul until he becomes her only obsession. Belle thought tonight was about losing her virginity to Sam, but she ends up having a wild steamy encounter with James. The man who turned out to be the CEO of the company she just started working at, her boss, and worst of all, her best friend Tania’s father. Belle believes fate is on her side. Hurt by their betrayal, she creates a revenge plan. Seduce James and become his lover to get back at Tania and make Sam jealous. But James Wilder’s rules don’t make things easy. He never dates his employees. He never falls in love. And most certainly, his daughter’s best friend is even more forbidden. Still, he can’t stay away. He makes Belle his personal trainee and she sees her chance to seduce him completely, turn his heart away from his spoiled daughter, and make him fall helplessly in love with her no matter the cost. But will she succeed in her revenge, or will Belle be the one who falls first? James’ dark past wasn’t part of her bargain, and soon she finds herself trapped in it with no way out. Will getting back at her best friend, who is ready to ruin the life of any woman who competes for her dad’s love, and hurting her ex go as planned, or will it drag Belle down too?

Years after graduation, someone suddenly tags me in the class group chat. "Mr. Warren is gravely ill, Mira. Aren't you going to do anything? You really are heartless!" I only realize what's going on when I click on the fundraising link in the chat. Our high school homeroom teacher, Joseph Warren, has late-stage cancer. Thus, Lyra Fairfield, the class belle, is leading a fundraiser and patient-donor matching process. "I'll donate ten thousand dollars. My husband is the director of Waverly General Hospital, and I've already asked him to arrange a VIP ward for Mr. Warren." Right after I send that message, the group pounces on me. "Mira, you contracted an STD back then and tried to pin it on Lyra. She didn't even hold it against you, and now you're trying to steal her thunder? You're unbelievable!" "I can't believe you're still lying through your teeth during such a serious situation. You never change, do you?" Lyra immediately defuses the tension. "Mira, I don't blame you for what happened in the past, but you really shouldn't impersonate the director's wife. I've already arranged the ward and surgery, and I'm donating another 100 thousand dollars to Mr. Warren!" I'm this close to laughing out of sheer anger. She's the one who scratched her name off the diagnosis report and framed me for having an STD all those years ago. I never even confronted her about it, and now she's playing the victim? Lyra soon posts a photo in the group chat, showing off her husband's car. Yet, when I see the man in the passenger seat, I guffaw. Isn't that my husband's driver? When did he start running a hospital?

Noah Kline is the picture of daytime purity. He is a shy philosophy student who wears glasses and shrinks under Dr. Alexander Elliott's piercing gray stare during ethics lectures. His heart races as he imagines those commanding hands bending him over the podium. At night, he turns into Nyx, the club's dirtiest pole dancer. His body is oiled and shining, his hips grind against steel in a way that makes cocks throb below. He drops into a slow, dirty split that makes cocks throb below. With his thighs spread wide around the pole, he rolls his pelvis in wet, teasing circles. His thong is soaked and clinging to his leaking erection while men stuff hundreds into his garter and fingers graze his balls. When Noah needs money for school, he gets a private VIP gig. He climbs the pole in a tiny thong and a glittering harness. He bends back and slides his fingers inside the waistband to tease his own hole on stage, moaning softly as the crowd cheers. Then the lights catch a familiar face: Professor Elliott, coming out of the shadows, his suit clean and his eyes black with wild hunger. Elliott rushes onto the stage and slams Noah's chest against the cold pole. "Daytime little mouse can't meet my eyes," he growls, shoving his knee between Noah's thighs to rub against his sore cock. "But here you are, dripping and begging strangers to break this tight hole?" Rough hands pull the harness aside, and Elliott's fingers go between Noah's cheeks, circling his entrance before pushing two thick fingers inside and curling them to hit his prostate hard.

Meu nome era Isabella Wright. No meu quinto ano de casamento com o Don de uma poderosa família da máfia, eu descobri que o amuleto que ele havia me dado era responsável por me causar dores de cabeça sempre que eu o usava. Eu descobri um pequeno sachê no interior do amuleto e decidi levá-lo ao Hospital Cursley. Após examiná-lo, o médico disse que nele havia um veneno de ação lenta, que além de causar mal ao corpo da vítima, a longo prazo causava infertilidade. Eu comecei a chorar e exclamei: — Isso não é possível! Foi Vincenzo Cursley quem me deu isso! Ele era meu marido e dono desse hospital! Com uma expressão confusa, o médico me olhou e disse: — Minha senhora, talvez você devesse dar uma passada na psiquiatria. Eu conhecia muito bem o Sr. Cursley e sua esposa, eles eram um casal muito próximo e nesse momento estavam na ala VIP, tomando conta do bebê que ela acabara de ter. Então, o doutor me mostrou uma foto em seu telefone. Vincenzo estava com seu terno preto habitual, aquele com o emblema da família Cursley bordado. Ele segurava um bebê nos braços e ao lado dele havia uma mulher... Uma mulher que eu conhecia muito bem: Claudia Henderson, aquela que Vincenzo dizia ser sua irmã adotiva.

In the fifth year of our long-distance relationship, I secretly quit my job without telling my boyfriend, Ian Gambino, and travelled more than a thousand kilometers to South Bordington. I wanted to give him a surprise: to get registered and married to him. He worked as a bodyguard for the biggest mafia Don in South Bordington. His job kept him extremely busy, and we were often out of contact. The last time we spoke, he said he had to accompany his boss to an underground auction for security. The job would last three months. Relying solely on the address that I remembered, I managed to find the place. When the guards at the entrance heard that I was looking for Ian Gambino, their expressions turned a little strange. "Don Ian is still busy. Please wait a moment," one of them said. I froze. Don Ian? Before I could process what he meant, I heard him whispering to the person next to him, "So, she's the one that the Don keeps outside? How did she end up here? If Donna Jeanine finds out about this, she's going to cause a huge scene." I was just about to explain to them that they had the wrong person when a woman in a custom-made evening gown walked in. The staff immediately fell silent and addressed her respectfully, "Donna Jeanine." She was on the phone, her voice coquettishly sweet. "Honey, I'm here. You promised you'd come with me and the baby for the medical checkup this time!" From the other end of the call came a deep male voice, filled with affection. "Darling, it'll be over soon. Go take a rest in the VIP lounge. Don't tire yourself out." I had listened to that voice for five years. It belonged to Ian Gambino.

For eight years in a marriage devoid of light, I had abortions five times. Every time, Sam would grip my hand when I woke up, his eyes red, and promise to find the best doctors to help me recover. After the third miscarriage, he finally hired a team of top-tier nutritionists, ensuring that every single meal was planned perfectly. He always comforted me, "Don't worry, Penny. We're still young, so we can have another baby!" When I found out I was pregnant again, snowflakes were dancing outside my window. I wrapped my fur coat tightly around my body and rushed to the company, only to hear Wren's furious voice outside the VIP suite, "Are you insane? Those five babies were your own flesh and blood!" Sam replied coldly, "Nicole needs specimen for her experiments. All I'm doing is providing her with the materials she needs." His words dug into my heart like icy spikes, and I could even hear my own bones cracking. "As for Penelope…" He chuckled. "Do you think that our marriage certificate is the real deal?" Snowflakes stung my face like needles, and I finally found out the truth about our marriage. From the very beginning, I was nothing more than a living test subject for the woman he truly loved. Sam was right. Those unborn children never even had legal identities, and were worth less than a piece of paper, just like my so-called marriage. Glass shattered from inside the room, and I could hear Wren cursing, but I turned and walked towards the elevator. Since Sam's priority was Nicole and nothing else, I was hell-bent on making him pay the price.

On campus, he was the most well-behaved student in the entire department. Oversized hoodies, black-rimmed glasses, quiet enough to fade into the background. Even when facing the notoriously strict Professor Elliott, he would only lower his head, clutch his books, and murmur a timid, “Professor.” At night, he became the most intoxicating dancer in the club. He wrapped himself around the pole, bent low, rolled his hips—each movement driving the men below into a frenzy. Bills were stuffed into the strap around his thigh as they shouted his name. To cover his obscene tuition fees, he took a private party offering an equally obscene payout. Inside the VIP room, he straddled the pole, bathed in dim, hazy light, fingers reaching for the final restraint he was meant to undo. Suddenly, the man lounging on the sofa stubbed out his cigar and stood. The light swept across his face— It was Elliott. The very man he feared most by day. He walked onto the stage step by step, then slammed him hard against the pole in full view of everyone. “Can’t even breathe in front of me during the day,” Elliott sneered, “but at night you’re here shaking your ass, begging men to f*k you?” His mentor wrenched his arms behind his back. Hot lips brushed his trembling earlobe, his voice low and dangerous. “Noah,” he murmured, “if you’re that desperate for money… why didn’t you just come to me? How much—per night?” He panicked and tried to struggle, but Elliott forced his legs apart with his knee, pinning him against the cold metal. “Don’t hide,” Elliott said softly. “Now. Take off the rest—right in front of me. And if you perform well…” A pause, deliberate. “I’ll pay you ten times tonight’s fee

"I agree to the divorce," I said as I dialed my mother-in-law's number. "Matteo Bellandi will never agree to divorce me, so you need to arrange a new identity for me. I need to disappear completely. He must never find me." Despite six years of marriage, I never conceived a child. In the Mafia world, how many men remarried for the sake of an heir? Yet Matteo always stood firmly at my side. To have a child, we tried everything—ninety-nine rounds of IVF that resulted in ninety-eight failures. The final pregnancy ended in fetal demise. Matteo held me and said, "Whether we have a child or not, I will always love you." Everyone said he was deeply devoted and that I was fortunate. Even I believed it. I believed it was my body that was defective. I believed I was the one holding him back. Until that day, when I went to the hospital for a follow-up exam. I saw him with my own eyes, pushing a mobile hospital bed into a VIP suite. On the bed lay a young woman named Sienna Vale, who had just given birth, holding a pair of twins—a boy and a girl. The congratulations inside the room were sharp and piercing. They praised his good fortune and Sienna's superior genes. They said the children were born to inherit the Bellandi empire. They mocked my education and my background and said I could not produce a "high-quality" heir. "Who do you think you are, daring to speak about her? My wife is not someone you get to judge. If I hear one more word of disrespect toward my Donna, you'd better weigh the consequences yourself," Matteo rebuked them coldly, preserving my dignity as Donna. In that moment, I finally understood that the marriage I had been so proud of was nothing more than a joke in everyone else's eyes. If that was the case, I would end this love story everyone envied with my own hands.

No meu quinto ano de casamento com o Don de uma poderosa família da máfia, descobri que o amuleto de proteção que ele me deu me causava dores de cabeça sempre que o carrego comigo. Como cirurgiã, isso acendeu um sinal de alerta em mim. Retirei os pequenos sachês que encontrei dentro do amuleto e os levei ao laboratório de toxicologia do Hospital Cursley. O médico examinou o sachê e me disse que ele continha um tipo de veneno de ação lenta que não apenas causava danos ao organismo da vítima, mas também a tornava infértil com o tempo. Chorei e exclamei: — Mas isso é impossível! Foi meu marido quem me deu isso! O nome dele é Vincenzo Cursley. E ele também é o dono deste hospital! O médico me olhou confuso. — Moça, por favor, pare com esse absurdo. Eu conheço o Sr. Cursley e a esposa dele. Eles são muito próximos e unidos. Aliás, a Sra. Cursley deu à luz um menino há pouco tempo. Os dois estão agora na ala VIP, admirando o bebê. Em seguida, o médico me mostrou uma foto no celular. Vincenzo estava usando seu habitual terno preto com o brasão da família Cursley bordado nele. Ele segurava um bebê nos braços, e a mulher ao lado dele... Eu a conhecia. Seu nome era Claudia Henderson. E Vincenzo sempre a chamou de irmã adotiva.