Rough Sex Novels & Stories

He fumbled with my breasts for less than a minute before making a disgusted face and pushing me aside. "Trash" He commented. I wasn't spectacularly busty compared to Mrs Kardashian, so I couldn't really blame him for his words. I rose from the floor and focused my eyes on the two as they both undressed and made their way to the bed while giggling at their victorious torture, and as well to the pleasure of their bare skin touching each other.

It connects with his jaw and sends the alpha stumbling backwards. He rubs his jaw and glares at me. I made sure to control my strength, so he shouldn’t be severely injured, but it will ache for a while. This time, Alpha Roman recovers quickly and starts to attack me with a flurry of punches. I dodge and block them all. He continues to try to land a blow for several minutes before he backs away.

, he answered politely. Another Journalist asked, “Mr. Rockstar… you have beaten up a person so harshly that he was about to near to his death…!.. How you clarify this…!...”. Ryan was frustrated. He somehow control himself, “Well… I will only say … that I am just a normal human being… I also get angry at many things and at many times… that time I cannot control myself… and sometimes we can’t capable to hold the annoyance…”. Another question by another media person, “Ryan sir,….About you it is said that… the great artist you are, the more arrogant and ruthless you are!.. Is it true about you…?...”.

It might not be necessary to shift, and it will be much easier to fight if I’m not wearing a dress. As soon as I’m dressed, I step outside and immediately hear a snarl. I turn to the left and there is a brown rogue wolf stalking towards me. You can always identify the rogues because they look mangey and deranged, like a dog who’s been abused and beaten. His fur is filthy, with a few patches missing, and he smells like vulture vomit. The combination of death and decay mixed with the burning, acidic scent of vomit is the worst possible combination.

I squirmed against him. "Still won't say anything?" He squeezed my nipple, causing me to arch my back. "Mr. Russo." I whimpered. "So now you know my name." His voice sent thrills down my spine. It was so heavy and smooth. "Mr. Russo this is wrong." I repeated. "As wrong as your boyfriend cheating with your step sister?" My eyes snapped open. "What the fuck..." He stuck another finger into me before I could complete the statement. I let out a strangled moan. That was so unexpected.

Yet, the man remained unfazed. The clash began. The roughs circled him, striking out with desperate blows, their fists connecting with nothing but empty air. The creature, fueled by the relentless drive to survive, moved with preternatural speed and agility, its claws slashing through the air, tearing through the fabric of resistance. The man launched himself at the roughs, lunging forward and knocking them off balance with swift and brutal strikes. Each blow, fueled by the beast's supernatural strength, sent the roughs reeling, their bodies crashing against the unforgiving walls.

Martin murmured softly, almost dropping his coffee. Sabrina was a 29-year-old prostitute. Her body seemed made to provoke married and single men alike. One meter and seventy centimeters of pure, well-distributed sex appeal. Heavy breasts, the kind that jiggled even when she was just breathing. A slim waist and a round, pert, fleshy backside, the kind that would make any man drool. Her skin was light brown, glistening with sweat from the Minas Gerais heat.

My jeans came off first, kicked away, followed by his. He hovered over me, naked and glorious in his ruin—bandages half-unraveled, blood streaking his chest, abs, down to the thick length of his cock standing rigid. One hand pressed to his side wound, coaxing more blood to flow, dark rivulets running over his hip and thigh. What the fuck is this man doing? “This is us,” he growled, smearing the red across my stomach with his palm. “Messy. Real.” Real? I arched up, grabbing his ass and pulling him down, our cocks sliding together in a slick grind. The blood made everything slippery, warm, heightening every sensation. His mouth found my neck, sucking hard enough to bruise, teeth grazing the pu

Watching me. My fingertips rise carefully, brushing along his jawline. His stubble prickles against my skin. It's rougher than Joel’s constant smooth, pampered face. Rico doesn’t reek of aftershave and control. He smells like salt, skin, engine oil, wood smoke… something real. He looks up at me with that quiet, heavy-eyed softness that’s been haunting me since this whole madness started. Like he sees the cracks. Like he wants to pour himself into them, not to fix me… but just so I don’t feel lonely.

“Good girl.” Then came the zipper. The heavy thud of his cock slapping against my ass. Thick, hot, already dripping. He rubbed the head through my folds, teasing my entrance, coating himself. “You want it rough?” he asked, voice gravel. “Yes.” “Say it.” “Fuck me rough, Marcus. Pound me until I can’t walk straight.” That did it. He slammed in full force, no mercy. One brutal thrust that buried him to the root. I screamed, the sound bouncing off the walls. He didn’t pause. Just gripped my hips with bruising fingers and started railing me like he was trying to break the table.