Saebyeok Suit

“Shut your fucking damn mouth!” Zach’s voice echoed through the room, raw and sharp with anger. Madison didn’t flinch. If anything, the fire in her eyes only burned brighter. She had been pushing his buttons for days—emotionally, mentally. And it tore at him, deep down where no one could see. “I thought you liked it open,” she said with a wicked smirk, sauntering toward his desk like she owned the place. His body betrayed him, twitching at her dirty words. Of course she knew exactly what to say. She always did. “I’m not quitting!” she snapped. “I am a doctor. A damn good one. Who do you think you are to tell me to give that up?!” Zach rose from behind his desk, calm yet dangerous. His hands moved to open his suit jacket, revealing that familiar tension in his shoulders—the one that made her heart race. “Wha—what are you doing?” He closed the space between them in two strides. “I’m your Daddy,” he growled, low and close, “like you cried out last night. And you… you’re mine.” And then his lips crashed into hers before she could breathe another word. ~~ Darly Madison—respected surgeon, focused, disciplined, and just a little stubborn—had her world under control. That is, until her best friend dragged her to a luxurious night party at one of the city’s most exclusive hotels. One night. One mistake. One man who turned her world upside down. Zach Westley. Mafia boss. Dominant. Dangerous. Possessive to the core. She thought it was just a one-night stand. He had other plans. Now her life as a surgeon collides with a dark underworld she never saw coming. And whether she likes it or not… she’s been claimed by the Mafia.

Compilation d'histoires érotiques et intense : Par une nuit moite de juillet, Élisa s’égare dans un bar aux lumières tamisées. Au fond de la salle, un homme l’observe, sûr de lui, presque insolent. Quelques mots échangés, un regard plus appuyé que les autres, puis une main glissée au creux de ses reins. Elle le suit, sans poser de question.Entre ses mains, sous ses mots, elle s’ouvre à des plaisirs qu’elle n’osait pas nommer, se laisse nouer, guider, retourner, jusqu’à ne plus savoir où finit la peur et où commence la jouissance. Et quand une autre présence les rejoint, silencieuse, précise, tout bascule plus profond, plus brut, plus vrai. Lorsqu’Éric ramène chez lui une jeune femme au regard troublant, il affirme à sa femme, Clara, qu’il s’agit de sa cousine éloignée venue s’installer temporairement chez eux. Clara, méfiante, accepte difficilement cette présence envahissante dans leur foyer. Mais très vite, les regards échangés, les absences inexpliquées et les tensions silencieuses sèment le doute. Car cette “cousine” n’en est pas une… c’est la maîtresse d’Éric. Entre mensonges, manipulations et passion interdite, le foyer de Clara devient le théâtre d’une trahison orchestrée sous son propre toit. Jusqu’où ira Éric pour protéger son secret ? Et que se passera-t-il quand Clara découvrira la vérité ?

I'm a mafia princess with crippling social anxiety. My fiancé, Rocco Falcone, is our family's consigliere. He’s the exact opposite of me—extroverted, effortlessly charming, a master at reading and bending people. He's supposed to be my protector. My only link to the outside world. Tonight was the charity gala for my late mother. I was hiding in the darkest corner, a mask covering my face. Rocco was supposed to give the speech. My speech. He never showed. [Emergency. Sorry. Skip the speech, I know you hate the attention. Driver will take you home after the auction. Don't wait up.] Then I saw Livia’s new post. It was a picture of Rocco, draping his suit jacket over her shoulders. He was looking down at her, his eyes full of a tenderness he never showed me. The caption was a gut punch: [No prom date, so my big bro saved the day! Couldn't have done it without him! ] The cold hit me. Bone deep. He ditched a memorial for my dead mother... to take his stepsister to a university dance? The guests began whispering and sneering that I, the famously awkward, socially crippled princess, couldn’t even force a word out. I stared at the whiskey I’d ordered for him. The ice in my glass was melting. Just like the hope in my heart. When I got back to our empty penthouse, my screen was lit up with missed calls and texts from Rocco. The last one came in thirty minutes ago: [Aurelia, trouble at Livia's prom. You know how she gets. Couldn't leave her. Your mother's gala means everything. I'll make it up to you, I promise. Next time will be perfect. Trust me.] I didn't reply. An engagement held together by "next time." Was a promise like that even worth keeping?

“Hmm... Rhea, is it? Nice name.” I froze as I heard the husky voice, and I felt tremors running down my spine. I slowly raised my head and met the bluest eyes I had ever seen... Bluer than the ocean… So blue that they seemed to twinkle like twin pools of sapphire. I ran my eyes over his entire figure. He was wearing a suit but didn’t look like the typical businessmen. For one thing, he was not clean shaved, and had a five o’clock shadow on his face. And I couldn’t figure out if his hair was stylishly messed up, or he just didn’t bother to do anything with it at all. Either way, it looked good. Too good! And those lips.. I was brought out of my fantasies when those oh so kissable lips turned up into a smirk. Uh huh! I bit my lips, trying to bring myself out of the lust-filled haze I was falling into. There was just something about him, something so magnetic that I was losing all control of my thoughts. There seemed to be an aura of power and danger surrounding him. If I didn’t know any better, the one word I would say was ‘otherworldly’... but I knew better and just stopped myself in time from uttering the words ‘What are you?’. ------------------- From the day she woke up without memories two years ago, Rhea had always thought she was a normal human girl. What happens when she realises she was never a human, but a goddess? Suddenly her once boring life becomes all too exciting when she finds herself in the middle of Gods, demons, and a mysterious wolf protector. Add a handsome stranger whom she can’t seem to get her mind away from, Rhea is in for a lot more than she bargained for...

I despised Dante Moretti long before he slid that ring onto my finger. Arrogant. Controlling. The kind of boss who could ruin my day with a single clipped order. I hated the way he spoke to me. I hated the way he watched me more. But walking into my hometown with his ring and watching my ex-husband’s face drain of color felt wickedly perfect. The elders wanted to see real love before selling their land. So Dante and I lied. We played the sweet couple. Except Dante didn’t touch me like a man pretending. At the Christmas market, his hand slid down my spine and stopped right where it shouldn’t. At dinner, he whispered against my ear, “If he’s watching, spread your legs a little. Let him see who owns you now.” I should have slapped him. Instead, my body answered him before I could breathe. He kissed my temple too slow and held my waist too tight. When the lights dimmed, he murmured, “Open for me.” “Keep your eyes on me.” “I want you shaking for me, not for him.” Somewhere between hating him and wanting him to wreck me, everything blurred. Because the man who barked orders in boardrooms had me whispering his name in the dark, Christmas lights flickering over his bare shoulders while he swallowed every sound I made. My ex wanted me broken. Dante wanted me ruined, but only beneath him. And the worst part was how easily I let him. Santa didn’t bring me a miracle. He gave me a sin in a three piece suit and I tore the wrapping off with trembling hands. As book one ends, book two: ON YOUR KNEES MR. BILLIONAIRE starts immediately

. No one argues with me. I sit there for a long time. Eventually, footsteps approach again. I do not look up. “Selene,” a voice says. I recognize it. I lift my head slowly. Dorian stands in the doorway. His suit is immaculate. His hair perfectly styled. He looks irritated. Not panicked. Not broken. Late. “You came,” I say. My voice sounds wrong. Hollow. He exhales sharply. “I came as soon as I could.” I look down at Rowen. Then back at Dorian. “You missed it,” I say calmly. He frowns. “Missed what?” I laugh. “Our son,” I say. “You missed our son.” His eyes shift to the bed. To the stillness. To the quiet. Something flickers across his face. Annoyance. Disbelief. Not grief. “Selene,” he says. “What are you talking about.” I stand up slowly, still holding Rowen. “He waited for you,” I say. “He asked for you.” Dorian rubs his temple. “This is not the time for dramatics.” I stare at him. “Say that again,” I say softly. He sighs. “We will arrange the healers again tomorrow. Right now, I have people waiting.” I feel something dangerous rise in my chest. “Tomorrow,” I repeat. “Hmm. Okay.” He steps close r. Looks at Rowen more carefully now. “Why is he not responding,” he asks. I meet his eyes. “Because he is dead,” I say. Dorian freezes. “What,” he says. I take a step toward him. “Say his name,” I tell him. He hesitates. “Rowen.” “Say it again,” I say. “Rowen,” he repeats, irritated now. I lift my chin. “He died asking if he was good enough for you,” I say. “So tell me, Alpha Nightfall.” My voice trembles for the first time. “Was he.”

“Relax. It was meaningless. It didn’t mean a thing.” Three years. That’s how long Lena Carter loved Evan Brooks—three years of loyalty, late nights, and believing she was building a future with him. Until she finds him in a hotel suite bathroom, hands braced against marble, whispering excuses while her cousin—and closest friend—fixes her lipstick in the mirror. All this happens during Lena’s promotion celebration. Lena should be home, crying into cheap wine and shattered dreams. Instead, she’s stranded on a quiet Los Angeles street at midnight, phone dead, heels in hand, with a group of drunk men circling closer than comfort allows. Then a black luxury sedan pulls up. The man who steps out wears a tailored suit, calm eyes, and an authority that makes the street go silent. Mason Hart. Billionaire. Tech CEO. And—unknown to him—the elusive owner of the company where Lena works as an executive assistant two floors below the C-suite. He offers her a ride. She hesitates. She takes it. That single decision rewrites her life. Mason doesn’t mix business with emotions. He doesn’t date employees. And he definitely doesn’t rescue strangers with haunted eyes. But Lena’s quiet strength, the way she refuses pity, the way pain sharpens her instead of breaking her—it gets under his skin. Lena just wants to forget the man who betrayed her. Mason offers distraction. Protection. Desire without promises. But Evan refuses to let go, spreading lies and suddenly desperate to “fix things.” Her cousin is determined to destroy what little Lena has left. And the closer Lena grows to the powerful CEO who signs her company’s paychecks, the more dangerous her heart becomes. Because falling for a billionaire who doesn’t believe in love might hurt worse than betrayal.

Serene’s heart raced as she stood in Nicholas’s dimly lit study, the scent of leather and whiskey heavy in the air. She’d been dusting the bookshelves when he entered, his presence filling the room like a storm. Now, he stood inches away, his black suit hugging his broad shoulders, his dark mullet framing a gaze that burned with intent. “You missed a spot,” he murmured, his voice a low growl, pointing to a shelf she’d already cleaned. Her cheeks flushed as she turned, the hem of her maid uniform riding up her thighs. “I-I’ll get it, Mr. Volkov,” she stammered, reaching up, but his hand caught her wrist, firm yet gentle. “No,” he said, stepping closer, his breath warm against her ear. “Let me show you.” His fingers slid down her arm, leaving a trail of heat, before guiding her hand to the shelf. His chest pressed against her back, and she gasped at the hardness of his body, the evidence of his arousal unmistakable. “You’re trembling, little maid,” he whispered, his lips brushing her neck, sending shivers down her spine. “Do I scare you… or do I excite you?” Her breath hitched as his free hand trailed up her thigh, slipping beneath the lace of her uniform. “Mr. Volkov…” she whimpered, but her protest melted into a moan as his fingers found her, teasing her through the thin fabric of her panties. “ Nicholas,” he corrected, his voice rough with desire, his touch growing bolder, circling her most sensitive spot until her knees buckled. “Say it,” he demanded, nipping her earlobe. “N-Nicholas,” she gasped, her body arching into him, surrendering to the fire he’d ignited. In that moment, the billionaire and his naive maid were bound by a hunger neither could deny.

Desperation forces Elena to work as a waitress in a notorious underground nightclub to cover her son's mounting medical bills. Her mundane yet precarious life takes a dangerous turn one night when several drunk patrons corner her. Before things spiral out of control, a shadowy figure intervenes — her ex-boyfriend, now a powerful and feared mafia boss, Damien Moretti. Years ago, their love was a whirlwind of passion and chaos, abruptly severed by betrayal and secrets. Now standing before her in a tailored suit with an air of cold authority, Damien isn’t the man she once knew — he’s darker, more ruthless, and unapologetically possessive. Now, he’s no longer a charming rebel but a man who bends the world to his will. His terms are chilling yet inescapable: “You belong to me. Always have. Always will. And I’ll make you remember that.” Damien offers a deal Elena can’t easily refuse — become his mistress, and he’ll wipe out all her debts. Despite her defiant spirit, Elena is torn between pride and a mother’s fierce love. Elena faces an impossible choice while hiding a secret: Draco, her five-year-old son, is Damien's child. Damien's obsession with control intensifies as he becomes increasingly possessive of Elena, keeping her under constant watch. While others label his love psychopathic, She struggles to deny the magnetic pull he still has over her. His dangerous lifestyle threatens to drag her back into a world of blood and shadows, but he’s the only one who can save her son. As their twisted relationship reignites, Damien's enemies close in, putting both Elena and Draco at risk. When Damien uncovers the truth about Draco, his possessiveness reaches a fever pitch — no one will touch what belongs to him, not even fate!

*******He can spank me every single day, I might get addicted to this.  Suddenly he's off from me, and I instantly miss his dominant warmth, so I take a chance to look behind me and I must have died and gone to heaven, because Alessandro Moretti is stripping himself from his pristine suit, unveiling the fine body he hides underneath it.  First his jacket goes, then he angrily takes off his tie, his eyes never leaving mine and I'm completely immobilized as he reveals that chest to me that I would love to map with my finger.  I gulp when his hands go to his belt buckle and he drops his pants, dressed now in only black boxer briefs. He palms his very hard, very big erection through the material brazenly and I'm scared I might really get a heart attack from the way my heart is beating furiously.*****  When the Prince Of The Underground first lay eyes on the beauty that is Farrah Simpson, he is caught hook, line and sinker. At first he thinks he can get her out of his system, but the beauty has more depth than he could've ever imagined. Against her will and better judgement, she too falls in love with the dangerous criminal, changing her life forever. As much as Alessandro loves her, he has to let her go. He has too many enemies who would salivate at capturing her, and he simply cannot take the risk with the woman who owns his whole heart. He tries to stay away from her, but Farrah wouldn't let him. He made her fall in love with him and she cannot see her life without him. Will Alessandro be able to stay away from her? Or will Farrah convince him she's worth fighting for?