Novel & Cerita Sci Fi Mech Suit

*Hollis Bogard isn’t known for her commitment. In fact, she’s content leading a single, flirtatious life. That might change after meeting Whitney York, a free spirited artist thirsting for adventure.Having been cursed out, chased, and scorned by every broken hearted woman twenty eight year old heroin addict Hollis Bogard has slept around with, she’s not fazed at all by any of it. Always preferring to look for the next best set of kissable lips. Life as an emotionally unavailable bachelorette has served her well, and after all...everyone was warned before anything happened. Feelings were a big no. Hollis had seen what love did to her parents, and wanted nothing to do with the white picket-fenced lie. So long as her bed was warm when she needed it to be, that’s what mattered.Californian Whitney York is ready for a new start. While spontaneity wasn’t a strong suit of her’s, packing up everything she owned into her little black 2008 Toyota Prius and driving cross country to Auburn, Maine was the best idea she’d had all year. No more nagging mother, to hell with her father always comparing Whitney to her successful sister, Theresa. The one with the prestigious acting career, doting husband, and two all American poster children. She wanted to be free to figure out her own destiny. When elusive Hollis bumps into electrifying Whitney at a local bar on the outskirts of town, sparks fly between the unlikely pair.Disclaimer: Strong sexual content, graphic sex scenes, drug usage. 18+, please. This novel won’t be for you if you’re not comfortable with any of the above topics.2019 All Rights Reserved (you know how it goes) Please don’t attempt to steal any part of my work.

> “Stay still, Little Thorn… I want to taste you slowly.” His voice was velvet and ruin. His mouth, a weapon. And I—fool that I was—leaned closer. Before death wore a suit and called itself a lover, I used to believe in beauty. Before the blood. Before the runes. Before I painted the image that killed my parents—I believed my art could save me. Now I know better. I was just weeks from graduating when the painting came to me like a fever. I didn’t choose it. I didn’t plan it. My hands moved, possessed, dragging symbols I’d never seen and a face I’d never forgotten—his. Eyes red as wine. A crown pierced with thorns. And a girl in the center… me. Offering herself. I signed it with a mark I didn’t recognize. I sold it to a stranger. And days later, my parents were dead—no wounds, no reason, just... gone. The police said stress. I say fate. Now I’m being hunted by a world I didn’t know existed. Vampires with ancient courts and older grudges. Symbols that whisper in my blood. And Lucien D’Aragon—the vampire who says I summoned him with my brushstroke. That I belong to him. He says I’m his prophecy. His ruin. His Little Thorn. But I’m not just prey. Something is waking in me. Something hungry. Something I was never meant to survive. If I give in, I lose everything. If I fight, I might finally learn the truth. About my art. About my bloodline. About what really happened that night. And why he keeps whispering that I was painted for ruin... but made for him.

She loved him to the core, and from the age of four, a name called Neil Davis took residence in her heart. For the sake of his precarious career, she even went so far as to bear children for the unfamiliar Wilson couple. Twenty years of silent devotion led to him kneeling before another woman, promising her a lifetime commitment. No one knew she was the other half on his marriage certificate, trapped in a marriage that existed only in name for many years. "Neil, you'll never know what I've sacrificed for loving you!" "Then never tell me." With that, he coldly walked away, leaving her to sit alone in the living room until dawn. It was her twenty-fourth birthday, and the divorce agreement and a five million dollar check were his gifts to her. * Married for six years, she never imagined that one day, while he indulged in passion with his "fiancée" in bed, she would be curled up in the wardrobe, losing her virginity beneath another man! She was completely naked, while the man was impeccably dressed in a suit. He forced her to peer through the crack to witness the frenzied scene on the bed. "Same position, same frequency. Guess, between him and me, who will climax first?" The man's tone was serious, and under her startled gaze, he thrust even harder, penetrating deeper. "I love you, Neil!" She bit her lip tightly, but the ecstatic cries of Neil's "fiancée" from outside the wardrobe blurred her vision. Life is so ironic— While he was making love to other women, she was hiding in the closet having an affair with that woman's uncle, Mr. Wilson. After the divorce, a child in a little suit, resembling herself and Mr. Wilson, barged into her peaceful life.

Fuck, look at you,” he growled, backing her against the desk, voice low and rough. “Sitting in my class every day with that innocent little smile while your pussy’s soaked for your brother’s best friend.” She whimpered as his hand slid up her thigh, pushing her skirt higher. “Tell me, baby,” he rasped against her ear, teeth grazing her pulse, “how many times have you touched yourself thinking about your professor bending you over this desk and ruining you?” Her breath hitched. “Too many…” He chuckled darkly, fingers teasing the edge of her panties. “Good girl. Because tonight I’m going to fuck you so deep you’ll still feel me when you’re sitting in my lecture tomorrow, trying not to moan my name in front of everyone.” --- He teaches by day… and rules the road by night. Fleeing New Orleans was supposed to be Nirvana Hale’s fresh start. She was finally going to meet Adrian Cross; her brother’s best friend and the voice that had comforted her through her darkest nights. But the man waiting for her in New York is a stranger. He’s the lethal enforcer of a notorious motorcycle club, a man who treats her like a burden to be locked away. Just as Nirvana begins to hate the man she once adored, the world shifts again. On her first day at Rodrigo University, she walks into her lecture hall to find Adrian standing at the podium. In a crisp suit and glasses, Professor Cross is composed, brilliant, and completely off-limits. Now, Nirvana is trapped in a dangerous game of cat and mouse. By day, he's the teacher who refuses to look her in the eye. By night, he’s the biker who makes her pulse race.

As one of London's premier wedding planners, I have spent my career orchestrating "perfect moments" for others, yet I never seemed to find my own. The ballroom at Claridge's was bathed in an opulent glow for my best friend Stella's wedding. The bridal bouquet sailed over the crowd. It brushed a young woman's fingertips, bounced once, and landed squarely in my arms. In an instant, half of London's high society turned toward Ryan. "Proposal! Proposal!" the crowd chanted over the rhythmic clink of champagne flutes. "Ryan, a sign like that is rare. Looks like we should prepare for the next big party!" Ryan was nudged forward by the crowd. In his charcoal Savile Row suit, he still managed to look detached, as if the noise had nothing to do with him. As I held the flowers, the lingering scent of fresh roses filled the air. For one ridiculous second, I even wondered whether I should warn him not to crease his trousers if he knelt. But he only smiled. Then, with practised ease, he took the bouquet from my arms. Without the slightest hesitation, he turned and handed it to his assistant, Emily, who was standing nearby. "She touched it first," he said, ruffling my hair with the same flawless tenderness I had endured for eight years. "Be good, Claire. Let's wait for the right time." The attention followed the flowers as they moved away. I caught the flicker of triumph in Emily's eyes and quickly looked down, tracing the intricate patterns of the carpet while forcing a perfectly poised smile. Ryan lived by schedules and efficiency, yet he never understood one simple truth: some chances, once missed, don't come with a "next time". My own wedding is next Saturday. And he has been officially struck from the guest list.

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.

WARNING! Mature Contents!!! A one-night stand of hot unprotected sex filled with passion and desire and Tiffany West and Lorenzo Russo's lives intertwine forever. Tiffany has no idea her stepfather owes the Cosa Nostra money and she's been used to repay the debt with an arranged marriage to Demirci, a member of the Turkish Mafia. And then there's him. The devil with a handsome face and nice tailored suit and a heart as black as tar. Lorenzo Russo. He's the man she lusts after and loathes more than anything— his stone-cold demeanor, his arrogance, and too too-perceptive eyes. He's ability to see through her disguise to the broken girl she is has her infuriated. He's the embodiment of darkness and probably one of the most dangerous men in the world but she has no idea she's his frustration and fascination. Nowhere in Lorenzo Russo plan had he ever prepared for Tiffany. She's his opposite in every way… and the greatest temptation he's ever known. The breathing definition of everything he didn't want. She laughs too loud. She talks so much. She's clearly not his type, but still, he couldn't keep his eyes from following her wherever she goes and thinking about their night of wild sex. After a wild party where Tiffany clearly had too many drinks. She wakes up next to Lorenzo wearing his ring. His wedding ring. Who accidentally gets married to Lorenzo Russo, a Mafia don. Now she's forced to live with him. Sleep next to him. Be a wife to him. It didn't take long before shadows of the past comes knocking in the face of Salvatore Russo, the devil of a father that orders the murder of his sons. Now he's out to destroy the one thing Lorenzo Russo seems to obsess about, Tiffany West.

“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.

I stepped closer. Close enough to smell his cologne—cedarwood, leather, and power. My hand moved. Smooth, practiced. The pistol slide from under the apron into my palm. I raised it fast. But before I could pull the trigger— BANG. Not my shot. A scream tore through the restaurant as another man launched himself toward Romano’s table, blade flashing. Another assassin. What the hell— Romano didn’t flinch. He shoved the table forward, knocking the attacker off balance. The blade scraped across wood, not skin. I ducked instinctively as the room erupted into chaos. Gunfire cracked. Glass exploded. People screamed and dove for cover. “Get him out—NOW!” one of the guards barked. I aimed for the second attacker. Didn’t even hesitate. One shot—head. Gone. The guard saw me. Confusion flashed in his eyes. Then rage. I ran. I weaved between overturned chairs, plates, and screaming bodies. The smell of blood was real now, thick in the air. One of the guards grabbed me. I slammed my elbow into his ribs, twisted, and brought the butt of my gun down on his skull. He dropped like a sack of bricks. Out. I had to get out. My boots pounded the floor as I tore through the narrow hallway. But then— “Elisa.” His voice stopped me cold. I turned. Antonio Romano stood in the middle of the carnage, suit untouched, blood spattered behind him like art. His eyes were on me. And he was smiling. It was darker. Slower. Like a hunter seeing something worth chasing. Somehow, he knew who I was. “Interesting,” he said softly, tilting his head. “They sent you.” I didn’t answer. I ran. But that voice followed me. He knew my name. And he let me go. This wasn’t over. It had just begun.

*******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?