Silk And Snow

"Do you want me to stop?" Darlington growled, his thick cock buried deep inside her, stretching her with slow, deliberate thrusts that made her tremble. "No," Freya moaned, legs wrapped tight around his waist, hips rocking desperately to take him deeper. "God, no... harder." She was supposed to seduce him. Spy on him. Steal his secrets to save her dying mother. But the city's most ruthless billionaire, Darlington Knight, saw right through her from the moment she walked into his world. Now he's the one claiming her—pinning her against silk sheets, against cold glass walls, in the dark heat of his penthouse—fucking her senseless until she forgets her mission, forgets her lies, forgets everything but the way he owns her body. Every touch is dangerous. Every kiss a threat. He knows she's hiding something... and he's going to make her beg to confess—on her knees, breathless, dripping for him. Freya came to betray him. Instead, she's falling—hard, fast, and filthy—into a passion that could ruin them both. Even though Darlington might have his secrets, will he still see her the same way after finding out she was just a spy sent to seduce him?"

Every Thanksgiving, my husband, Salvatore, brings home a showgirl from one of his clubs. He makes me kneel and serve them drinks. A lesson, he calls it, in how to please a man. This was the eighth Thanksgiving, and this time, he brought back a girl poured into a tight leather dress. "She doesn't have any decent jewelry," Salvatore announced. "Give her your heirloom diamond ring. Your grandmother's pearl earrings, too. And take off that silk choker for her." He smirked. "And listen, she's young, doesn't know the rules. You'll have to show her the ropes. Especially how to handle a man in bed." Every member of the Genovese family was watching, waiting for my humiliation. I didn't disappoint. I opened my mouth and asked Salvatore for a divorce. Salvatore let out a sharp, ugly laugh, his eyes full of contempt. "Francesca, you pull this same shit every time," he jeered. "Your act is pathetic. Even more dramatic than your performance in bed." He leaned in. "You really want to divorce me? Fine. I'll give you five million in cash if you actually walk out that door." The living room erupted in laughter. They all said I was playing hard to get, that I didn't know my place. But they didn't know. This was the 88th time I had asked for a divorce, and it was the first time I truly meant it.

“He pressed me to the wall with one hand tight around my throat, the other sliding beneath the thin silk clinging to my skin. I should’ve been begging for help. Instead, my knees went weak when he leaned in, his mouth hot against my ear. ‘Does it hurt, darling?’ he whispered. I shook my head, even as his fingers left bruises. ‘Good. I like it when you take it.’ God, I hated him. God, I wanted him to never let go.” A DARK, EROTIC TALE OF OBSESSION, HUMILIATION, AND HUNGER. They called him the Devil, a sadist with a crooked smile and hands built for breaking men. In the underworld’s most perverse auction, Luca Ruelle is nothing but trembling prey, sold for a price no soul should fetch. Silk-wrapped, bare, choking on shame and smoke, he should be praying for rescue. But Kain Astor doesn’t rescue. He claims, corrupts, and devours. He teaches Luca how it feels to be owned. How pain can bloom where fear lives. How pleasure is just another kind of cruelty. Every command is a dare, every punishment a promise. Under Kain’s hands, Luca learns the exquisite agony of surrender, and the terror of how badly he needs it. He should be fighting for his life. Instead, he’s sinking to his knees, eyes glazed, lips parted, whispering the one word that seals his fate— “Please.”

Thirty days. One month. A single, heartbeat-stopping wager. Benjamin Parker was the sun. A golden-haired scholarship recruit with flour on his hands and a heart that he wore—vulnerable and beating—on his sleeve. He spent weeks chasing the school’s "Ice Prince," offering handmade tarts and a smile that could melt the coldest winter. He thought his persistence finally paid off when Jonathan Hayes—the obsidian-eyed, terrifyingly beautiful heir to a tech empire—pinned him against the school gates and claimed him in front of everyone. But the "Golden Romance" was a lie from the very first kiss. Jonathan didn't choose Benjamin because of his heart; he chose him because he was a convenient target for a cruel poker-room bet. The stakes? A vintage motorcycle. The duration? Thirty days of manufactured affection. Now, the countdown is ticking. Between the silk sheets of Jonathan’s penthouse and the shadows of the St. Jude’s library, the line between the game and reality is blurring. Jonathan is the predator who accidentally caught himself in his own trap, growing addicted to the very light he’s destined to extinguish. Benjamin is the lamb who is slowly realizing the wolf isn't just at the door—he’s in his bed. When the moon turns red and the thirty days are up, the truth will do more than just break Benjamin's heart. It will shatter his soul. One month of sweetness. A lifetime of ruin. In the game of hearts, the house always wins... and Jonathan Hayes never plays fair.

She thought divorce would set her free. Instead, it led her straight into hell and the devil himself, Sebastian Sterling. He offered her salvation. What she found was sin. --- An emotional, dark romance about temptation, control, and the price of survival. -- After ending her ten-year marriage to an unfaithful husband, Rosemary Seo wants nothing more than peace. No more manipulation. No more control. Just a chance to start over with her daughter — even if it means living in a cheap motel and scraping together every cent. But when every company in town suddenly rejects her job applications, Rosie realizes she’s trapped once again — not by love, but by power. Her ex-husband’s influence stretches further than she imagined… And her only hope lies in the hands of his estranged younger brother — Sebastian Edward Sterling, a man with a reputation as dangerous as his charm. Sebastian offers her a way out. A job. A chance to rebuild. But his terms come wrapped in silk and sin — and soon, Rosie finds herself drawn into his world of temptation, control, and forbidden pleasure. “You can be my personal assistant,” he said slowly. “Take care of my daily needs.” Then his voice softened further, dangerous and intimate. “Especially in bed.” He calls it a job. She calls it a deal with the devil. Caught between survival and surrender, Rosie must decide — Will she tame the devil who wants to own her, or become his next obsession?

I worked at a sales job and felt pretty good about my work. Then, Vivian appeared. She was a new intern with an insatiable curiosity for others’ private affairs. On Valentine’s Day, my husband, Henry Ambrose, bought a million dollars’ worth of bags from me to help me meet my sales target. Just as I left work to meet him for a date, Vivian sent a snide message. [Your Fitbit just logged an extra thousand steps. That’s literally the exact distance to the hotel next door. Nice work, Lily! You close a million-dollar deal and immediately head to the hotel with the client?] I coldly fired back, [If you’re this desperate to stalk people, you should’ve just joined the K-9 unit.] That very night, parcels of adult toys appeared on my doorstep. Vivian had written a nasty post that had gone viral, and things turned out like this! [This Salesgirl Slept With My Client and Stole My Million-Dollar Commission on Valentine’s Day!] A pair of my ripped silk stockings, which I had tossed in the trash, became her “proof” that I had seduced a client during work hours. Vivian was painted as the victim, while I was viciously smeared as a “salesgirl who slept with clients for commissions.” What Vivian did not know was that Henry was actually a leading researcher worth billions. I only took the sales job because I was bored and wanted to experience something new.

He stole the wrong girl. Or maybe… she chose the right king. Dante Valenti rules his empire with cold precision and a reputation soaked in blood. No one crosses him. No one deceives him. And no one escapes him. So when he kidnaps a woman from the Moretti estate—a trembling little princess meant to be leverage—he expects fear. Instead, the woman chained in his basement looks him dead in the eyes… and smiles. Aria Moretti has spent years hiding behind silk dresses and a porcelain mask, pretending to be the quiet, obedient daughter of the Moretti crime family. But beneath the pretty facade lies a secret no one suspects: She is the Moretti’s most lethal weapon. A phantom. A blade disguised as a flower. And she walked willingly into the lion’s den for one reason— to kill Dante Valenti. Her mission is simple: Get captured. Get close. Get his trust. End the king. But nothing about Dante is simple. The moment he discovers who she truly is, he doesn’t kill her. He claims her. "You came to kill me, little killer... but every king needs a queen.” Now, Aria is caught in a deadly dance between loyalty and desire, betrayal and obsession. Dante matches her darkness note for note—twisted, brilliant, and devastatingly irresistible. He should be her target. Instead, he’s becoming her temptation. And the deeper she falls, the clearer the truth becomes: She isn’t the only weapon in this war. Dante has claws of his own— and he’s willing to use every one of them to keep her.

“I know you’re pregnant, Valentina. That’s why you have to die tonight. Two lives for the price of one. Efficiency was always my strong suit.” On her third wedding anniversary, Valentina is gifted a shallow grave. Her husband, Kennedy, was never a billionaire. He was a fraud who drugged her, watched her drown in a poisoned bath, and buried her so he could marry his mistress. He never expected the gardener to hesitate. Never imagined she would claw her way out of the mud, pregnant, broken, and alive. And he certainly didn’t expect her to return. Dragged from the storm by Ian Kingston, a titan so powerful Kennedy is nothing more than a disposable employee, Valentina finds herself mistaken for Misha, Ian’s vanished wife. “You have 365 days to prove you aren’t her, little bird. Until then, you wear my name, share my bed, and follow my rules.” Trapped in a ruthless case of mistaken identity, Valentina signs the contract and becomes Misha Kingston, cold, untouchable, wrapped in emerald silk and Ian’s dangerous protection. The next time Kennedy sees the wife he buried, she isn’t in a coffin. She’s on his boss’s arm. Wearing a crown. Looking down at him from a throne he can never touch. But Valentina hides a child conceived by her enemy… While being claimed by a king who refuses to let her go. He buried a wife. Now he’ll kneel before a goddess.

During a company team-building event, I collapse from a seafood allergy. Yet my fiance, Frederick Scott, rushes Beatrice Sutton, who only twisted her ankle, to the hospital. I come close to dying because I don't get treatment in time. Later, Frederick explains, "Beatrice is my best friend's sister. He's seriously ill now, and I promised him I'd take care of his sister. I swear I'll keep my distance from her from now on." This isn't the first time I've heard an excuse like that. On our fifth anniversary, Beatrice accidentally deleted a work file and burst into tears out of worry. When Frederick heard about it, he left me stranded on a mountain and drove back to the office himself. I spent a whole day and night walking home through the rain. On Christmas, Beatrice's house lost power. Frederick was worried that she might be scared of being alone, and he rushed over to her place without even telling me, leaving me out in the snow waiting for him until dawn. These kinds of things have happened countless times. Afterward, he always brushes them off with the same excuse. I've long since lost all faith in him and no longer believe a single word he says. I pick up my phone and call the company that keeps reaching out to me. "I've decided to accept your offer from last time. I'll bring the core technology with me."

I woke up in a penthouse dressed up for Christmas, having no memory of how I got here. With a stranger sitted beside my hospital bed, his dark eyes watching me like I was something precious he was afraid to lose. He says his name is Damien Cross, my husband. He says we were in an accident two weeks before Christmas, and that I've forgotten everything about our perfect life together. But nothing felt right. The staff won't meet my eyes. My phone had no history. And when I found a journal hidden behind wrapped gifts in my dressing room, the handwriting is mine, but the words were a warning: Do not trust him. Leave before Christmas. You know what he did. Damien surrounded me with holiday magic, kisses under the mistletoe, and planned romantic surprises beneath twinkling lights. He's everything a husband should be: protective, tender, devoted. Yet his love felt like a cage decorated with ribbons and bows. The closer we got to Christmas Eve, the more I remember fragments of another life. Arguments,Fear,Betrayal. One night I tried to run from him in the snow and never made it out. Now I have until Christmas Day to uncover the truth about my past before Damien's version of our love story becomes the only one that matters. Because the man who saved me might be the same man I was trying to escape.