Skinny Thick

“Please stop, you're drunk,” I whispered, my voice trembling as I tried to push him off. His body was heavy against mine, his movements sluggish but persistent. He barely heard me. “How old are you?” he murmured, his voice thick with alcohol. “18,” I gasped, heart racing in a mix of fear and confusion. “Then you're already an adult” he said with a low chuckle, as though that settled everything. I should’ve stopped it. I should’ve left. But I didn't have the strength to argue, didn't have the will to stop him. He moved against me again, and that's when I felt something cold touch the most intimate part of me…. I woke up alone in a dimly lit room. He was still there, his back turned to me, but his face-his identity-was still hidden behind the mask. I glanced down at his left shoulder. A Phoenix tattoo. Bold. Intriguing. But then, I didn't hesitate. I grabbed my things and ran, my heart racing as I left the room without another word. It was supposed to be just a night. One meant to be forgotten. And that's exactly what I intended to do. I didn't know his name. I didn't even know his face. It was a night meant to stay buried in the past. It was a night I promised myself I’d forget. But that promise broke when pregnancy came knocking.

As I was cleaning up the house, I noticed something had fallen out of the cabinet my wife always kept locked tight. I remembered Megan's constant warnings. "That cabinet holds all our family's important records. If anything gets lost, there's no getting it back. Just leave it alone and don't touch it." Worried something valuable might have fallen out, I rushed to pick it up. But what I found was a thick stack of remittance slips. From forty years ago to now, every month, my wife had been sending money to the same account. And that's when it hit me. My wife had been lying to me. The money I'd been pouring into this family had been flowing right out, into the hands of someone else.

His hand fisted in my hair while the silk tie kept my wrists helpless above my head, his voice dark and thick with lust against my neck. “You’re soaking my fucking pants, Celeste—moaning like a needy little wife who wants to be fucked until she forgets her husband’s name. Is that what you want?” I arched into him, breath hitching as the words tumbled out, “Yes, sir.” ___ Celeste Maddox is the picture-perfect political wife, composed, elegant, and utterly unwanted. Behind closed doors, her marriage to golden boy Ethan is a hollow performance: no affection, no passion, just cold smiles and a carefully curated public image. But everything shatters when she walks in on Ethan tangled in the sheets with her own sister. Heartbroken and reckless, Celeste lets herself unravel for one night in the arms of a commanding stranger—someone who touches her like she matters, who makes her ache and moan like she’s never known pleasure before. She never planned to see him again. But fate has other plans because the stranger? He’s Dr. Rowan Wolfe, the couples therapist Ethan hires to fix their broken marriage. Now, every session is torture. Every glance, a spark.And when Ethan stops showing up, Rowan doesn’t stop seeing her. Talking turns to touching. Therapy turns to sin. And Celeste finds herself tied to the bed of the one man who makes her forget every vow she ever made. She swore she’d never cheat. He swore she was only his plaything. They’re both liars. However, some sins are worth every damn consequence.

“I can feel your fear. Your heat. The way your sweet little cunt clenches before I even touch it. You’re not afraid of the beast, Kaerith… You’re starving for him.” He forces her legs wide, claws digging into her hips, pinning her down like prey. The head of his cock—thick, ridged, inhuman—presses against her dripping entrance, teasing her folds, soaking in her slick. “Now spread wider,” he hisses. “And let the beast feed.” — Kaerith—an omega, daughter of the last great Lycan Alpha—was born with the rarest curse of all. She was meant to be ransomed, not enslaved. Now, she’s chained inside Murnokh—a kingdom made of bone and nightmare. A slave. A plaything. A feeding source for Gorvane. Gorvane doesn’t make love. He fucks angrily. He devours. And no one survives it. King Gorvane, a Dreadborn, of the Kingdom of Murnokh, who died as a result of betrayal, rose from a battlefield soaked in centuries of rage. And now, he owns her. He touches her thoughts. Her fear. Her pain. Her buried rage. And he drinks it. But something in Kaerith cracks his hunger. It weakens him. It entices him. And when he finally takes her, it’s not just to feed—it’s to claim. She was never meant to survive his touch. Now, she’s the only thing keeping him sane. He doesn’t understand her softness. Her silence. Her refusal to scream. He’s built to feed on the wreckage of the human heart. But she is making him forget how to starve, how to rage, how to hate. Real love is poison to his kind. Their love is forbidden and if she discovers his True Name—the very grief that birthed him—she will have the power to destroy him… Or to set him free.

After my father passed away three years ago, my mother drifted through relationships, never staying with one man for long. When we moved in with Professor Williams, I was surprised to discover his two adult sons still lived at home. Phoenix seems decent, but Jack? He despises me. He’s convinced my mother is after his father’s money, and that I’m just her useless shadow, dragged along for the ride. Their judgment hangs thick in the air—every glance feels like a scalding brand. And trapped under the same roof, there’s nowhere to hide.

Her silky hair was a mess. Her makeup, ruined. Her dress wrinkled like she slept on it. She was there, but her mind, elsewhere. Her eyes went to me. Her lips curled into a lazy smile. In every step she gave, my heart sank thinking she would fall. “What happened to you? Are you okay?” I rushed towards her. Her face twisted with disgust. “Oh, perfect Bella. The golden girl. Always correct. Always the best.” “What…” “Perfect Bella. Has the best grades. She doesn't have to fight to get into college, colleges fight over her.” “Emma, you are drunk.” “Perfect Bella doesn't drink. She is as pure as water. Saint Bella.” Her eyes glinted. “Perfect Bella doesn't sleep with her best friend's husband.” My body froze as a wave of chill ran through my spine. “What… what are you talking about?” She leaned in, her breath thick with alcohol, “Where do you think Marcus is? Why do you think I can barely walk straight? Is it hard to believe he took me and not you to that bad that was supposed to be yours?” My heart clenched. Tears started forming in my eyes. It didn't take long till they gave up to gravity. He… he didn't. We'd promised this morning. He couldn't. “He wouldn't.” ***** It's been a year, but the scars are still there. My past echoing in my head reminding me of everything that happened since that day. Every time I open my eyes in the morning to see... nothing. “You only get hurt by the ones you love the most.” “You only get betrayed by the ones you trust the most.” What happens when these two misbeliefs collide? ***** I hope I wrote this book good enough to make you feel it. Obrigada.☺️

He was one to go unnoticed by those around him for his head was always hidden behind the thick warm material of the black and grey hoodie. She was outspoken and not afraid of anything or she thought, her once fearless exterior came crumbling down in a heap of shuddered tears when she witnesses her best friend being murdered. Calder Evens liked to hid in the shadows keeping himself hidden from his enemies prying eyes, but one night he makes a life changing mistake and finds himself coming face to face with the one thing he feared most. Falling in love. Left with no other option but to take the extremely attractive young witness with him and for ever turning his life and empire upside down.

She froze, breath caught, facing the storm in his delinquent brown eyes. He leaned over her, hands gripping the rail, boxing her in. The air was thick, too heavy to breathe. Her gaze locked on his—unwilling, yet unable, to look away. The closer he leaned, the harder her heart pounded. She bit her lip, nerves twitching. No matter how far she ran, he always found her. “Why do you keep chasing me?” she asked, barely above a whisper. Her voice trembled, as if volume might shatter her. He didn’t answer. Silence roared between them. His stare—cold, unreadable—never left her face. “Do you like me?” she pressed, ignoring the disinterest in his eyes. She needed something. He gave a soft tut, then brushed a strand of hair behind her ear, twirling it lazily. The touch was light, but his closeness made her pulse race. “‘Like’ is a bit heavy, Tinkerbell,” he murmured, voice low and indifferent. The nickname slipped out like smoke—mocking, yet oddly tender. He leaned in, close enough for her to feel his heat. Close enough to unravel her. But his eyes stayed dark. Empty. She swallowed hard, unsure what hid behind them. “It’s strange,” he added, voice softer now. “But you’re the first woman I’ve ever aknowledged as a lady, Snow White.” — She was the good girl. Quiet. Overlooked. Her life, a shadow. No warmth. No safety. For a moment, she thought she’d found love—someone who saw her. Someone worth clinging to. But he broke her. When he left, he took her love—and her self-worth. She hated herself after that. Then she started to rebuild. And that’s when Zachary Gonzalez appeared. Mysterious. Magnetic. Dangerous. Everything she shouldn’t want.

"You are not her!" Alaric hisses darkly, his fingers enclosing around my exposed throat, claws grazing my skin. A little pressure... just a little, and I would be dead. "No... I am not..." I admit with difficulty. I only look similar to the deceased Luna supreme, I can never truly replace her. But if I am going to have any chances of survival, I need Alaric's claim... and I am hell bent on getting it. "Yet..." Alaric whispers, his husky voice trailing off. I smell his arousal, thick in the air... attesting to everything he would not admit. That despite knowing I am just a doppelganger, he still craves me... "Yet...?" I question slowly but I barely get the words out when a hand cups me between my thighs. I gasp in a mix of surprise and burning desire. "F*ck!" Alaric hissed at the feel of my arousal. "The only words you will say in my presence Kyra...is the chanting of my name." Alaric clarifies. "You wish to see me go mad, woman? I shall abide." He whispers. ~~~~~~~~~~ On the very night Kyra discovers Alpha Mikos is her mate, her heart shatters as she watches him bond with her cousin and bestow the title of Luna to another woman. The reason is simple, Kyra is a weak wolf born without an element. Or so everyone thought... On that same night, in a bid to protect her chastity, Kyra manifests an element many years too late, but it is not just any element...it is the rare fire element. Kyra's sudden and out of control discovery of her element leads to the death of Mikos's father, terrified for her life and Mikos's wrath, Kyra escapes pack lands only to be captured by unknown wolves led by a terrifying monster.

The silence stretched between them, thick and suffocating. Kourtney paced in front of him, her heels clicking against the dusty floor of the abandoned villa. The contract lay untouched on the table, just inches from Travis’s restrained hands. Her plan had been reckless, but it was all she had left. “I didn’t want to do this,” she murmured, voice shaking. “But you gave me no choice.” Travis tilted his head. “You think tying me to a chair will change how I feel?” “No. But it changes what you’re allowed to do,” she said, forcing a smirk that didn’t reach her eyes. He didn’t flinch. “What happens after the wedding, Kourtney? When your father finds out? When Kim finds out?” She looked away. “Then it’ll be too late. I’ll have what’s mine.” “Money?” he asked. “Or revenge?” That struck something in her. Kourtney turned to him, face darkening. “You chose her. You loved her. But what about me, Travis? You never even gave me a chance.” “You think forcing me into marriage will give you love?” “No,” she whispered. “But it’ll give me power.” Travis met her eyes. No fear. Just sadness. “This isn’t you,” he said softly. “You don’t know me anymore,” she replied, backing away. “Sign the contract, Travis. Or I swear, I’ll make sure you never walk free again.” Travis looked down at the paper, then back at her. “You’ll lose yourself in this, Kourtney.” She swallowed hard. “Then maybe losing myself is the only way I survive.”