Slow Hollows Novels & Stories

“What do you think people would say if they found out you don’t have a dick?” Christian asked, his voice low and dripping with seduction. His hand pressed firmly against my crotch, fingers exploring the flat, unfamiliar emptiness there. A devilish smirk curved his lips. “Or if they discovered these voluptuous breasts you’ve been hiding so well?” A strangled moan slipped from my throat as his hand slid under my shirt, his fingers brushing over my hardened nipples, teasing them with slow, deliberate strokes. “Which do you think they’d call you?” he murmured, eyes gleaming. “A boy with tits… or a dickless little fraud?” I stared into his hungry blue eyes, words failing me. “The term you’re looking for is ‘girl,’” came Xavier’s smooth voice from the bathroom doorway. He stepped inside, closing the door behind him with a soft click, his gaze raking over me with open interest. “So tell me, little girl… what the hell is someone like you doing in an all-boys dorm?” Christian’s smirk widened. “She wants to be devoured by boys like us.” His fingers gave my nipple one last firm pinch before he leaned in closer, breath hot against my ear. “And I’m more than happy to give her a taste.”

"You're going to take it, aren't you, little lamb?" Dominic's voice is low, teasing, dark. A hand grips my throat, just enough to make me gasp, make my pulse hammer beneath his fingertips. I whimper as Dominic's fingers slide between my thighs, teasing, parting, finding me already soaked. "Fuck," he groans, rubbing slow, torturous circles over my clit. "She's dripping. You feel that, Ash?" My body trembles, caught between pleasure so intense it borders on pain. "Cum for us, little lamb," Dominic commands. **** Caught between two brothers... One my best friend, the other my deepest desire. Dominic was everything I dreamed of-hot, charming, and completely unattainable. Especially with a girl like Cassie already by his side. Then there was Ashton-my childhood best friend, my safe haven, the one who had always been there. But one reckless dare changed everything. The night I was dared to kiss the Alpha, marks the beginning of my ruin. And just when I thought things couldn't get more complicated, Ashton confessed his feelings for me. Now, I'm trapped between two brothers-one who's always been my heart, and one who might just break it. How do you choose between love and desire when both could destroy you?

TITLE: TOUCH ME MORE, DADDY BLURB: 18+ | Pure Filth for Degenerate Readers Only ‼️ Proceed at Your Own Risk ‼️ This collection pulls you into the most dangerous corners of forbidden craving where every “innocent” touch turns into betrayal, every whispered command drips with guilt, and the wronger it feels, the harder they cum. Expect savage age gap dominance, brutal dirty talk, relentless breeding, messy creampies, power soaked corruption, and deliciously broken “good girls” who learn they were made to be ruined by the one man they should never crave. No vanilla. No mercy. Just raw, addictive spirals into total depravity. Each story is a complete, multi chapter filthy ride packed with slow building tension that explodes into merciless fucking secret rules that turn everyday moments into dripping need, hidden hands in risky places, and whispered ownership that leaves them aching for more. These are stories of complete surrender: flexible young athletes stretched and trained on gym benches, curious neighbors claimed on balconies, goddaughters corrupted in penthouses, innocent patients bred on exam tables, protected girls turned into mafia pets, bad girls disciplined in uniform, and office interns fucked raw over conference desks. Shy virgins become obedient cum dumps, all risking everything for the rush of being possessed and filled deep by their ultimate Daddy. Open these pages only if you’re ready to get addicted to the kind of filth you’ll never admit you love.

I had a best friend who was sweet as honey but only with her mouth. Behind my back, she was a demon. She stole my boyfriend, the underboss of the Chicago Outfit. Her excuse? She wanted to keep me away from the darkness and the blood, so she'd take the suffering in my place. She pawned her wedding ring and fed her husband some story about a limited edition bag for me. She skimmed from her husband's company accounts and pinned it on my male escort habit. She was pregnant and still wanted thrills. So she went to a full-blown orgy with her husband's uncle and a group of his associates. That's how she ended up hemorrhaging. But somehow it was my fault. I was the one who organized that kind of party, according to her. And her story? She tried to stop me, so I pushed her down and made her lose the baby. In the end, her husband sent me to a cartel hellhole in Mexico to atone for my sins. There, her lover sold me to the red-light district. First came the addiction. Then the streets. I served every man in their outfit, one after another. My body rotted. I died slow, sick, and alone. When I opened my eyes again, I was back on the night my best friend miscarried because of her own filthy party.

Some contracts are signed in ink. Others are written in something far more dangerous. Julian Evans has built his entire life on numbers; precise, logical, unyielding. As a forensic accountant, he follows the money, exposes the lies, and never gets close enough to feel the heat. Until the trail leads him somewhere no paper audit can protect him from: directly into the orbit of Alastor Vane. Powerful. Patient. Ruthless in ways that would make lesser men confess to sins they never committed. Their arrangement is simple on paper. Julian gets access. Alastor gets cover. No feelings. No complications. No crossing the line that separates what they are from what they could become. But the line keeps moving. The deeper Julian digs into the fraud unraveling at the edges of Alastor's empire, the more he realizes the rot isn't coming from outside, and the man he's supposed to be investigating might be the only one keeping him alive. Someone inside wants the investigation buried. Someone inside knows Julian's name. And the closer he gets to the truth, the harder it becomes to remember which side of the law he's supposed to be standing on. He came for evidence. He's staying for reasons he refuses to name. Because the most dangerous thing in Alastor Vane's world isn't the enemies at the door. It's the forensic accountant who's starting to look like home. A dark omegaverse romance. Slow burn. Morally complex. Not for the faint of heart.

It was Hana Verlice’s engagement party — but the only thing she could think about was that night six months ago. The night Dante Carter pinned her against the backseat window of his car,cheeks pressed to the glass, her dress lifted to her waists, with his mouth buried between her legs. Now, she was hours away from marrying his older brother. Elijah Osborne Carter — the perfect man, heir to Osborne Pharmaceuticals, and her father’s last hope of saving their crumbling empire. But as she slipped into her designer dress, her mind couldn't stop thinking about the one man she could never have. Dante. The mistake she was supposed to forget. The temptation she swore never to touch again. The younger brother who disappeared after that night and was never supposed to come back. But as she stepped out of her dressing room to join her soon-to-be husband at the party, there he was. Leaning at the foot of the stairs like raw sin. Messy hair. Dark eyes. That cocky mouth that once had her moaning his name in ecstacy. Her pulse quickened as her knees threatened to give out. She tried to breathe. To stay still. But one look at him… and she knew she was in trouble. “What the hell are you doing here?” she whispered, her voice barely holding. He smirked, slow and knowing as his gaze dropped shamelessly to her lips. “Did you miss me, cookie?”

I was on the verge of unbuckling his belt when he pulled away so forcefully I stumbled forward, disoriented by the sudden loss of contact. My core throbbed, my nipples could cut diamonds, and my skin was so sensitive even the brush of air caused me to tremble. But when the fog of sensation dissipated, I realized Alex was glaring at me. “Fuck.” He scrubbed a hand over his face, his scowl fierce enough to make grown men quake. “Fuck, fuck, fuck.” “Alex—” “No. What the hell were you thinking?” he bit out. “Did you think we would fuck in the kitchen while your friends are in the other room?” Heat scorched my cheeks. “If this is about Josh—” “It’s not about Josh.” Alex pinched the bridge of his nose and exhaled a slow, controlled breath. “Not entirely.” “Then what is it?” He wanted me. I knew he did; I felt it, and I’m not just talking about the massive bulge straining his pants. Yes, Josh would attempt to murder us both if he found out what happened, but he couldn’t stay mad at us forever. Besides, he didn’t return to D.C. until Christmas. We had time. “It’s me. And you. Together. It won’t work.” Alex’s glare intensified. “Whatever fantasies you have of us swirling in that pretty head of yours, kill them. That kiss was a one-time mistake. It’ll never happen again.”

In two steps he was on her, yanking her up straight and turning her around to face the wall. She gasped at the change in dynamic: her teasing and taunting were shoved roughly to one side and now he was in full and total control. Jo trembled as he dropped a slow, sexy kiss on her right shoulder, then lightly nipped her soft skin before moving his mouth to her ear. “Don’t you move, angel,” he murmured. “Keep facing forward.” **** Jolene Angeles is fresh out of a nightmare marriage and parked at a roadside biker bar hunting for one thing: Mr. Right Now. In a few days, she’ll have a new job, a new city, a new life, and a single, forgettable one-night stand feels like the perfect way to burn the past down. Then she meets Zeke. Silver-eyed, dangerous. Exactly the kind of mistake she wants. One night, no names, no aftermath. Zeke “Silver” Bennett doesn’t lose control. Ever. He learned that lesson once, and it nearly destroyed him. So when he spots the dark-eyed woman across the bar, he knows the rules: one night, clean break, no complications. Until fate throws them together again... and secrets start detonating. They didn’t tell each other the truth. Now they’re forced to decide: can trust be built on lies? And if the truth finally comes out – raw, painful, unforgiving – will either of them be brave enough to risk real love?

"She will come back," she promised. "She just needs time to sort her head out." "Not her heart?" The dry distinction made Charley wince. "I'm sure she loves you," she persisted. "She's just not ready to commit to marriage." If you just give her time, then I— Black eyebrows with a fascinating silken gloss gave her a curious look. "Are you actually standing there, Miss Jones, suggesting that I should wait for Adelina to sort her head out?" Well, was she? Lifting her chin, "If you love her—yes," she insisted. "Then you are a romantic fool because it is not going to happen." He moved suddenly, straightening away from the desk. "There is a wedding arranged for next Saturday morning, and I intend to make sure that it goes ahead." Without a bride? Charley stared at him. "You mean—you're going to find her and drag her back to marry you?" A silly kind of laugh left her throat at the very image of Adelina being dragged by this man down the church aisle, kicking and screaming. ‘No.’ Reaching behind him, his long fingers picked Adelina's letter up again—this time to fold it with slow, neat precision. "I mean to replace her with someone else."I want reparation for being taken for an idiot, and if that means putting you in Adelina's wedding dress and marrying you in her place, then that is what is going to happen."

“I’m going to have to eat your pussy since you won’t stop trembling like that, little mate.” The words rumble from Vincenzo’s throat as he pins me to the bed, his fangs grazing my inner thigh while Lorenzo and Valentino watch with glowing eyes, cocks already hard and leaking for me. I ran from my ex after catching him buried in another man, whining about an “open marriage” like I was disposable. Betrayed. Shattered. Done. Then the Drakvolk brothers found me—three godlike Lycan Alphas, rulers of the most ruthless pack alive. Brothers in blood, bonded in power, and destined to share one woman. Me. They’ve shared kills, territory, and secrets since they were pups… and now they share my body. Vincenzo’s tongue dives in first, slow and punishing, making me arch and gasp. Lorenzo’s rough hands spread me wider, fingers teasing my clit while he growls, “Scream for us, omega.” Valentino claims my mouth, swallowing every moan as their knots swell, promising to fill me completely—stretching, marking, breeding. No more lies. No more holding back. Just three primal gods taking turns, then taking me all at once, until I’m dripping, knotted, and begging: Moan for us… forever. The Alphas’ Dirty Desires