Soaked Thong

When you have status in a wolf pack then your life is set. You have privilege, you have pretty much everything you can ask for. I used to have that. Until my father, the head warrior, died protecting the Alpha and then all of a sudden we were nothing to the top pack leaders. That was 5 years ago now. I still wonder how my mother managed to live through the death of her mate. She’s the strongest woman I know. Especially after having our house taken off of us, our car, our entire life taken away. When I got to school, I was pretty soaked from the rain and I went inside and went straight to my locker. I could hear a bunch of kids coming down the hallway towards me, and I turned my head slightly to look at them. They were friends that I used to have, and friends that I always refused to have because they were spoiled assholes. One of the guys that was closest to me elbowed me and shoved me into the locker and the rest of his friends started laughing. “Dickhead.” I yelled. And they all stopped. But he slowly turned around to look at me. “What did you just say, trash?” He asked. “You heard me.” I said, turning to face him head on. “I outrank you bitch. You don’t walk away from me. Never forget that.” He yelled. “Fine.” I said, without changing my facial expression at all. So he relaxed a little and pulled back away from me to look at his friends. But then one of his friends yelled at him to look out and when he turned back around to look at me, I punched him straight in the nose.

18+[Mature content] “Listen to you,” he murmurs against my ear, two fingers slipping through my folds without entering, just spreading the wetness up to my clit and circling slow. “Soaked for me. You’ve been like this all day, haven’t you? I whimper, pushing back against him, feeling the thick, length of him hot against my ass. He chuckles, dark and wicked. “Greedy girl you want your step-uncle’s cock again?” “Yes,” I gasp. “Please—” He pulls his fingers away and I cry out at the loss, but then he’s gripping my hips, tilting me just right, and sliding into me in one slow, relentless push. “Fuck, Mabel,” he groans. “This pussy was made for me.”Then he starts moving hard, filthy strokes that shove me up the mattress, the tie around my wrists pulling tight. “Come on my cock,” he growls. “Show me how much you love being fucked by the one man you’re never supposed to want.” I screamed whiles he keeps pounding through it, snarling filthy praise in my ear. “That’s it milk me, baby… gonna fill you up again so you feel me every time you sit down tomorrow…” He slams deep one last time and comes with my name on his tongue, pulsing hot inside me until it’s dripping down my thighs. He unties me slowly, pulls off the blindfold and kisses me soft and deep while I’m still shaking around him. ** After her boyfriend dumped her, calling her a “buzzkill” in bed, her best friend swore by a new doctor in town (turns out he’s the step-uncle she barely remembers, and everything changes).

My fiance, Victor Blackwood, is a mafia boss who rules the country's underworld with an iron fist. To the rest of the world, he is the epitome of power. Yet to me, he is the embodiment of love. But I do not realize the cost of loving a man like him. On Valentine's Day, I cook his favorite dishes and wait for him to come home. However, time passes, and his chair stays empty. Uneasy, I go to Queenie Stone's social media page. She is Victor's foster sister. She posts, "All I said was that I felt lonely, and he came right away. "Even when I accidentally spilled wine on him, he didn't mind. Victor is still someone who puts family first, even if it means neglecting his lover. "He never lets me down. I hope things stay that way." In the photo, Victor's shirt is soaked at the waist. Queenie's handkerchief lingers near his most private parts, but he doesn't pull away. He merely looks at her affectionately. I do not make a fuss and give Queenie's post a like. Then, I send Victor a message that reads, "Let's break up." Victor ignores it as always. Later, I discover that when my breakup message popped up, he had said offhandedly, "Vivienne can't live without me. She's just acting out. "If I ignore her for a few days, she'll come crawling back by herself. She's easy to please." What he doesn't know is that I was easy to handle only because I once loved him. But now that I have decided to leave, he cannot make me turn back, no matter how he tries to win me over.

To the world, I was Mrs. Ward—the untouchable queen beside the mafia king of New York, Elias Ward. But I knew my husband never loved me. His heart had always belonged to Harper Dinah. His nephew’s wife. And after that nephew conveniently died, Elias brought her into our mansion, “I just want to take better care of her,” he’d said. And his version of “care” was where he’d throw a man out of a party for daring to flirt with Harper and got her pregnant. Elias likes to praise me in public like I was the perfect wife to him. And I was. I helped build his empire. I was the one who smiled and played nice. I made his casino shine while he hid Harper away like she was something sacred. Because of all that praising, one of his enemies set his sights on me. They took me. Sent Elias a message soaked in blood and threats: Back off. Leave New York. Or your pretty wife dies. Of course, Elias didn’t choose to back off.. “Just wait,” he said over the phone, “They won’t hurt you, Noa. You’re leverage. Just hold on until Harper gives birth. Then I’ll come for you.” Eight months of being held in a filthy hole, starved, beaten, degraded. The gang leader raped me over and over again. And still, Elias never came. Finally, I escaped when they were all drunk. Went home, only find my twins sleeping in the maid’s room, eating scraps while Elias was too busy hosting a party for his newborn. I didn’t confront him, just packed my babies and disappear.

While I was nine months pregnant, the apple of my husband’s eye moved into our house. Whenever she saw me, she would make a sad face. My husband was sure that I was flaunting my pregnancy to make her angry. “Rachel is frail, and she can’t get pregnant, yet you’re walking around making her upset?! Do I seriously have to teach you a lesson?!” He ordered the bodyguards to lock me in the attic that had not been in use for a long time and told them not to give me food. I pleaded for mercy and told him that the ultrasound scan showed that the twin babies were too big. I told him that the doctor had claimed that I had to be hospitalized while I waited for my delivery. But he laughed as if he had heard the world’s greatest joke. When he spoke, his voice was as cold as ice. “You’re still three days away from your delivery date! Enough with the pitiful act! Repent while you’re in the attic! This is what you get for making Rachel upset!” The contractions hurt so much that I clenched my fists to the point that my nails broke, but no one unlocked the door to the attic. My piercing screams echoed in the attic for a long time until my whole body was soaked in blood, and one of my babies was stuck between my bloody legs. Three days later, my husband ate his breakfast that was not up to his taste and said, “Have Jane make breakfast for me, then have her apologize to Rachel with a gift. If she’s sincere enough, I’ll send her to the hospital to deliver the babies.” But no one dared go up to the attic because the blood that flowed down from it had already reached the second step of the stairs.

"Ames, darling, you worry me." Linc Tanner, my billionaire stepfather breathes into the phone, and heat rises to my face at that damn nickname. That nickname coming out from his forbidden lips, capable of making my toes curl, my knees bent before him, taking all of him deep into my throat. ♠︎ ♠︎ ♠︎ The first day she came in contact with her stepfather, Amelia felt something shift in the air. Linc exudes menace. There's something about him that overwhelmed her. As the years passed—she found this magnetism toward him. It drew her in so deeply that despite knowing how wrong it was to find her stepfather attractive and lust after him, she couldn’t talk herself out of it. It was every shade of wrong. She should’ve been disgusted. Her pussy still clenched every time she thought about him, the way he looks at her, those dark eyes filled with a ring of lust and primal hunger. It melted her, it soaked her. It drenched her. When Amelia received a call to intern in her billionaire stepfather's company throughout the summer break, Amelia is terrified of what awaits her back in his New York City mansion where just three years ago after her mother's death and till now, she had been fighting against her treacherous feelings for him. He's been the only object of her wildest fantasies. Oh, the things she had thought about him doing to her, they were illicit. Filthy. Completely taboo. But Amelia is determined not to let her secret attraction override her judgments. Only if Linc would share the same resolve. She got the shock of her life when he didn't, and that is where the lines get blurrier for them.

Eli Ashcroft is an Omega whose scent is so faint it is almost nonexistent. His first mate, Elric, betrays him by cheating with Eli’s own Omega best friend, Liam. The double betrayal destroys their bond, shatters Eli’s trust, and leaves him emotionally numb just as his father becomes gravely ill and medical bills begin to suffocate him. With no other choice left, Eli accepts an absurd solution: a contract marriage. His husband is Lucen Blackthorne, the most powerful and feared Alpha in the region. To the pack, the reason for Lucen’s choice is cruelly obvious. Eli bears an uncanny resemblance to his late older brother, Elion, the Omega rumored to be Lucen’s lost mate. The contract is mercilessly clear—three years as a substitute to stabilize Lucen’s unstable wolf, generous payment, then a clean separation with nothing owed. For three years, Eli survives by erasing himself. He suppresses his scent, mimics his brother’s habits, believing imitation is the only reason he is tolerated. When Lucen’s wolf writhes under grief, Eli comforts it quietly, never expecting affection meant for him. Lucen shields him during full moons and touches him with restrained care, yet his golden eyes always seem to look past Eli, searching for someone else. That silent distance hurts more than betrayal ever did. When the contract ends, Eli returns it calmly and prepares to leave, telling Lucen he is finally free. He expects indifference. Instead, Lucen’s control snaps. Alpha pheromones crash down as Lucen tears the contract apart and pulls Eli into his arms, his wolf roaring through his voice as his fangs brush Eli’s nape. “Leave?” Lucen growls softly. “My little wolf… your scent has soaked into my den for three years. And now you want to run? Too late.”

The day before my wedding, I went to our cathedral early to get familiar with the place. Instead, I found my fiancé and my stepsister, Isabella fucking on the altar. Our altar. I caught them. He didn't even apologize and just threw me out into the storm. I collapsed in the pouring rain. That’s when he found me. Alistair, the Vampire Prince. He moved like a god through the storm. He pulled me from the mud, and gave me a palace. He told the world I was his soulmate. The one he’d spent centuries searching for. His one and only. For five years, his devotion made me the envy of the supernatural world. I thought I was the one exception in his eternal life. Until I found his secret room. My fingers brushed against an ancient scroll. The script was written in blood. The first line was her name: Isabella. Beneath it, in Alistair's own hand: “Absolute priority. Above all else.” Underneath was a healer's log I’d never seen before. A vampire's healing log. The date was from the night I found out I was pregnant. The night I was attacked by werewolves. They brought me back to the castle, covered in blood. The healers never came for me. I woke up alone. The baby was gone. Our child. His blood, my blood—gone. And my clothes were soaked in what was left of it. I cleaned every trace of it. When he came home, I broke down in his arms. I never told him. I couldn’t bear for him to feel the pain I felt. Now I understood. That same night, Isabella was also being attacked by werewolves. And Alistair’s order to his council was: “Send every healer. Isabella is the priority.” My heart stopped. Despair was a poison in my veins. “If I was never the one... then you can keep your eternity. I want no part of it.”

"You don’t know what you’re playing with." He murmured, His hand traced a slow path down my arm, fingers firm but deliberate, sending a shiver straight to my core. "You are scared" “I’m not.” I whispered. He smiled. “You should be.” Before I could think, he closed the distance, his lips crashing onto mine, rough, urgent, claiming and fierce, consuming fire of his touch. "I can't stop. I don't won't to." Then he claimed my lips again. And soon, my lips moved. I was kissing back. This shouldn’t be happening. Just then footsteps echoed. “Rylan—stop, someone’s coming—” But his hands only gripped my waist tighter, holding me still. he whispered. “Let them. I don’t care.” then his lips crashed against mine, harder. I tried turning away but he grabbed my neck and stuck his tongue into my mouth. "Rylan please." my eyes dart to the door. "Stop." I struggled. His hand slipped down to grab my ass. Squeezing it tightly. "If you weren't wearing a jean, I would have stuck my fingers right into your holes. Fuck." He hissed then continued. A light knock sounded at the door followed by the twisting handle. No! ★ Some-secrets are born in fire... and some desires, forged in darkness. Alyssa Milano carries a past she can’t outrun-one soaked in blood, silence, and a secret that could ruin her. At fifteen, her innocence was stolen. Rylan Russo is danger, ruthless, powerful, and used to getting what he wants. When he sets sights on Alyssa, their worlds collide in a storm of obsession and desire. Is this a love story tocall? In a world where trust is poison and passion is a weapon, Alyssa must choose her path. A dark, twisted romance where survival comes at a cost.

Warning VIEWER’S DISCRETION IS ADVISED. If you're not into raw, filthy BDSM, dominant alphas, submissive sluts, deep throat gagging or relentless multiple orgasms, then close this now. But if the thought of being used hard and without mercy makes your thighs clench… I dare you to keep reading. “On your knees, pet,” Master Kane growled, his leather belt already looped in his hand. I dropped instantly, mouth watering, ass raised high like the obedient little whore he’d trained me to be. The cold floor bit into my skin, but the sting only made me wetter. He stepped closer, unzipped slowly, and fed his thick, throbbing cock between my lips until I gagged—tears streaming, mascara running, just the way he liked. “Good girl,” he praised, fisting my hair and f**king my throat deeper. “You take it so well for a slut who begged me not to stop last time.” I whimpered around him, my pussy clenching emptily, already soaked and ready for whatever punishment came next. He pulled out suddenly, strings of spit connecting us, and flipped me onto the table—wrists bound tight with his belt, legs spread wide. One brutal thrust and he was buried balls-deep in my ass, no warning, no mercy. I screamed. He laughed. And he didn’t stop until I was sobbing his name, coming hard around the invasion I craved. I’m his employee by day. His collared f**ktoy by night. If anyone at the office ever found out how I beg my boss to ruin me… I’d be fired. He’d be ruined. But when he owns every hole like this, how could I ever say no? Ready to watch her break and beg for more? Dive in… if you dare.