Spiderman 2099 Sound Novels & Stories

Before anything else could happen, I stood up from squatting in front of him and walked toward my work table. My hands were shaking, but I tried not to show it. "Now you have time to listen to my proposal," I said firmly, trying to sound confident even though my heart was racing. I picked up the document I had placed there earlier—a simple sheet of paper, but one that could change everything. I held it up for him to see. Yes, kidnapping him had been desperate. But what I was about to offer? Even more so. "You just have to sign this marriage contract," I told him. "If we get married, I can claim my inheritance, solve my problem, and then we’ll let you go." He raised an eyebrow, amused. “And what’s in it for me? I don’t gain anything here. Why should I let you manipulate my life like that?” I clenched my fists. "You’re my hostage! Your freedom depends on me. You have no choice but to do what I say!" I snapped, voice rising with frustration. As soon as I said it, regret washed over me. I sounded like a child throwing a tantrum, and I saw it in his eyes—disappointment. Disgust. “I already have a fiancée, Kourtney. We’re getting married soon. I can’t marry you,” he said with finality. Of course I knew. I knew everything about him. I kept tabs on his life not because I wanted to, but because I had to. “I love her,” he continued. “And if I ever get married, it’s going to be with the woman I love. That’s Kim.” I bit my lower lip to stop the trembling. I was humiliated… but worse, I was heartbroken.

Bellatrix Sinclair, an 18-year-old weapons prodigy that despises werewolves for destroying her family has been secretly planning to join the human rebellion. However, she is forced into the Mate Selection Process and matched with Lazarus De Loughrey, the ruthless Werewolf King obsessed with claiming her. He shouldn't want her and she should hate him but they cannot resist each other. It's a twisted connection, entirely physical because all I am is his slave. My heart should belong to my best friend Emmett, a human. Atleast the guilt of betrayal wouldn't be eating away at my insides. ___________________________ “Yes please.” She begs. “Then fucking let me in.” I growled, this fury exploding with vengeance. I wanted to destroy her pussy. It was maddening, it was sickening, it was barbaric. But I never claimed to be saint. “Here that baby, that’s the sound of your greedy pussy sucking on my cock. Give me more, drench me.” “Lazarus.” She moans painfully, “Please let me come.” I’m doused in gasoline and set alight, sweat coats my skin as I pound into her faster and harder. I’m definitely hurting her, “Wanna come?” I rasped, “Not until I say so.” Pressing my lips onto hers, pushing my tongue into her mouth until I feel the sweetness of hers. The kiss is sloppy and filthy. She cries as I drive my cock into her, the intensity too much to handle, sweet tears sliding onto her cheeks. “Fuck yes.” I smile sadistically, licking her tears. “Cry for me Ma Cherie.” “Please, please let me come My King.” She pleads. “Say it again.” Lightening shooting down my spine as she begged, “My King, please let me come. I’ll be good.” I chuckled, “Try your luck to kill me Ma Cherie, I dare you.”

“You wear these little skirts… are you trying to seduce me?” His eyes dragged down my body. “I—I don’t know what you’re talking about” Before I could finish, his hand slid up my thigh, fingers brushing beneath the edge of my skirt. My breath hitched. He shoved my panties aside and pressed two thick fingers inside me. “Ahh. . . Kelvin. .” My knees buckled against the sink as he started slow, then thrust rougher, stretching me with every push. “You like that, baby girl?” he whispered against my lips. “Yes… oh God, yes.” His mouth hovered over mine, stealing the sound of my moans before he spun me around to face the mirror. My own reflection stared back at me wide eyes, flushed cheeks while Kelvin loomed behind, his heat swallowing me whole. “Watch while I fuck you,” he growled, shoving down his zipper. The heavy length of him slammed into me in one rough stroke, knocking the air from my lungs. “F-fuck!” I cried out, gripping the sink for dear life. He yanked my hair back, forcing me to look at myself as he pounded into me. “Be my slut today.” Dripping Wet is a collection of straight-up filthy stories about raw, no-limits sex. Bodies crashing together in hard fucks. Holes stretched wide, throats used rough, sheets drenched in cum and sweat. Each one dives deep into pure hunger, cocks slamming in deep, pussies taking it hard, asses getting claimed with no mercy. All the taboo stuff you crave, laid out in brutal detail. No romance. No sweet talk. Just hard, wet, pounding sex that leaves you spent. This book isn't about love. It's about need and giving in until you're soaked.

On our seventh wedding anniversary, my wife, Blair, the daughter of the city's richest man, straddled my lap, her kiss deep and intoxicating as she toyed with my lower lip. The same night, we just announced our pregnancy to the world. Just then, Blair's best friend, Chloe, asked in French, her tone suggestive: "Blair, you're absolutely glowing. But tell me honestly, how does it feel to get railed by another man while carrying a baby?" Blair let out a soft laugh, a familiar sound that sent a chill down my spine. She replied, also in French: "It feels absolutely incredible, Chloe. He's like a wild wolf. Just yesterday, he had his head buried between my thighs, using his mouth to bring me to tears before taking me so deep I forgot my own name." Her fingers were still toying with my collar, but her gaze was already distant. "But remember, keep this from Kevin. If he finds out what I've been doing behind his back while pregnant, it will be a disaster." The socialite sisters gathered around them shared knowing chuckles, raising their glasses and promising to keep the secret. The warmth in my veins turned to ice. My fervent passion to welcome a new life was instantly reduced to a pathetic joke. They had all forgotten that I spent my childhood in southern France. I understood every single syllable. I forced myself to remain calm, my face fixed in the perfect smile expected of a blissful husband about to welcome his first child, but the hand holding my champagne glass was trembling. I didn't fly into a rage. I didn't smash everything in sight. Instead, I took out my phone, found the invitation I had received a few days prior for the Aegis Agency, a highly classified organization on the other side of the world, and clicked "Accept." In three days, I would vanish from Blair's world.

Her eyes widened in horror. The sound was unmistakable — the snap of a belt buckle, the hiss of it being undone. Then came the crash of fabric hitting stone. Terror exploded in her chest. She struggled violently, chains biting into her wrists until blood slicked her palms. Her chest heaved, heart pounding so hard it hurt. Ezra pressed harder, his knee locking her in place. One hand clenched her throat — not enough to choke, but enough to remind her she could not escape. His breath was ragged, wild, as if possessed. “You feel it too,” he growled against her skin. “Don’t lie to me, Nova. Your body wants this. You want me.” No. No, no, no. Her body burned, but it wasn’t for him. It was the cursed bond, the fire belonging to another. And that other… Her eyes filled with tears. Her lips shaped a silent prayer: Kilian. The bond within her surged like wildfire. Her chest arched, a gasp tearing from her throat. She felt it — claws raking down her soul, a storm breaking in her veins. He was here. He had come for her. *** Nova is a skilled hunter, fierce and independent, yet unaware of her true nature and the extraordinary destiny that awaits her. Humiliated by her fellow hunter colleagues for refusing to kill innocent wolves, she flees — only to be rescued by Kilian, the feared Lycan King. Thrust into his world, she must prove herself and earn her place within his pack, all while navigating the sharp wit, teasing sarcasm, and growing tension between them. Kilian is powerful, commanding, and fiercely protective, yet finds himself drawn to Nova in ways he cannot explain. Their connection develops slowly, charged with banter, challenges, and unacknowledged desire. But Nova is far more special and powerful than anyone could have predicted. Her choices, and the bond she shares with Kilian, will shape the fate of their world — deciding whether to destroy it, or to revolutionize and transform it for the better. As they uncover enemies deeply rooted in their lives, they must rely on their bond, courage, and love to face what comes next.

His gaze met mine, intense and possessive, his lips just an inch away as his lips left my nipple. “Say it, Erica,” he commanded, voice rough. “Say that you belong to me.” I swallowed, my heart pounding so hard I thought it might drown out my thoughts. He held me tightly, his fingers pressing into my skin as if trying to claim every inch of me, refusing to let me escape. “I... I don’t,” I whispered, my voice barely steady, the denial weak even to my own ears. He gave me a dark smile, then continued, his mouth finding my other breast. He sucked lightly, his other hand gripping my waist, making it clear he didn’t plan on letting go. His tongue drew imaginary circles around my nipple, his teeth nipping at my sensitive bud before he sucked it whole again like a starved man. “You don’t?” he murmured against my skin. “Then why haven’t you stopped me?” I opened my mouth to protest, but only a soft sound escaped, my hands tightening on his shoulders as he kept pushing, each suck and touch breaking down my defenses. I let out an ear splitting moan, “Raffael please…” *********** Erica’s world is shattered when she’s forced into a dangerous deal with Raffael Greco, the ruthless crime boss who now owns her. By day, she’s his maid, and by night, she works in his strip club—her body no longer her own. Drawn to the ruthless man who both torments and ignites her, Erica can’t resist the tension simmering between them. Raffael, obsessed with controlling her, finds himself slowly losing control instead. Can Erica survive being Raffael's sinful desire, or will his desires destroy her before she can escape?

"Alex... help… please…" I tried to whisper, but no sound came out. I saw them, Alexander had his arms wrapped around Sophia, who was clutching him like her life depended on it. She was pressed against his chest, her face buried in his neck, and she wasn't letting go. "Don't look at her," Sophia whispered loudly. "You'll only make yourself sick with guilt. This isn't your fault. She did this to herself by being dramatic." That's when I heard the scream. "Oh my God! Mrs. Sterling!" Rosa, one of our housemaids, came rushing into the dining room. "Mrs. Sterling, what happened to you?" Rosa dropped to her knees beside me, her hands fluttering over my body like she didn't know where to start. "You're bleeding! There's so much blood everywhere!” I was bleeding? I couldn't feel anything below my waist anymore, but when I managed to glance down, I saw the dark stain spreading across my dress. "Mr. Alexander!" Rosa shouted, her voice cracking with an anger I’ve never seen in her before. She looked ready to commit murder. Did I look that bad? “Your wife is dying! How can you do this to her? How can you stand there holding another woman while your wife bleeds to death on the floor?!" Rosa snarled. "Rosa, lower your voice," Alexander snapped, but I could hear something different in his tone. Uncertainty. "Take Ivy to the hospital and stop making a scene, or you'll be looking for another job." Rosa shot back, tears streaming down her face. "¡Sos un bueno para nada! What kind of man are you?" I was going to die. Right here on my dining room floor, wearing my mother's blood-stained dress while my husband comforted another woman.

"Don't you love this?" Isobel asked, undoing his pants. Cameron raised her up, pushing her ass on the table. He checked the bottom drawer and realised they were out of condoms. Completely mesmerised, he breath. "We can't do this. You don't want to get pregnant." She leaned closer to his body till her braless tits fell on his chest and her lips touched his ears. "I did something." She whispered. "Won't be giving birth for three months." She said. Cameron shifted back, taking his time to look in her eyes. He wanted to be sure she understood what she had done and was ready for it. Isobel smiled, need masqueraded her eyes. "Are you sure?" She nodded. Dipping her hand in his pants. She gasped as her hand fisted his, thick, hard dick. "I want this." "Good." Cameron said, taking his shirt off. "Because I'm going to fuck you." He roared and that instant, her dress ripped open. She enjoyed the sound of the tear. She enjoyed being vulnerable and naked in front of him. Her nipples hardened and his tongue enveloped it. "You're mine. And I'll make you remember that. Every. Damn. Time." "I know." She whispered, unable to think. Her hand roamed around his body till she felt his gun. Isobel gasped. Cameron held her little fingers, reading the look on her face. He stopped and pulled out without taking his eyes off her body. He spread her legs wide for him. She's so beautiful. That pussy is his. Cameron loaded the gun with a bullet and cocked it. Isobel flinched. The mouth of the gun grazed her pussy in ways she enjoyed. She moaned, biting her lips. He was fucking her with his gun. This is her dream come true.

I cradled Chloe’s newborn, filled with joy and affection. The baby was not blood of mine, yet as Chloe’s best friend, I would love and protect the little one with everything I had. "Sweet boy," I whispered, gently tapping the tip of his nose. "I'm your godmother. No one would ever hurt you." The hospital room was washed in golden afternoon light. Adrian stood by the window in a dark overcoat, his profile sharp against the glass. He looked exactly like the man the whole industry knew: controlled, elegant, untouchable. Hollywood's golden producer. My newlywed husband. Then he said, in a voice as flat as if he were discussing a contract, "He's not your godson. He's my son." For a second, I thought I had misheard him. Maybe I was just exhausted from the wedding, from the endless calls and fittings and congratulations. I almost laughed. But Adrian turned around. A cruel little smile curved his lips. "The child is mine," he said again. My arms tightened around the baby. "The night you got hurt," he went on, "I was with Chloe the whole night. We went through an entire box... apparently this little guy still found a way to arrive." I couldn't move. It felt as if ice water had been poured down my throat. I opened my mouth, but no sound came out. After a long silence, I finally managed to whisper, "But... we only registered our marriage yesterday." Adrian walked over and put an arm around my shoulders, almost gently. His tone was soft, but it carried the kind of condescension people used with a child throwing a tantrum. "Don't worry. Chloe and I were never going to get married. If I had wanted to marry her, I would have done it years ago." He paused, and something almost pleased flashed in his eyes. "Didn't Chloe ever tell you? We had a history. I was her first."

I walked in on my own birthday cake and my sister in my fiancé's bed. Same night, same house, same face as mine — because Noel and I are twins, and she's spent her whole life proving she can take anything that's ever been mine. He hit me for calling her a liar. She smiled when he did it. So I did the one thing neither of them saw coming. I got in my car. I found the nearest bar. I kissed a stranger like he could erase three years in one night. I didn't ask his name. Didn't need it — until it was on every headline in the country the next morning, and I was the scandal standing next to it. Ace Stone doesn't marry for love. He marries because his grandfather's will gave him ninety days and no room to lose his empire to a boardroom full of vultures. I don't marry for money. I marry because my mother's heart won't survive the paperwork it takes to say no. Twenty million dollars. A ring that isn't mine. One rule: don't feel anything real. We were supposed to be better liars than this. Because somewhere between the cameras and the countdown and the ex-fiancé who thinks I'm still his to reclaim, Ace Stone stopped performing. He pulled me off a dark street with his hands shaking harder than mine. He told a nurse I was family. He didn't sound like he was lying. My sister isn't finished with me. She never is. But I've spent my whole life being the "before" to someone else's "after" — too much space, not enough silence, never quite what anyone ordered. I'm done being edited down to fit. He married a scandal. He has no idea what she's about to become.