Spilled Milk

Luke finally agreed to bind with me, urged by his mother Monica on her deathbed. Moonlight spilled through the window, casting a glow on his golden-brown fur. He stood by the bed, his amber wolf eyes deep and seemingly nervous. As soon as he stepped out of the room, his expression returned to its usual calm, and he said to me coldly, "Emma, let's wait a little longer." "I need to bond with Alina first," he continued, his wolf eyes distant, his tone neutral. "Her mother is seriously ill, and I promised her." "What about your mother? She wants to witness our bonding too!" "I have to bond with Alina first. You don't need to worry about my mother’s health," he said, as he effortlessly removed the vow ring Monica had given me from my finger, then turned and walked away. His little wolf followed, its tail wagging happily, showing no sign of reluctance. But as soon as he left, his mother suddenly took a turn for the worse. By the time Monica passed away, I was the only one by her side. Weakly, she squeezed my hand and whispered, "Emma, don’t wait for him anymore. Find someone who truly loves you." Her hand fell limp, and in the quiet darkness, I made two calls. The first was to the church, changing our marking ceremony to a funeral for his mother. The second call was to my best friend. Her brother was the Alpha of another pack, with dark fur and sharp green eyes. "He once said that if I was willing, he would bond with me... Is that promise still valid?" There was a pause on the other end before a deep voice, full of natural authority, came through: "Emma, have you finally figured it out?"

[WARNING: THIS BOOK IS EXTREMELY DARK] - "Hello there, blonde!" A voice drawled, carrying the same disturbing charm that always sent chills down her spine. Scarlet gasped and her eyes widened in absolute terror to find herself staring at the face that haunted her nightmares. Tears spilled down her cheeks as she desperately prayed this was all some twisted dream, that she had died on the operating table rather than wake up to face this monster again. His piercing gaze troubled her soul as it always did. It was after all, a constant reminder of the profound torment he'd inflicted on her that night. "Oh, you're no longer a blonde?" he mused mockingly, lifting one hand to brush the shortened strands of her hair. Scarlet flinched. The hate rolling off him filled her with a sense of immense dread that sparked an internal plea for salvation. She tried to flee but he pounced with lightning speed, effortlessly pinning her beneath him. "Virginity restoration?" He sneered down at her. "You really want to deceive your poor fiancé like this? Make him think he's getting something pure and untouched?" The words hit their marks. Scarlett's mind reeled with horrible thoughts and crushing doubt. "I bet you thought changing your hair would help you hide your shame, didn't you?" The sarcasm in his voice twisted into something darker and more menacing as his expression morphed into the same angry sneer he'd worn on that terrible day he destroyed her life. His other hand seized her chin in a bruising grip, forcing her to meet his cold stare. "Look at me!" He growled. "What's the point of getting all stitched back up if you're still going to be thinking about me every second!"

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.

Warning: 18+ Contains explicit scenes and adult languages featuring hardcore erotica. This book is a collection of stories of steamy irresistible fun , naughty , filthy, office romances and sex with the boss. Get ready to be intrigued and feel the ultimate erotic excitement!!! **** “Before I could say another word, he bent me over the windowsill of his office and gripped the sides of my waist tightly. I responded by grinding back into him, feeling his hardness against me. “I want to fuck you with a view,” he said before thrusting into me finally. I let out a loud moan as I adjusted to his girth. He had filled me up completely, stretching me to accommodate his size. God, it felt so fucking good I immediately began to tremble. Slowly, he began to thrust in and out of me. This angle felt amazing, and I felt like I was about to come already. “I want you to tell me you want this,” he demanded in an urgent voice, as he began to increase his pace. “I want it,” I panted, barely able to string together a fully coherent sentence. “No, try again,” he urged, gripping my sides even harder. He was speaking to me in such a domineering way, I felt he could make me come just by his voice alone. It was what piqued my interest, after all, when he’d spoken to me in his low voice back at the bar. “I want it, Boss,” I moaned. He began to thrust harder. Our ruin didn’t take long after that. Soon, he pulled out of me and spilled his entire load on my back. We came at the same exact time. “God, that was amazing,” I panted, still trying to catch my breath.

“Where have you been, Cosette Blanche Warren?” he whispered darkly. My throat went dry. I could feel his hands roaming down my thighs, his touch possessive. “Someone saw my wife with Franklyn Carrington today,” Yohan continued, his voice deceptively sweet. “Tell me, Mrs. Warren… is that true?” A chill ran through me. His tone wasn’t affectionate—it was laced with something far more dangerous. “Open your eyes.” I jolted at his sudden command and immediately obeyed. My body trembled under the weight of his stare. His fingers curled under my chin, tilting my face closer. Slowly, agonizingly, he licked the corner of my lips before whispering against them. “What did I tell you before, wife?” Tears welled up as I struggled to form words. “I-I’m not allowed to meet…other men,” I stammered. “Hmmm.” His fingers traced lazy circles on my waist before pressing a kiss to my cheek. “Then explain what happened earlier.” “Franklyn is just a friend, Yohan. I-I wasn’t doing anything wro—” “Liar!” he roared. I flinched as tears spilled down my cheeks. A scream tore from my throat when Yohan suddenly lifted me, throwing me onto the bed. My eyes widened in terror as he hovered over me, his expression twisted with something unrecognizable. “No one else can come near you, touch you, or even look at you because you belong to me alone, Cosette Blanche Warren!” His voice was a venomous snarl. “You will never escape me! You will never be happy! Because I won’t allow it!” Then, he laughed. A dark, menacing sound that sent a shiver down my spine. Tears streamed down my face as I squeezed my eyes shut. This was my life now.

After my stepsister, Jennifer Nichols, died in a tragic accident, Julian Asher hated me for ten whole years. He was the youngest star attorney in Vaxton Bay. He was always calm and composed, yet he never once hid his disgust toward me. I gave up everything for him: my education, my family, my friends, even the inheritance I was meant to receive. I stayed by his side through the grueling bar exam and the brutal early days of his career. But all he ever said was, "Miley, if you really want to please me, go ahead and die." The only woman he ever loved in this lifetime was my stepsister. And I realized that far too late. It wasn't until a fire broke out unexpectedly in the courthouse archives and I was trapped upstairs that something changed. Julian ran in to save me. The blaze devoured everything in its path. In the end, he shoved me out of the rubble. The collapsing steel beams crashed down on him. Blood spilled everywhere. Outside the operating room, I fell to my knees, begging the heavens to let him live. Before he died, he left me one final message with the doctor. "Miley, I hope we never meet again in the next life." At his funeral, his mother slapped me hard across the face—again and again. "You're a cursed wretch. Killing Jennifer wasn't enough for you; now you've killed my son too. I never should've agreed to let Julian marry you." His father dragged me to my knees by my hair, forcing me to kneel. "This is all my fault. I was too soft-hearted. Julian saved you three times, and all you ever brought him was misery!" Everyone believed I was the reason Julian died. And deep down, I believed it too. In the end, I slit my wrists and took my own life—only to awaken back in university, at the very moment we was supposed to get engaged. This time, I made a choice. I would not chase after him again. I would step aside and let him be with the one he loved most—my stepsister, Jennifer.