Spirit Fingers

Beatrice is back to face her greatest threat since. . .well, the last time! In Cooper’s Cove a hapless team of archaeologists unleash the vengeful spirit of a 16th Century witch on the sleepy seaside town of Dorsal Finn. Hexes and curses fly as Beatrice and her friends must find out what links the appearance of this incredible foe and The Spirit of the Ocean, a super-yacht hosting the biggest celebrity charity event the town has ever seen. As the population of Dorsal Finn succumbs to witchcraft, so Beatrice must gate-crash the party with her motley-crew of friends and allies in the hope of stopping the witch's sinister plan, and save everyone from endless oblivion. . . Again. ©️ Crystal Lake Publishing

“You look perfect like this,” one whispered, fingers down my thigh. “I wondered if you really killed her, did you?” Cuffed, wrists above my head, legs bare and open, one ran a flogger over my belly. I arched back, gasping. Another leaned in, breath hot at my neck. The third stood at the edge of the bed, watching me squirm. “We don’t even need to touch you to make you beg.” Then he finally did, he slipped two fingers straight between my legs, slow and deep. “Oh my god,” I moaned, hips bucking. “You’re this wet already?” he growled, curling his fingers inside me. “And we haven’t even started fucking you yet.” The one at my neck licked a trail down to my collarbone. “You killed her. Admit it.” I shook my head, but my body gave me away. My legs were shaking. I was clenching around his fingers like I’d never been touched before. "I didn't do it." I moaned again “Say whose hole this is,” he demanded. “M-mine—” The flogger struck my thigh. “Try again." I looked up, breathless. “Yours. Fuck. It’s yours.” ******** Chloe was sent to Nightshade Academy, the same elite school where her sister allegedly took her own life. To earn her father’s approval and uncover the truth, she had no choice but to go. Now, after another student is found dead, Chloe was the prime suspect due to the circumstances surrounding the death. Tied by an unbreakable bond to the three Alpha triplets sent to catch the killer. Now, Chloe is caught in their dangerous web. Worse? She’s mated to all three who are determined to make her accept to the crime.

"Why can't I have both of you at the same time!" I shot, glaring at him. I tried to be softer with him, but he made it harder. He froze for a second, searching my face before taking my hand and stroking his thumb gently on the back. "Not so fast, pussy cat," he whispered in my ear, his free hand on my neck, pinning me head against his shoulder. "I need your cunt to get used to me to the point that you cannot satisfy yourself no matter how much you touch yourself. Only we would be able to make you cum from now on, whether you like it or not. Your cunt will only obey us because it belongs to us like all of you. Every time you need to cum, you'd have to come to us. You'd have to depend on us, giving your freedom of cumming only to us," he told me, working his fingers and hand faster. I was drenched with my wetness, and my walls were begging his fingers to let them clench, but no, he continued. TRIGGER WARNING: This is a dark romance story, so keep your fingers ready. Keep the lights low. Get your mind energized, and Baby? Let me know if you get caught up in this story. This book is rated 18+.

Ever since birth, life has not been fair to Hazel, she met Andrea in college, and it was quite the wind whirl romance; her past came knocking with ugly fingers, and they had to part ways; Hazel left Andrea with a broken heart and a secret of her own.

I was diagnosed with Neurogenic Wolf Spirit Atrophy. In half a month, I would be dead. The day I received the diagnosis, I decided to give up treatment and donate my body to the Central Research Institute after my death. Through the mind link, I reached out to my brother, whom I hadn’t seen in six years, hoping he would help me sign the papers. He sneered and cut off the link without any hesitation. With the Spirit Severance Donation Contract, a formal waiver of my right to have my wolf spirit returned to my pack's sacred grounds after death, I crossed countless territories alone to the high-ranking city where he resided. He had been promoted to commander of the Silverfang Patrol, basking in glory. He casually signed the document without even looking at me, then said with chilling indifference, “Don’t ever come to me again. Given how ungrateful you are, I can't be bothered to give you a proper burial." I nodded lightly. “I understand.” He did not know that the money for his treatments in the past years had come from me. Now, there were only seven days left until my death.

Sara's legs straddling Austin's lap, their lips clashed in a fierce, passionate kiss. The sound of their lips meeting was like a spark, igniting a flame that threatened to consume them. "Mmm," Sara murmured, her lips vibrating against Austin's. "I hate you," Austin growled, his hands grasping her hips, pulling her closer. His fingers dug into her skin, sending shivers down her spine. Sara's hands were just as busy, her fingers tracing the lines of Austin's face, her thumbs brushing against his lips. "I hate you too," she whispered, her voice barely audible over the sound of their kissing. Their lips parted for a moment, and Austin's tongue darted out, tracing the curve of Sara's lower lip. She moaned, her hands tangling in his hair, pulling him closer. Sara's hands began to roam, her fingers tracing the contours of Austin's chest. She reached for the hem of his shirt, pulling it up and over his head. As she exposed his chest, Austin's eyes locked onto hers, a warning flashing in their depths. "You'll hate me tomorrow," he said, his voice low and rough. Sara's eyes flashed with defiance, her hands continuing to explore Austin's chest. "We don't like each other anyway," she said, her voice husky with desire.

A Biker/Billionaire/Mafia Romance With my fingers gliding across his flesh, I kept contact as I moved around to his back and across the broad expanse between each shoulder. Afterward, I ran my fingers in a soft caress over the nape of his neck—God, how I'd always wanted to touch him in this way—and then began making my way over to the opposite shoulder, shortly coming around to his collarbone. Afterward, with a pivot of my fingertips, and practiced turns of my feet, I came a full one hundred and eighty degrees, facing him again. As I gazed into his eyes, my breathing increased, and I felt myself give a small pant as I moved my fingers down to his chest... Shattered-Way down we Go" - A heart-wrenching tango of love, loss, and redemption unfolds as Marlowe Mills, the daughter of the president for The Sons of Morning Star MC, is secretly in love with Torin Montero, a member of her father's MC, who becomes her father's rival and her silent protector. However her love is torn apart by a brutal betrayal. When the embers of their past reignite, Marlowe finds herself in the treacherous embrace of a Mob boss's son, entangled in a web of obsession and danger. But fate has a twist in store: Torin lives, scarred and driven by his own vendetta. As the lines between love and vengeance blur, Marlowe must choose between the comfort of the shadows or the tumultuous dance of destiny.

Holly is on the run, she knows the Chasers track her by night. To stay ahead of them she needs to push herself far away from where she has been resting.Her cabbit companion is at her side willing to help, but things get strange when a new person arrives and tells Holly that she has an important fate. Holly takes this news in stride until she finds out the Chasers have been sent to deliver her to one of the four horsemen.Fortunately for Holly, her spirit seems to draw some of the Chasers to her side, but will her kind spirit be enough when all four horsemen descend to try to capture her, and even worse when the King of Hell himself sets his sights on her?

Poetry and all, to inspire and to create, to give people spirit that they love, to give back something they lost and they missing in their live. Keep writing and keep on reading. We are exist for you and your desired to keep writing and reading story.

When I received two distinct fingers in a small box with no return label in my P.O box, revenge was my only source of finality, as my own life was on a time limit. Cracking down on the killers was my only thought, even if it was, my last.