Straight Jacket

Travis Villaflor is a hotshot business magnate who seemingly has it all: Olympian god-like looks, wealth, fame, and power. Women flock to him, yet he remains loyal to his first love, his girlfriend, Cathyrine Reva. Raine Montemayor has long been in love with his brother’s friend, Travis. He gave him his body, soul, and heart, confessing his love, only to be seen by Travis as the little brother he never had—insisting he was “as straight as an arrow.” Heartbroken, Raine decided to fly to Canada to heal his wounded heart. But upon Raine’s return to the Philippines, Travis never expected things to change. This was no longer the cheerful fifteen years old boy who had given him everything and was rejected when he was twenty-five. Now, Raine is a handsome and sophisticated man, desired by everyone, women and men alike. Every glance from Raine ignites a burning desire in Travis, a fire that spreads through his entire being. But it feels so wrong because he has a girlfriend and claims to love her or does he? On top of that, he keeps insisting that he’s straight. But does he really mean it? Will Travis give in to the scorching temptation that Raine now represents? And will the flames of desire between them ignite once more?

The day I win the cheerleading championship, the entire arena erupts with cheers for my team. But from the stands, my brother, Nelson Locke, hurls a water bottle straight at me. "You injured Felicia's leg before the performance just so you could win first place? She has leukemia, Victoria! Her dying wish is to become a champion. Yet you tripped her before the competition, all for a trophy! You're selfish. I don't have a sister like you!" My fiance, who also happens to be the sponsor of the competition, steps onto the stage with a cold expression and announces, "You tested positive for illegal substances. You don't deserve this title. You're disqualified." All the fans turn against me. They boycott me entirely—some even go so far as to create a fake memorial portrait of me, print it, and send it to my doorstep. I quietly keep the photo. I'll probably need it soon anyway. It's been three years since I was diagnosed with a malignant brain tumor. Knowing I don't have much time left, I choose to become the type of person they always wanted me to be—the perfect sister who loves without question, the well-mannered woman who knows when to keep quiet, and the kind of person who never, ever lies.

The room is dimly lit, the air is filled with the smell of sex and alcohol; the guy laying next to the girl is panting heavily. She on the other hand is laying next to him, all curled up; soft whimpers are coming out of her lips. The guy wraps his muscular arms around her waist and pushes her a little away from him. She opens her eyes halfway through and stares at the guy, his hair sticking to his forehead due to the sweat; his dark brown eyes are closed. His sharp features are glistening, when the little rays of the sun hits his face that is coming in through the window. Forwarding her hand, she caresses his thin lower lip with her index finger and closes her eyes. "Get out." He says in a harsh tone from beside her. Her eyes flutter open completely hearing his harsh words; she always thinks why he acts so badly with her? Retracting her hand back to herself she sits up, her lower belly aches in the bitter sweet pain. A groan comes out of her mouth and her hands go straight to on top of her lower belly, to caress it. His clothes and hers are scattered around on the floor. The entire room is a mess, the bed sheet is all crinkled; pillows are off the bed.

Disclaimer: Mature Audience Only! This book is specifically designed to be viewed by adults and therefore may be unsuitable for children under 18. This book may contain one or more of the following: crude indecent language, explicit sexual activity. “When passion takes control, nothing stays innocent.” Some cravings are too sinful to confess, too dangerous to speak aloud. '𝐒𝐈𝐍𝐍𝐄𝐑𝐒 𝐓𝐎𝐎 𝐍𝐄𝐄𝐃 𝐓𝐎 𝐓𝐄𝐋𝐋 𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐈𝐑 𝐒𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐈𝐄𝐒' which are whispered in the dark, written between trembling thighs, and etched in the silence after desire has burned through reason. Every fantasy in these pages is a secret you shouldn’t want, yet can’t resist. Every character is temptation draped in silk and sin. Every ending leaves you aching for just one more taste. There are desires you bury deep, the kind that scorch your soul with shame and hunger in equal measure. But sins don’t stay silent forever, they claw their way out, whispered in the dark, confessed with trembling lips, and written in the heat between forbidden bodies. 'Forbidden Romance Tales' dives straight into those steamy, secret affair where every touch and glance is electrified with forbidden desire. It's all about indulging in those hidden cravings with no boundaries, where pleasure knows no limits and desire is the only rule. When desire takes over, can love truly follow?

“Make love to me.” I pleaded. I wasn’t thinking straight and I was only doing this to get back at Benjamin but the way Saint was currently looking at me did not help with my decision making. “Make love to you?” He repeated. He was probably baffled seeing as I was dating his nephew. “Yes.” I didn’t back down. Saint took a few steps closer to me, making me falter. Was he finally going to throw me out of his room for talking such nonsense? I held my breath as I waited for the inevitable rejection. “I don’t make love, mia cara. I fuck.” ~•~ When Adriana Jensen catches her boyfriend cheating on her with her best friend, her first idea is to get back at him by sleeping with his uncle, Saint, but when she is rejected by him, she sees it as a challenge and stops at nothing to make him break before their trip is over. Saint Rossi has no business lusting after his nephew’s girlfriend but he cannot help his obsession, especially after she boldly gives herself to him. He tries his best to stay away from her because she is too good to be brought into his darkness, but it seems like fate had other plans for the pair.

A Filthy One-Shot Collection One hundred nights. One hundred different ways to break every rule you were ever taught. Inside these pages, innocent brats become dripping, begging sluts for the one man they’re never supposed to want: the stepbrother who bets he can ruin her, the mafia don who claims her virginity as payment, the priest who bends her over the altar after confession, the professor who locks the lecture hall and teaches her what an A really costs. They hate them. They crave them. They spread wide and take every thick, forbidden inch anyway. Stepfathers, stepbrothers, best friend’s dads, rival gang leaders, werewolf alphas, demon summoners, and the coach who said “no dating players” while he’s balls-deep in the cheerleader he swore he’d never touch. Rough breeding, brutal spankings, choking, spitting, tears, squirting, double penetration, public degradation, and cum so filthy it leaks for days. No feelings. No apologies. Just one hundred nights of raw, ruthless, unapologetic sin, where “no” turns into “harder” and “please stop” becomes “don’t you fucking dare.” Open the book. Pick a night. You won’t walk straight when it’s over.

For five years, Marco Falcone was the perfect man. Or so I thought. The illusion shattered on the night of our engagement party, when his mistress crashed it, a five-year-old boy in tow. The boy ran straight to Marco, crying, "Daddy! Daddy, I finally found you!" It had to be some kind of sick joke. But then Marco turned to me, his voice stripped of all warmth. "This is my son, Leo. A… mistake Sofia and I made five years ago." "Leo is the Falcone heir. I have to legitimize them. That means I'll be engaged to Sofia first." "But Lydia, believe me, I still love you. We can have our engagement party in six months. You're going to be the Donna of the Falcone family. I expect you to be generous and understanding. This is non-negotiable." I laughed, a cold, sharp sound, and slid the engagement ring off my finger. My eyes scanned the room and locked on the man in the corner—Lorenzo Moretti, the most powerful Don in New York. He held another title, one only I knew: the man who’d been trying to make me his. "Don Moretti," I called out, my voice clear and steady. "I find myself in need of a new fiancé. Are you interested?"

"You were promised to me, Alessia, not even death can change that." Alessia Capone was born a mafia princess, powerful last name, perfect future and zero control. At just fourteen, her parents sold her into a blood-soaked engagement with Rino Lombardi, the cold, dangerous heir of Italy’s most feared criminal empire. He was obsessed from the moment he saw her. She hated him before he even spoke. To escape that fate, she ran straight into the arms of another man. A man who turned out to be worse than her worst nightmare. Now, decades later, Rino Lombardi is back. Widowed. Ruthless. More powerful than ever. And still maddeningly obsessed with the one woman who got away. He made a vow to himself. If he can’t have her willingly, he’ll burn the world until she begs to come home. But Alessia is no longer the young girl he once knew. She’s a queen in her own right. She’ll never kneel, never submit, not even to the devil she once escaped. ...Or will she? Because the man she swore to hate may be the only one she’s ever truly belonged to. And this time, he’s not asking.

I was on a business trip out of town when I got a text from my neighbor. [Can you and your husband keep it down? Also, one of your undies fell onto my balcony.] Shocked, I opened the photo she had sent. The underwear wasn't even my style, but it matched the one I'd seen in my husband's online shopping cart. He'd told me it was a gift for me, but I remember noticing the size—it was one size larger than mine. When confronted with the neighbor's message, my husband swore that the house must've been broken into and claimed the intruder left the item behind. But something about his story didn't sit right, so I decided to dig further. That was when I stumbled upon his social media. His latest post was just three words. [I bought this.] It was paired with a photo of a lingerie gift set. Beneath it, there was a comment. [I'm wearing it.] Attached was a picture of a woman's legs—and the unmistakable background of my living room. The evidence was undeniable. I packed up the underwear and brought it straight to the police. "My husband says our house was broken into. This was left behind by the intruder, and it might have DNA on it."

I went abroad for three years to build a lab and save my husband's company from collapse. After endless struggles, I finally cracked the technical problems and developed the core technology. When I returned home with that breakthrough, I saw the airport video board plastered with the same impossible headline—my husband was getting married. I felt a hot, furious ache and took a taxi straight to the venue. … A woman who had cared for our household for years blocked me at the gate and sneered. "Who do you think you are, showing up at the Stone family's wedding? Get out of here, or I'll get security to throw you out." For a moment, I stood rooted, but then the bride appeared, walking out of the villa in a wedding gown. It was the woman Adrian Stone had once told me was dead—his first love, Evelyn Sutton. She wore my wedding ring on her finger and looked at me with pure contempt. "You want to make a scene at my wedding?" she said. "If you do, you're really asking for trouble. My husband, Adrian, won't hesitate to take care of you." I folded my arms and let out a cold laugh. "Adrian's getting married? Funny, I don't recall getting an invitation."