Style Smut Novels & Stories

Note: This book has two stand-alone stories with happy endings. If Book 1 isn’t your style, jump to Book 2 at Chapter 69! BOOK 1: Adrian & Emily Blackwood "You look like a beggar; don’t bother me," Adrian Blackwood sneered when Emily St. Claire bumped into him after learning her husband cheated with his pregnant ex-fiancée. Little did Adrian know, he'd one day beg this hot divorcee for love. Emily thought she had it all—until she walked in on her husband moaning another woman’s name on their fifth anniversary. Shattered but not broken, she vows to dismantle the empire he built on lies. Enter Adrian Blackwood—the ruthless billionaire who bends the world to his will. “I’ll let you drain me dry,” Emily tells him, determined to reclaim her life and get revenge. But as passion ignites, revenge takes a back seat to redemption. Will their dark pasts consume them, or can they find love amid the chaos? BOOK 2: Vincent & Claire Everglow “I gave you everything,” Claire whispered, clutching her belly as the TV announced Vincent Everglow’s engagement to the world’s sweetheart, Layla Vanroe. Two weeks ago, Vincent knelt before her with a promise ring. “When I’m ready, I’ll marry you,” he said. But now, Claire is pregnant and alone, discarded like a secret. Vincent’s betrayal cut deep, but Claire swore to move on. So why does her heart betray her when their paths cross again? Why does Layla seem desperate to keep them apart? Love doesn’t follow rules, but when lies and betrayal threaten their fragile bond, Claire and Vincent must decide: will they fight for each other or walk away forever!

WARNING: HEAVY SMUT AHEAD!!! Mature audiences only! Proceed with caution! ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ “Please,” she whispered, desperation cracking her voice. “Please, Chase.”   “Begging already?” His voice was cruel, his fingers circling faster, pushing her to the edge. “I'm not even nearly done with you yet.”   She squeezed her eyes shut, the recruit’s muffled cries and the whip’s crack filling her ears, amplifying her need. Chase’s fingers were relentless, stroking her clit, and dipping inside just enough to tease.   “Please,” she whimpered, louder now, her hands gripping his shoulders. “I’m sorry. I won’t lie again. I’ll be good. Please, let me cum.”   He chuckled, his lips brushing her neck. “Not yet, baby. Fight it.”   Her body screamed, every nerve on fire, the recruit’s struggles mirroring her own. The girl’s master groaned, close to release, as Lila’s whip landed again and again on her ass.   Emma’s head felt like it was about to explode under the pressure, her thighs shook with the effort to conceal it, her pleas spilling out. “Please, Chase, I can’t hold it any longer… I need it."   "Don't. You. Dare. Come." ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ Picture this: A CEO pinning his partner's daughter over his desk, whispering rules that chain her soul while his cock claims her body. Or a werewolf's claws raking skin in the moonlit woods, rutting her senseless till she's howling his name. We mix it up... sweet, slow-burn romances that melt into tender fucks and whispered "I love yous," flipping to the dark side with BDSM bites, non-con edges that blur fear into filthy want, and horror vibes where ghosts fuck you cold then hot. Your panties? Ruined. Your cravings? Fed. And yet, you'll still be here begging for more. Dive in if you're brave enough.

My boyfriend got a tenure-track offer from Ashford University—and the night he found out, he cried in my arms for hours. Before he left the country, he held my hand, looking guilty. "Babe, the cost of living over there is insane, and you probably won't be able to find a decent job. Once I get settled, I'll bring you over in style…" He paused, waiting for me to appreciate how "considerate" he was being. What he didn't know was that just half an hour earlier, I'd overheard him on the balcony. "Don't worry, the tickets are booked. We're going together. No way I'm leaving you behind." On the other end of the line was his gentle, sweet junior. He'd spent years looking down on my education, always saying I couldn't understand his "soul." But every time I handed him my tips from waiting tables and delivering takeout—stained envelopes, greasy and crumpled—he'd take them like he was doing me a favor. What he also didn't know was that I'd long since gotten tired of playing the "I'll work to put you through school" bit. I only started dating him because he was cute—I wanted a little thrill. I just didn't expect to keep the act going for three years. And for a second here and there, I almost believed it myself. I was already looking for an excuse to dump him. Then he handed me one on a silver platter. So when he gave his little speech, I barely held back a smile as I fixed his collar. "Okay. Then take good care of yourself over there. I'm gonna be late for my night shift. Gotta go." I turned around and called my best friend. "Book me a table at VIVA tonight. I'm single again—time to party."

I had just climbed into the armored SUV leaving the Moretti estate when the gatekeeper hurried after me with a black encrypted phone in his hand. "Mrs. Westmore, Don Moretti asked me to give you this." I took it. One unread message glowed on the screen. [Selena only had a scare. I'll come home tomorrow. Don't overthink it.] I stared at it for two seconds, popped out the SIM card, snapped it in half, and tossed it into the rain outside the window. The next day, I had just reached the abandoned shipyard in North Harbor when encrypted messages started hitting my backup phone one after another. [Vivian, where are you?] [Why aren't you home? Where the hell did you go this late?] [Answer me. Don't make me send men all over the city looking for you.] The last one was exactly his style: soft on the surface, arrogant underneath. [Your family survives under my protection. Don't test my patience.] I didn't answer. After countless messages sank without a reply, my husband finally drove to the old Westmore grounds at North Harbor. He knew that if anything was left of my family, I would be there. But when Damon pushed through the broken iron gate, he found no guards, no household staff, and no Westmore men waiting for orders. The old house stood hollow in the rain. Its windows were blown out, the front steps were black with soot, and the air still carried the bitter smell of smoke and gunpowder. Damon grabbed a passing harbor guard by the sleeve. "Where are the Westmores?" The guard looked at him as if he should already know. "Gone. The family was hit two nights ago. Whoever came for them knew exactly when Moretti protection would be pulled from the harbor." "Miss Westmore came back before dawn," the guard added. "She took the black-gold signet, a few boxes of ledgers, and whatever papers survived the fire." "After that, she left. And no one has seen her since."