Novel & Cerita Tablet Lap Pillow

Step into the shadows where the lines between right and wrong blur into pure, pulsing pleasure… The **Raw Ecstasy Chronicles** is a sinful collection of standalone taboo erotica that dares to explore the most forbidden desires. Each scorching book drags you into a world where age gaps burn hotter, family ties twist into obsession, sacred vows shatter under lust, and power imbalances ignite the filthiest surrender. From a naughty mall elf on Santa’s lap to a grieving stepdaughter claimed in her childhood bed… from a devout parishioner tasting heaven between a nun’s thighs to a captive mafia princess spit-roasted as payment… every story drips with heart-pounding risk, breathless tension, and raw, unfiltered ecstasy. These are the lovers society condemns, the touches no one should crave, the secrets that could destroy everything—yet feel so damn good they’ll ruin you in the best way. If you’ve ever fantasized about the one person you’re not supposed to want… If “we shouldn’t” only makes you wetter… If forbidden feels like freedom… Welcome to the **Raw Ecstasy Chronicles**. One taboo at a time, we’ll set your fantasies on fire. Warning: Extremely explicit. 18+ only. Proceed at your own delicious risk.

Rivergate's most elite social circle had always shared an unspoken rule. Men were free to play the field as they pleased, drifting from one woman to the next. Women, on the other hand, were only allowed a single, discreet indulgence on the day they came of age—a privately hired "life assistant" meant to take care of their physical needs. … On my coming-of-age day, I picked Elliot at first glance from a hundred applicants who came in for interviews. He wore gold-rimmed glasses, looked composed and restrained, and carried himself with a calm maturity that set him apart. He was steady, meticulous, and obsessively clean. The only condition he agreed to was that there would be no bodily contact—hands only. And after every encounter, he would scrub his hands with disinfectant alcohol a hundred times. Over five years, the empty bottles alone were enough to circle the villa seven times. I used to think that one day, I'd help him overcome his barriers and truly make him mine. That illusion shattered the night I got drunk and accidentally wandered into Elliot's room. Hidden beneath his pillow was a DV camera, and inside were several videos of him pleasuring himself. On the screen, the same man who had always been calm and rational with me was staring at the lingerie of the adopted sister who had caused my mother's death, his Adam's apple bobbing as he moaned her name, "Chloe… I love you…" Only then did I realize that every step he had taken toward me had never been about me at all. It had always been a carefully concealed, long-nurtured love for her. So, it was very odd that he cried when I took my adopted sister's place in marrying someone else.

“Next question.” His eyes locked on her. He was close. Too close. Emily raised the tablet between them. “If your brand—” Scott pressed down on the tablet. Emily backed into the desk. Nowhere left to go. Scott placed his hands on either side of her, caging her in. His face inches from hers. “Scott—” “Next question.” His voice was rough. Emily’s breath caught. Heat flooded her body. “If your brand was a person,” she whispered, “how would you describe her—them?” His eyes dropped to her lips. “Resilient.” His thumb traced her jawline. “Beautiful.” His breath warmed her skin. “Irresistible.” The word hung between them. Emily’s heart pounded. One movement—one inch—and his lips would touch hers. She wanted it. God, she wanted it. “I should go.” Her voice shook. Scott’s jaw clenched. But he didn’t move. “The contract says no physical contact.” His blue eyes burned into hers. “It doesn’t say anything about wanting to.” Emily’s arranged marriage to Ian Hunter was a transaction—his family’s money for her father’s freedom. For three years, she endured his coldness, his cruelty, his mistress. The day his grandmother died, Ian filed for divorce and walked away with everything. Emily’s business collapsed. Ian’s empire grew. Now, she’s desperate enough to make a deal with the devil’s half-brother. Scott Hunter is pitched against his half-brother to claim his billion-dollar inheritance. One of the three requirements is a wife. Emily needs capital to rebuild—and revenge on the man who destroyed her. It shouldn't be. It's unheard of. It's supposed to be a simple contract: one year of marriage, no feelings, no complications. Except Scott can’t stop touching her. And Emily realizes she’s stopped pretending.

Amelia Montgomery is one of Rosewood High's cheerleaders along with her best friend Stella Hayes. Her and Stella have been friends ever since kindergarten when Amelia fell off the monkey bars and Stella helped her up afterwards. Stella has a brother named Easton Hayes and he has always teased Amelia since she was seven. They both agreed that they thought he was a heartless prick who treats girls like rubbish. One Friday night Amelia decided to go to a party. At the party Amelia ends up slipping and falling into her worst enemies lap, but what makes the situation worse is the fact that some drunk dude accidentally stumbles into her causing her to slide forward and lock lips with none other than Easton Hayes. Oh how Amelia's life couldn't be anymore ruined. ••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••• I lean in so that our noses are touching which causes us to close our eyes as our breaths become more harsher. "I can't stand being friends with you. Everytime I see you all I want to do is push you against a wall and kiss you" he whispers out which makes me smile a little "So, what are you going to do about it?" I ask him teasingly with a breathless voice "This" he says before he connects our lips which makes me reach up and place my hands on his cheeks.

I've been in a five-year secret relationship with Shawn Lowell. For so long, everyone thinks we're rivals who hate each other's guts. At a bachelorette party hosted by a mutual friend, the bride-to-be orders every guy who is still single to wear eye masks. After that, every single woman has to walk one lap in front of them. This is so that the men can pick up on the women's perfumes. If they find a perfume they like the most, they can embrace the woman instantly and become a couple for the day. I walk very slowly in front of the men on purpose. In fact, I even stop in front of Shawn for half a second. But as soon as Shawn takes off his eye mask, he finds himself hugging Alyssa Sutton, his childhood sweetheart and first love. "Wow! You really are amazing, Mr. Lowell! You actually recognized Alyssa from all those fragrances and hugged her on the spot! Even God thinks you two are a match made in heaven!" Alyssa's eyes slightly redden, whereas Shawn looks down at her with a doting smile playing on his lips. Both of them refuse to let go of each other. As I stand a short distance away, I just smile at the scene. Last night, Shawn was still kissing the scar on my chest in bed while telling me that he wanted to marry me. How is it that he's forgotten his promise in just the blink of an eye?

Elena Vance made a fifty-dollar mistake that cost her her freedom. Believing her one-night stand was a high-end escort, she left cash and a mocking note on his pillow, only to walk into a boardroom hours later and realize the man was Adrian Blackwood, the ruthless "Ice King" CEO. Adrian didn't just hold her career in his hands; he held a cocktail napkin marriage license signed in a tequila haze and her father’s $200,000 gambling debt. "You belong to me for six months," he declared, trapping her in a fake marriage to secure a corporate merger. Elena entered the "gilded cage" of Adrian's penthouse expecting a cold, transactional war of wills governed by strict "no-touch" clauses. She remained loyal only to save her father, unaware that he would eventually betray her to their enemies. But the boardroom battles quickly turned lethal. Victor Kane, Adrian’s bitter rival from MIT, obsessed with erasing the Blackwood legacy, sold the company's debt to the Russian Bratva. Suddenly, the fake spouses were forced into a terrifying reality: becoming FBI informants. The "Ice King" melted into a desperate protector, and the graphic designer sharpened into a survivor. Their bond shifted from a business deal to a sacrificial love, forged in the fires of betrayal. But when a mission to plant a bug at a mob wedding ends in a massacre, they realize the FBI is compromised. Stripped of his billions and presumed dead, Adrian stands in the ashes of his empire alongside Elena. A secret brother watches from the shadows, and the Russian mob is closing in. "We have nothing left," Elena whispered, staring into the dark. Adrian gripped her hand, his eyes burning with a new, dangerous resolve. "We have each other. And now, we run."

“Hold her mouth open, she’s too polite to ask for it.” A firm hand grips my jaw, keeping it wide, as another man groans above me, thick and pulsing, his cock sliding against my tongue with punishing rhythm. She was supposed to be a transaction. One night. A girl forced to sell herself for money, and three men who could offer more than she’d ever dreamed, for a price. But Harper isn’t like the others. When she steps into that hotel suite, fragile and brave all at once, she isn’t just agreeing to pleasure. She’s agreeing to surrender. And something about her, about the way she flinches, the way she obeys, the way she doesn’t ask for more, makes them all pause. They own a club built on power, discipline, and unshakable rules. But she doesn’t know any of that yet. All she knows is what it feels like to be touched like she matters, just once. When they ask if she wants more, she says the wrong thing. “I’d have to ask Mark.” What should’ve been a second arrangement turns into a revelation. Because they know what Mark is. And now they know what he’s been doing to her. Two days later, they offer her another night. Same price. Only this time… they don’t plan on letting her go back. “Good girls take it. All of it. Even when it hurts.” I scream into the pillow as one thrusts deeper, harder, while the other presses his weight against my back, whispering filth into my ear and slapping my thigh until I shake.

Born as the younger twin, his destiny in life is to live in his brother's shadow. His beast is strong, the bringer of chaos, and he follows nobody's lead. Ryder leaves home and disappears for almost two years after realizing that his first love had a dark ulterior motive. He starts working as a hunter, killing the supernatural. A near death incident that leads to personal tragedy brings him home where he becomes the Sire of his own lair and sets him on his path for revenge and ultimately finding his own Drakaina. I went back upstairs just as Megan came out of the bathroom sporting a pair of my sweatpants and t-shirt that was way too big for her. “I was going to recommend the sweat pants, it might be big around your waist but your ass will fill it out,” I said as she turned to glare at me. “Meaning what exactly?” she asked me. “It’s just that your ass… never mind,” I said. “Are you saying I have a fat ass?” she asked me. “No!” I said quickly. “Then what?” she asked me as she stood with her hands on her hips. “Just forget I said anything,” I said to her trying to hide my embarrassment. “No! Tell me,” she said adamantly. “Fine! Your ass is perfect for… no I can't, I'm going to sound like a pervert,” I said as the pillow flew across my face. “Ryder!” she yelled her face a bright red. “You asked,” I said and ducked at the shoe heading for my face. “You're such an idiot,” she said as she looked at me, “stop looking at my ass.” “Are you wearing my underwear?” I asked her as I saw the edge of my boxers above the sweat pants.

The day Adrian Knight clinched a contract with our biggest client, I "accidentally" tipped a bottle of ink across the paperwork, voiding it on the spot. Because of that single blot, the project landed in Alex Lewis’s lap, and he won Chairman Henry Carter’s favor almost overnight, moving into the Carter mansion as their future son-in-law and watching his net worth rocket into eight figures. Adrian never blamed me. He just laughed that he’d never been executive material anyway and happily brought me home as his bride. Everyone whispered that, if not for my meddling, Adrian would already be sitting in the Carter family’s executive suite instead of scraping by in an ordinary life with me. Only I knew the truth: stopping him from signing that contract had saved his life. When Adrian learned I was pregnant, he locked me in the basement, fingers digging into my throat. "If it hadn’t been for you," he snarled, "I’d be Henry Carter’s son-in-law by now. You’re the reason I lost Rachel, the princess of the Carter family." That’s when I realized he’d been nursing this grudge for years. After he killed me, I woke up, reborn on the very day Adrian first reached for that fatal contract. This time, I’ll make sure Adrian Knight gets exactly what he wants.

“Don't you dare touch me. You bloody monster,” Eric whispered glaring at me, which only turned me on the more. A beautiful smile crossed my lips; luckily for us, his fake mother was so focused on Katherine, she did not know I was fucking her son before her eyes. “So I am now a monster, huh? That was not what you said yesterday. Or have you forgotten about our hot night?” I asked as I traced my way to his lap again, approaching his groin area. He swallowed hard, his eyes roaming around. “Damien. I am Katherine’s fiancé. your niece” He reminded me as my hands reached his groan, caressing it through the layers of his trousers. “Yesterday you were Mike's boyfriend, and what did I tell you? I don't give a fuck!,” I whispered back. “Now be quiet and try to control yourself” . Eric's life is thrown upside down when his brother is killed on his coronation day, and he now has to become the king. and he can't because he is gay and he has a boyfriend who he loves dearly, or so he thought until he met Damien Monetro, his fiancée's uncle and his former one-night stand