The Shell Seekers Novels & Stories

"Let me go," I snapped, even though my voice wasn’t as sharp as I wanted it to be. “No,” he growled, lips grazing the shell of my ear, his breath warm and wicked as his hand slid down, fingers pressing just above my thigh, and trailed all the way to my wet fold. “You want to hate this, don’t you?” he whispered, mouth trailing hot kisses along my neck as his hand shifted my underwear, “But your body’s begging, baby.” I gasped, lips parting, and before I could spit out a comeback, he crushed his mouth to mine. The kiss was rough, full of hunger, and I whimpered into his mouth before I could stop myself. My body pressed into his, desperate for more. But he suddenly pulled both his lips and hand back, “Say the word and I’ll stop.” I stared at him. My chest was rising and falling too fast. My lips were swollen. My thighs, God, I was throbbing. I want, I need. He pressed a knee between my legs and my and I mewed. Yes, me. I mewed like some needy, pathetic bitch in heat. For him. "That’s what I thought," he growled, and the next second he pinned both my wrists above my head and kissed me like he was trying to ruin me all over again. **** Liora once has a powerful name, a future paved in gold, until Tristan Cole walked in and tore everything apart. Now, years later, Liora is forced into a marriage contract with the very man who destroyed her life, all to save her dying brother. But Tristan wants something more dangerous. Her heart. Her body, all of her. Will love be her ultimate undoing? Or will she crawl out of wreckage and gain control?

He catches my wrist as I try to flee, spinning me back against his chest in the empty hallway. "Running from me again? That's not very stepmother-ly of you." His lips brush the shell of my ear, and I shiver. "Let me go, Klaus," I manage, though my body melts into his touch. "Before someone sees…" "Let them," he murmurs, his hand sliding up my thigh beneath my skirts. "Let the whole kingdom see and know that you are mine, damnit!” ***** She wore a veil and a lie when she walked into the palace as the Alpha King's bride. But revenge has a way of getting complicated when your fated mate is your new stepson. Margaux should be dead. Her mate rejected her, and the Alpha King slaughtered her family—but she survived, and now she's back wearing someone else's face. Her plan is simple: marry the King, gain his trust, and destroy him from within. What she didn't plan for was him. Klaus recognizes her the moment their eyes meet across the throne room, mate bond blazing to life despite the years and lies between them. He's the King's son. Her stepson now. The man who shattered her heart. And he's making it very clear that he doesn't care about scandal, propriety, or the fact that she belongs to his father—at least on paper. He never stopped wanting her. He never stopped loving her. But Klaus doesn't know the whole truth: his father murdered her family in cold blood, and Margaux won't rest until she's bathed in the King's destruction. She should be focused on vengeance, not the forbidden heat that ignites every time Klaus corners her in darkened hallways. She should hate him for abandoning her. She does hate him. So why can't she stay away?

"I’ll make you beg and cry out my name, Father Hale. You won’t even be able to face the altar without remembering how you came apart on my tongue." Vincente terrifying voice admitted curling around the crucifix at my throat as his rough, unforgiving fingers, pinned my wrists above my head. His thigh shoved between mine, spreading me open, and the heavy press of his cock ground against the thin barrier of my underclothes. Mine answered before I could stop it, swelling shamefully through the thin clothes that clung like a second, traitorous skin. "Feel that?" he whispered, rolling slow, merciless circles that tore a broken sound from my throat. "That’s your body confessing louder than any prayer." I tried to twist away, but the movement only dragged my hips harder against him. "Please," I gasped, the word cracking open like a wound. "Vicente —God—" "God’s not here," he growled, his teeth grazing the shell of my ear. "Only me, you don't call God when you are about to sin." His hands slipped under me working on me. I bit my lip until I tasted blood, but the moan slipped out anyway, raw and ragged. "Say it. Say you want me," he demanded, his thumb circling the slick head until my vision blurred. "Beg me to stop. Or beg me not to." A sob tore free as my body arched, chasing the pleasure I hated myself for craving. "Please...Vicente—" He swallowed the broken plea with his mouth, teeth and tongue, sucking the faint copper of my own blood. When he pulled back, his eyes glittered like black glass. "Oh." He smiled, "You mean I can continue?" And my last hope to get him stop chattered.

"Genie" His voice was barely a whisper, his breath warm against the shell of my ear. "This is so wrong, we can't be doing this." His lips find their way back to mine, trailing the bottom lip with his tongue. "So so wrong" He pulled my lower lips in, biting on them. I stifled a moan. "I know," I managed to say. I could feel the warm slickness ache between my legs. "We shouldn't be doing this. You're my step brother." My body doesn't agree with what my mouth is saying. I snuggled closer into his chest wanting to feel the heat of his bare body against mine. I want his mouth against mine, ravaging me like he had done before. We have gone too far to back out now. "Take me, Ryder" Those were the words he needed. Only those three words. Suddenly, he grips the back of my thighs and lifts me up, forcing my legs to wrap around him. Planting me against the wall, he peers up and look straight into my eyes "You're mine" Then his lips came down on mine. I'm yours. I whispered back in the back of my head. ******** Ryder Saint, for years, has bullied me. Reasons? None. It was like he signed a contract from heaven to make my life hell. From the moment he set his eyes on me, he added my name to his list. Don't be fooled by his last name. It's a charade, he's not anything like it. Everything about Ryder Saint smells evil. His heart, dark. His soul, dark. His aura, dark. Except his face. I should have neglected him like I always have, but I couldn't when our parents decided to tie the knots and he became my stepbrother. He and I, under the same roof.