Thick Bulge Novels & Stories

I put my t-shirt down, my hands shaking. I try to ignore them and stare at my reflection in the mirror. My hair color is dark brown and a vague hint of golden. My dad used to say that my eyes are ocean blue. A guy in my history cl once said that I had perfect s. Another guy said that I had a great body. They wanted to date me. And I dated few of them. I brush my fingers in my forehead. Then my dark, thick eyelashes. The side of my nose. My s. I run my hand at my neck, then across my collarbone. Am I beautiful? Honestly, I don't know. Maybe I'm not. "You were wrong, Angelina Valentine." A voice inside my head suddenly whispers. "Calm down, Angel," another voice whispers. It's the voice I loved. His voice is fading away. My hands start shake again, my breath rapidly quickening. I am losing control. I have to do something. "Goddammit!" I punch the mirror with my fist. It shatters into thousand pieces. My reflection has shattered into thousand pieces, too. The mirror now looks to me like an art. And my bloody knuckles. "I am sorry, Edwin. I can't promise you anymore, because you left me." I bite my to stop myself from crying. I won't cry. What's the point of crying? My sixth sense is suddenly alert. Somebody is watching me. I spin around. A guy is standing in front of the door, leaning against it. He wears a tight blue shirt, the sleeves folded. His black hair is ruffled and his hands are folded across his chest. The probable most amazing thing about him is his eyes. They are dark green. They are dangerous, beautiful and incredibly unreadable. And they are watching me.

Zesa Russo commands the boardroom with the same precision and confidence she brings to every aspect of her life. At 28, she’s the fierce CEO of Techya, a company she’s built from the ground up. Driven, unrelenting, and unapologetically bold, she’s never been one to wait for a prince charming to come sweep her off her feet—instead, she’s the force that shapes her own destiny. And her destiny has always involved him. The man who had once eluded her grasp, the one she had silently craved for years. But Zesa isn’t the kind to let love slip through her fingers. No. She's determined to make him hers, no matter what. Slowly, inevitably, she knows he’ll surrender his heart to her—just like everything else she’s ever set her sights on. ____ Levi’s mischievous gaze locks onto mine, daring, seductive, his lips curving into a slow smirk as he steps closer. “Should I stop?” His voice is velvet, deep and teasing, laced with danger. But I don’t flinch. “No,” I breathe, my pulse quickening, every nerve in my body on edge. His smirk deepens, a dark promise in his eyes as his fingers slowly trace the hem of my dress, lifting it with agonizing precision. The whisper of fabric against my skin sends shivers down my spine. His lips—warm, soft, and skilled—graze the sensitive skin of my inner thighs. Levi’s hand slips beneath the fabric, fingertips brushing against my desire, teasing, drawing out a soft gasp from me. The heat between us is suffocating, yet intoxicating. “Levi…” My voice trembles as he nips gently at my thigh, his breath hot against my skin. “You’ll be the one begging me to stop,” he murmurs, the promise in his words thick, dripping with need.

*Smut After her mate's brutal rejection, healing prodigy Sandra surrenders to a dangerously seductive stranger in a dark alley, only to discover he's her uncle Marcus. Trapped by blackmail in his isolated house, forbidden desire ignites between lessons. But Marcus harbors a deadly secret about her father's death. ----------------- “Fuck, Sandra,” he growled, thumb brushing over my nipple through the fabric until it stiffened, aching. “Vanessa’s right upstairs. If she hears us—” “I don’t care,” I panted, rocking up against him, chasing that thick pressure. “Make me forget today. Just tonight. Please.” I’m going straight to hell,” he muttered, then closed the gap. His mouth took mine slow this time, deliberate, like he was memorizing the taste of me. I sighed into it, hands sliding up his chest to grip his shoulders. He tasted like black coffee and smoke and sin, and I wanted more. He tugged me closer, one hand fisting in my hair, the other splayed low on my back, pressing me against him. Heat flared low in my belly, spreading fast. I shifted, trying to ease the ache between my thighs, and he groaned against my lips, grip tightening. His tongue traced the seam of my mouth; I opened for him instantly, meeting him stroke for stroke until we were both breathing hard. He tilted my head back, lips moving down my throat, teeth grazing the frantic beat of my pulse. I gasped, nails digging into the muscle of his shoulders. “We should stop,” he rasped against my skin, but his hand was already pushing under my thin tank top, calloused palm gliding up my ribs. “We should,” I agreed breathlessly, then dragged his mouth back to mine, kissing him deeper, hungrier.

Jake topher,a billionaire ceo falls for an upcoming model, just when he thought he couldn't be with a woman..... Victoria kings,a witty but courageous model, filled with confidence and determination towards life meets the dreaded CEO who everyone seems scared of in the city...she shows no fear. A fun romantic comedy with a touch of drama and action. ********************** "Can I kiss you?" Jake asked, his face just an inch away from hers. Her breathing grew heavy, his lips were near hers, they just weren't touching. She wanted to say something but no words came, so she looked back down, but it lead to more temptation. Her eyes met his lips, his perfectly lined lips, which were slightly parted. "Jake." She managed to mutter, in an attempt to stop him, but her low voice at the moment was more seducing than ever to his ears. "Can I?" He pleaded again, his thick yet smooth voice reverberated In her ears. She shivered when he brought his lips closer to her eears. He was much more closer now, she could smell his cologne, she closed her eyes, she loved the way he smelt, but she couldn't let him do what he wanted to do right now. He was drunk and she knew it. She shouldn't have brought up the idea of wine drinking. She felt a grasp on her waist, he pulled her to himself, there was no space between them now Cupping her face with his right hand, he admired her beauty for a while. "Vee?" He looked at her eyes." I want you, vee." He said, his gaze now on her lips, he wanted to kiss her so badly. ********************* Read more, please vote as you read, and make sure to comment who's your favorite . Genika3na️.

Raven Academy claws three primal laws into every shifter's soul: 1. Never deceive an Alpha. 2. Never hunger for an Alpha. 3. Never let Jason Voss inhale your desperate scent. I demolished them all in a fevered rush. One forged assignment, hidden in shadows. His silver gaze pierced through, summoning me to his den. "Exile yourself," he snarled, voice like velvet-wrapped steel, his alpha presence coiling around me, thick with dominance. I collapsed to my knees, pulse thundering, body betraying me with heat. "I'll do anything," I whispered, voice raw, eyes locked on his sculpted form—the godlike alpha every wolf in the academy craved, their fantasies paling against his brutal reality. He didn't smile. He claimed. Now, nights devour me in his sealed lair. His forbidden pupil, spread open for lessons in sin. He unravels me with calloused hands mapping my skin, tongue tracing veins, cock demanding surrender. First lesson: my shattered moans as he pins me to the desk, thrusting mercilessly, his knot swelling to lock us in ecstasy's vise, flooding me until I drip with his essence. Second: the burn of his fangs sinking into my neck mid-fuck, his hips grinding deeper, growling "Mine" like a curse that brands my wolf's core. Third: orgasms ripping through me untouched, his fist twisting my hair, breath hot as he hisses, "My thieving slut, begging for every inch." He etches ownership in flesh: Purple blooms from his grip. Claiming scars pulsing with heat. His release slick between my thighs during sunlit classes, a secret torment that has me aching for more. The pack still worships untouchable Jason Voss from afar, drooling over his lethal beauty. Blind to his mate. Me. Broken. Addicted. Praying this dark bliss never ends. Salvation? I'd claw it apart for one more bite.

"Don't you love this?" Isobel asked, undoing his pants. Cameron raised her up, pushing her ass on the table. He checked the bottom drawer and realised they were out of condoms. Completely mesmerised, he breath. "We can't do this. You don't want to get pregnant." She leaned closer to his body till her braless tits fell on his chest and her lips touched his ears. "I did something." She whispered. "Won't be giving birth for three months." She said. Cameron shifted back, taking his time to look in her eyes. He wanted to be sure she understood what she had done and was ready for it. Isobel smiled, need masqueraded her eyes. "Are you sure?" She nodded. Dipping her hand in his pants. She gasped as her hand fisted his, thick, hard dick. "I want this." "Good." Cameron said, taking his shirt off. "Because I'm going to fuck you." He roared and that instant, her dress ripped open. She enjoyed the sound of the tear. She enjoyed being vulnerable and naked in front of him. Her nipples hardened and his tongue enveloped it. "You're mine. And I'll make you remember that. Every. Damn. Time." "I know." She whispered, unable to think. Her hand roamed around his body till she felt his gun. Isobel gasped. Cameron held her little fingers, reading the look on her face. He stopped and pulled out without taking his eyes off her body. He spread her legs wide for him. She's so beautiful. That pussy is his. Cameron loaded the gun with a bullet and cocked it. Isobel flinched. The mouth of the gun grazed her pussy in ways she enjoyed. She moaned, biting her lips. He was fucking her with his gun. This is her dream come true.

“Shh, little girl,” he growled, teeth catching my bottom lip. I fought the moan, but he circled my clit, my hips jerked helplessly against his hand. Then he pushed my panties aside and sank two thick fingers inside me. I soaked his palm, knees buckling as tremors wracked me. “That’s it, cum for me,” he whispered against my ear. I did. Waves crashed through me while he held me up, stroking gently, murmuring filthy praise that made it sweeter, deeper, more shattering than anything I’d ever felt with a woman. I’m a lesbian. I’ve always known it, claimed it shamelessly. I’ve mapped women’s bodies with my mouth, hands, loving every touch and gasp. My best friend’s tongue between my legs has made me come countless times. The only man I tried, my ex, was awkward, unsatisfying. I swore off them forever. I love women. I love my best friend. So why does this man, her father, the one I should never want make me wetter with one stroke than she ever has? Why am I aching for his cock, pushed inside me, thrusting relentlessly, filling me, ruining me in ways no woman could? Why does bending over his desk for him feel like the right thing to do? One forbidden touch. One devastating truth: I might never want another woman again. When I rejected the vice chancellor's advances, my best friend's obsessive aunt, she threatened expulsion. My friend took me to her father, the college owner. One look at his body and I was lost. That night in their home, hiding in the kitchen while watching him cook, I touched myself, craving what is forbidden. Will my best friend discover my sudden addiction to her father? Will her aunt ever stop wanting me?

My company had arranged a wilderness survival retreat deep in the heart of Moonshadow Forest—a place where even seasoned wolves tread cautiously. That night, a sudden downpour ripped through the campsite, drenching the earth and filling the air with the thick scent of damp moss and shifting soil. I woke abruptly, the cold seeping into my bones. Instinctively, I reached out to the space beside me, seeking the warmth of my mate. Empty. A sharp pang of unease clawed at my chest. My wolf, dulled by the suppressant herbs I had taken to blend into human society, stirred restlessly. Fumbling in the darkness, I grabbed my phone and dialed Nigel. The line barely had time to connect before he emerged from the undergrowth—disheveled, breathless. His grip was iron-tight as he seized my wrist, pulling me downhill. His scent was sharp with adrenaline, but beneath it—something foreign, something wrong. We ran, my boots sinking into the mud. My keen vision caught glimpses of his rumpled clothing, the way his collar was misaligned—and the faint imprint of lips on his jaw. My pulse pounded in my ears. Betrayal. I wrenched my arm from his grasp, my claws itching to unsheathe despite the human form I forced myself to maintain. "Where were you?" My voice came out low, edged with the danger of a wolf barely leashed. The suppressants in my bloodstream faltered under the weight of my fury. The storm had driven everyone into their tents, leaving the clearing eerily silent as we reached the base of the mountain. But she was there. A woman stood beneath the flickering glow of the emergency lanterns, her hair tousled, her fingers gripping Nigel’s jacket as if it belonged to her. I knew her. The new intern. Her face held an unsettling resemblance to mine, as if the Moon Goddess herself had carved her from the shadows of my reflection. The realization struck like a silver dagger to my chest. Even the mate who had once sworn to fight the world for me had given in to betr

In his bid for perpetual life, the first Don of the Bryant family annihilates the witch clan and violently takes possession of their most sacred relic. In the moments before her death, the head of the witch clan places a curse on every descendant of the Bryant family. Every descendant will suffer a sudden mutation at the age of 23, where their bodies would be covered in thick, black hair, and fangs would sprout from their mouths, turning them into monsters. They can only lift the curse if they marry a descendant of the witches. Ella Crawford—my sister—and I are the last remaining descendants of the witch clan in the human realm. In my past life, Oliver's lottery selection fell on the attractive Ella. I was aware that Ella lacked the power to lift the curse, so I secretly swapped the lots, and Oliver ended up married to me. In the end, during our wedding night, Ella set herself alight, proclaiming that she had lost her eternal love and didn't want to face life without him. As a result, Mom and Dad drove me out. Oliver, however, took me in and showered me with affection. It wasn't long before I conceived his child, and he successfully survived his 23rd birthday. Yet, barely a day later, Oliver pushed me into the fire pit. I pleaded with tears streaming down my face, "I freed you from the curse and am currently carrying your baby, Oliver, so please don't treat me like this!" Oliver merely responded with a malicious grin as he tossed the torch aside. "If it weren't for your interference, Ella would have lifted the curse for me! I would have been able to spend the rest of my life with her, Cynthia!" In the end, I was completely consumed by the flames. I suddenly open my eyes and find myself returning to the day Oliver chooses his bride by lot. I immediately snap the tampered lot, as I'm eager to find out how Ella will save Oliver without any witch powers in this life.

SIX PACK SERIES BOOK FOUR ~ BROCK : I don't believe in happy endings. I stopped believing in them right around the time the woman I loved left me for another man. Love nearly destroyed me once, and when I picked myself back up, I swore I'd never be that stupid again. If you never give someone your heart, they can't break it- so for years, I've closed myself off; never opening up, never feeling. Growing more bitter as everyone around me finds their happy endings. Then I met Astrid. She's annoyingly perky, infuriatingly beautiful, and seems convinced that her cheerful little-miss-sunshine act can melt the ice around my heart. Worst of all, though, is some part of me wants her- and a girl like that is dangerous in my hands. She'll give me every piece of herself, only for her to break when I can't give her anything in return. ~ ASTRID : My whole life, I've gone with my gut. I get feelings about things and people that others don't get, and I've been told that it's a special gift; that I'm an 'intuitive'. I've also been accused of being an eternal optimist, which is why I'm thrown for a loop when I get hit with a gut feeling about the moodiest, broodiest guy I've ever met, like we're supposed to be something to each other. Like we're connected somehow. Trusting my gut has never let me down before, but the more time I spend with Brock, the more I wonder whether my 'gift' has gone haywire. This guy has built walls around his heart a mile thick, and he's not letting anyone through. He's living his life in the darkness, and I'm a little afraid that if I let myself get too close to him, he'll steal my light.