Thick Pov

I asked my husband for a divorce during the most difficult year of his life. Everyone condemned me, calling me heartless, but I still forced him to sign the divorce papers. Later, he overcame his struggles and rose to become a powerful CEO. I avoided him for two years, believing I’d never cross paths with him again—until he caught me at my most wretched. His eyes brimmed with hatred as he stared at me. In front of everyone, he humiliated me and relentlessly forced me to down a bottle of vodka. I vomited uncontrollably, blood gushing from my mouth in thick streams. He mocked me, telling me it was the retribution I deserved for betraying him. I didn’t argue. I let him torment me. After all, I was already dying. If that made him content, so be it.

Fear  Noun 1. a distressing emotion aroused by impending danger, evil, pain, etc., whether the threat is real or imagined; the feeling or condition of being afraid. Synonyms: foreboding, apprehension, consternation, dismay, dread, terror, fright, panic, horror, trepidation, qualm. Until that night, Kinsley never knew true fear, never felt terror. She could taste the fear on her tongue, salty with a hint of copper, her throat felt constricted. She wanted to scream but the terror was too thick in her throat, coating it to the point of near suffocation. She was prey and he was the hunter who never failed. Verendus was powerful, a ruthless and cruel Boss, he did not fail and he did not quit. Kinsley Anderson was a woman he coveted, and he would stop at nothing to claim her. He had the means and the manpower to pursue her to the ends of the earth and he would do it, claiming her once and for all.

The year I was at my poorest, I impersonated my sister to take care of her blind fiancé in exchange for one hundred thousand dollars. On the day he regained his sight, I left without a word. When we met again, it was during a business interview. I was a nameless intern reporter. He had returned to his rightful status as the heir of the influential Hughes family. During the interview, the host asked, "We’ve heard that during your illness, your fiancée, Miss Dawson, stayed by your side through thick and thin. The two of you are about to get married?" He lifted his hand slightly, revealing a ring, and his lips curled into a faint smile. "Yes, we’re getting engaged soon." Yet, his gaze, through the lens of his glasses, landed—intentionally or not—on me, standing in the corner.

NINA “My wife will ride you for her org-sm and for your come to fill her, so she can do her duty as Mrs. Sokolov.” Jeremiah’s fingers flexed around my throat. “Go on, little wh-re. Climb over him. I know you want to.”   I crawled over Lachlan, curling my fingers around his thick c-ck, and wondered — how big was Jeremiah? How long? How thick? Lachlan hissed, “Kitten, stop playing or I’ll come all over your hand.”   Jeremiah growled, “We can’t have that. All his come belongs in your c-nt, wife. So get on with it.” His lips brushed my ear. “Don’t stretch this out. I have something else that needs stretching.” Shuddering, I got to my knees. As I aligned Lachlan’s c-ck with my entrance, another hand wrapped around mine — larger, slick with oil. Jeremiah.   A moan escaped as my husband guided his lover’s c-ck to my core. I sank down slowly, the stretch burning until I took every inch. “F-ck,” Lachlan groaned. “You’re perfect around me.” “You too,” I moaned, pressed against his chest, lips tangled in a kiss.   Then, without warning, Jeremiah pushed in two fingers — into my other h-le.   I gasped as he stretched my untouched muscles. He didn’t stop. Not until I was full. Everywhere.   Lachlan groaned. “I can feel you.”   “I know,” Jeremiah said, his fingers thrusting deep. “Move.” Lachlan obeyed, lifting me until just his tip stretched me, then pushed me back down. I whimpered. My hips jerked. Lachlan cursed.   “You like that, wife?” Jeremiah’s voice rasped in my ear. “Being used by both of us?”   _ This is a twisted, dark MMF mafia romance where love is savage, hate burns deep, and survival comes at a deadly cost. Read-TW!!!! MF-MM-MFM-Dark-Twisted-Betrayal-Amnesia-Revenge-NonCon-Mafia-Humiliation-Dominated-Controlling-Ruthless-Mystery-Thriller-READ-Trigger-Warnings

The night my father collapsed, I learned some men negotiate with money… but Noah Thorne negotiates with lives. I never planned to marry a billionaire CEO, especially not the man my father owed $50,000 to. But when the hospital demanded an $80,000 deposit before surgery, life made the choice for me. While my mother sobbed in a cold hallway, Noah’s bodyguard arrived with an offer, an arranged marriage, a contract marriage that would clear the debt and cover every medical bill. When I confronted Noah, he presented the terms without cruelty: one year, no intimacy, public appearances only, and freedom after. He believed he was offering mercy but I felt like beautifully packaged captivity. Desperation crushed pride, and I signed. Our “marriage” was a seven-minute formality, no vows, no meaning. Moving into his penthouse was like stepping into a museum built to contain silence. Publicly, we were the perfect romance. Privately, we were strangers navigating a fragile arrangement thick with unspoken tension. Complications followed us: Noah’s elegant, smug ex who treated me like a placeholder, and my own ex-boyfriend, whose sudden reappearance triggered jealousy in Noah he couldn’t hide. Arguments, silences, and late-night moments softened something between us. Slowly, painfully, the man behind the empire emerged, the lonely boy shaped by loss, abandonment, and guarded walls. We began to care. We tried to deny it. Feelings weren’t in the contract but feelings don’t read contracts. Near the end of the year, Noah pulled away. I thought he wanted freedom. He signed the release papers with steady hands and a breaking heart. I was almost gone when he whispered the truth: “Please don’t go.” We tore up the contract. A year later, we married again, this time for love, not survival. This time, I chose him

I was helplessly stripped before him. "Now, spread your legs and pleasure yourself,” he commanded. "I… I can't." My voice cracked. In an instant, his gun was below my chin. Its coldness frightened me. "I'm easily irritated, little doll. SO PLEASURE YOURSELF NOW.” —- ‘I am a Victim.’ One dreadful night, I woke up. I was blindfolded with a tie and my hands knotted with thick rope. I was captured by a ruthless Italian-American Mafia. My father owed him a huge amount of money and he was going to get it back by breaking me into pieces until I was completely ruined. He was the cruelest, merciless and most handsome man I had ever known and I was his muse for his cruel pleasure. And in twisted ways... I got to like it. DARK MAFIA ROMANCE.

"Dad, Mom, I've decided—I'll go through with the marriage arrangement with the Kingston family. I'll be back by the end of the month." Daphne Wharton made the decision in the middle of a camping trip with Luke Hardy. She curled into herself, pulling her scarf higher against the chill. For a moment, there was only silence on the other end of the line. Then, her mother's voice came through, thick with tears. "Daphne, we know this isn't fair to you. Our company is struggling, and the Kingston family is willing to help—but only if you marry their son. We've failed you as parents…" Her father let out a heavy sigh beside her mother. Daphne listened, her gaze unfocused. A faint, bitter smile tugged at her lips. "It's okay, Mom, Dad. This is what I should do. I'll be back in fifteen days—when their son returns to the country."

Maddie is fresh out of college. She earned her master's in business and is ready to find the perfect job. Her best friend, Maggie, gets her an interview with a hot shot and YOUNG billionaire. He's domineering and angry 99% of the time...but he may have a sweet spot for a young and innocent Madeline. Will his past and current life catch up to Maddie and make her leave him or will she stick with him through thick or thin? A story that exposes what reality can be like. The world world is rough, scary, and hard. Some people make it and others don't, this story may shed some light on what self deprivation can feel like. Please read and enjoy. This is a PURE work of fiction, please remember that when reading. This story contains sexually explicit material along with vulgar language. Read at your own risk.

Every year, my wife, Jessica Lowe, prepares a huge surprise for me on our wedding anniversary. On the night of our tenth anniversary, she enters the banquet hall with a scantily-dressed male model. She demands that I take off my suit and put it on him instead. I refuse and take out a divorce agreement. In retaliation, Jessica slaps a thick stack of photos onto the table. The photos show me at my most humiliated, shameful, and pathetic moments. She sneers, "Michael Jefferson, you talk about divorce all the time. But each time, you always end up crawling back to me with your tail between your legs, begging me to take you back. "Tell me, what will your comatose mother think if these pictures of you get out? Will she finally wake up in the hospital from shame and embarrassment?" However, Jessica doesn't know that my mother, Eleanor Brown, passed away months ago.

I vowed to transfer schools with my childhood friend when he claimed he was being bullied. But the day before we were to finalize the transfer, he backed out. His friend teased him. "Man, you faked being a punching bag just to get rid of Alice Wiley? That's cold. You two have been thick as thieves since forever. Are you really cool with her going to a new school alone?" Shane Page brushed it off. "It's just another high school across town. Not a big deal. I'm tired of her always being up my ass. This works out perfectly." I stood frozen outside the door for a long time. Finally, I turned and walked away. On the transfer form, I crossed out Oatheport High and filled in the international academy my parents had been pushing for. Everyone seemed to forget that Shane and I were never equals.