Touched

"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?

I was ten when my Omega mother mated the Alpha of the Blackwood Pack. My stepbrother, Draven, never let me forget how I’d diluted their pure blood. With his silent blessing, the entire pack became a weapon to carry out his hate. During a full moon hunt, he gave the nod. That's all it took. His followers "accidentally" pushed me in front of a raging stag. I felt its antlers rip my shoulder open. He looked down at me, his golden eyes dripping with scorn. “Don’t think you’re one of us just because your mother latched onto my father. Weaklings get culled. And I’ll be the one to kick you off my land.” At his command, they'd ruin my offerings to the Moon Goddess. They shredded my coming-of-age gown with silver blades. Through it all, my mother would only look at me with shame. My stepfather, the great Alpha, just saw me as a troublesome brat. I made myself small, desperate for a scrap of kindness. But it only made me the pack outcast. Hated and completely alone. Until Draven’s best friend, Liam—the Alpha heir to the Rage River Pack—showed interest in me at the werewolf academy. For the first time ever, Draven left me alone. I thought Liam was my only light in the darkness. On my birthday, I gave myself to him completely. The next day, I overheard him talking to Draven. Draven’s voice was low, laced with venom. “Did you get the video? Of the half-blood losing control mid-fuck?” Liam chuckled. “Of course. Gotta admit, she feels amazing. So soft… a real temptation. Almost got me hooked. But just in bed. The thought of her dirty blood…If it wasn’t to help you get even, I would’ve never touched a weak-blooded Omega like her.” I clamped a hand over my mouth, tears streaming down my face. My only hope was a lie. But they didn't know. I’d already applied to the Valeriana Werewolf Institute. And I wasn’t coming back.

For five years, I fought illegal matches in an underground cage ring to scrape together enough money to repay the massive high-interest loan I had taken out to treat my son Luca’s illness. Dragging my still-dislocated left arm, I rushed to tell the father and son the good news. Yet when I reached the door, I saw the capo who managed the cage arena bowing low before my husband, Vicenzo. “Underboss, Eva said she’ll repay the loan in a few days. Do we still keep pretending to pressure her?” Vicenzo idly spun the Browning in his hand, the diamonds set into it worth enough to buy the entire cage arena. “No need. She’s suffered enough these past few years. Even when she had two ribs broken a few months ago, she didn’t dare tell us.” Elena, his sworn sister, seated beside him, let out a soft laugh. “Vicenzo, what if she’s a spy sent by a rival family? After all, you are the underboss of the Carlini family. “Besides, Luca has been pampered since he was little. How could he live with someone who reeks of blood?” My six-year-old son wrapped his arms tightly around her neck and echoed her words. “I don’t want a woman covered in scars as my mommy. Just looking at her wounds makes me feel sick.” Then he turned to her and pouted. “Aunt Elena, I wish you were my mommy.” Vicenzo hesitated only a moment before looking at them indulgently. “Then we’ll test her for another six months. If she remains this obedient, I’ll officially let her become part of the Carlini family.” I watched the farce with cold eyes, because to avoid frightening Vicenzo, the ordinary librarian I believed him to be, I had hidden my identity as the principessa of the Moretti family. Also, to keep from being found by my family and my fiancé, the Don of the Carlini family, I had not touched a single cent of family money. Instead, I chose to earn it with my fists in places piled with the dead. So it seemed my endurance and sacrifice were nothing more than a taming game in their eyes.

My father suffered from serious manic depression. When I was eight, my house was robbed and my mother was killed. I became blind while shielding my father from being stabbed. I became the only solace for my father after that. Anyone who hurt me would suffer my father's wrath. When my classmate made fun of me for being blind, her thermos suddenly exploded a few days later and she was blinded. When the class bully targeted me, he was found lying in an alley the next day. Something had dropped on him from a high building that broke his limbs. Not long after, my father achieved great success in his career. He was known for being a sharp businessman. I continued to be the most important person to him. Whoever dared touch a hair on me was as good as dead. I was lucky that a top medical research center overseas successfully came up with a treatment to restore my eyesight. On the day they removed my bandages, I received my father's wedding invitation. [Rina, I found you a new mother. We'll both dote on you when you come home.] My father told me how gentle and kind my new mother was and how much he looked forward to us meeting each other. I was touched and specially prepared a present for her. However, she instructed her bodyguards to abduct me and bring me to an abandoned factory. "Of all the things to learn in life, how dare a young girl like you learn to seduce another woman's husband? How shameless! How dare you steal something that belonged to my husband's late wife? I'll skin you alive!" My present was flung to the ground and destroyed. She ordered her bodyguards to force themselves on me and broke my bones. She skinned me alive and put plaster all over me to turn me into a statue. She then put me into an exquisite gift box to give to my father as a surprise. "Sweetheart, this is the vixen you've kept hidden from me. I turned her into an angel statue. You can see her every night if you put her in your bedroom. You won't need to sneak out to see her.

When my best friend and I realized we had been reborn and traveled back several decades, we locked eyes, collapsed into each other's arms, and sobbed, shouting that we wanted to break off our engagements. The entire neighborhood whispered that we had lost our minds. But only we knew the truth. In our past lives, this was the day everything was sealed: she married a battalion commander, Ned Stark, and I became the wife of a high school teacher, Robbie Stark. My husband betrayed me. For the sake of that pretentious whore, Scarlett Wheaton, he stole my university admission letter and let her take my place on campus. The world mocked me as a failure, and Robbie stood by in silence. After we married, every time he touched me, he would immediately write another love letter to Scarlett—atoning for his supposed guilt. "Scarlett, even if I can't be with you in this life, my soul will always belong to you alone." Even my own child despised me, calling me an ignorant village woman, urging me again and again to divorce so that his father could be with his "true love," Scarlett. And my best friend, Rachel Croft—born the daughter of a factory director—was tricked by her husband, Ned, under the pretense of buying a house. He drained her savings and her wages for twenty long years. It wasn't until she fell gravely ill and went to sell the house that she discovered the deed he had given her was a forgery. The real house—the one paid in full—was in Scarlett's name. One of Scarlett's dresses cost more than my friend's entire monthly salary. When Rachel begged to reclaim what rightfully belonged to her, she was met only with contempt from Ned and her child. "All you ever care about is money. You're nothing like Scarlett, who isn't materialistic at all. Your illness is retribution," Ned had said. "Exactly. Only someone as noble and kind as Scarlett deserves to be my mother!" her child had said. Rachel and I both spent our lives working ourselves to the bone, only to end with nothing—dying bitter and broken from the injustice. But this time, fate has given us another chance. I will go to university. Rachel will become a wealthy woman. This time, without us paving the way, those shameless men and that wretched woman think they can still live happily ever after? Dream on.