Traveler Vision

A DARK EROTIC BILLIONAIRE ROMANCE. “Arghh, oh my, faster…” I moaned in pleasure, my head rolling back as my vision turned hazy with ecstasy. My mouth hung open, muttering incoherent words while I watched the beast of a man before me pound harder into my dripping entrance. “I’m going to fuck your tight, virgin c*nt so hard that I’ll ruin you for any other man out there,” he muttered in my ear as he switched our positions, laying me on my back. I gasped as I felt drive deeper into me than ever before. — “The night I caught my fiancé in bed with my sister was the night I stopped being the good girl.” After seventeen years of blind loyalty, Leah Harnes walks in on her fiance tangled in sheets with her own sister. Heartbroken, humiliated and desperate to forget, Leah does the unthinkable when she spends a reckless night with a hot stranger. But then, her world shatters again when she discovers the man from that night is ‘Ethan Blackwood,’ her ruthless and dangerously powerful boss. Ethan offers her a cruel contract; Her body in exchange for his power. Except, a man like Ethan doesn’t do soft. No romance. No love-play. All he knows is control, pleasure and pain. She swears to hate him. He swears to own her. Between her scheming step-mother, her vengeful ex and Ethan’s dark obsession, Leah is caught in a web of lies, desire and revenge. But when love ignites between them, and enemies strike from all sides, Leah must decide to destroy Ethan to save herself or lose everything to the man who already ruined her once. A man like Ethan, who despised being touched, but now, he craves the touch of only one woman.

Dans ma vie précédente, j'avais utilisé l'enfant que je portais pour obliger Richard Reynold à m'épouser. Le jour de notre mariage, sa bien-aimée, Élise Brie, s'était jetée dans la mer pour mettre fin à ses jours. Elle avait laissé une lettre qui disait : « Le véritable amour ne rivalise jamais avec le pouvoir et l'argent. J'ai perdu. » Quand Richard avait appris sa mort, il était resté impassible. Il avait même célébré notre mariage avec un sourire tranquille aux lèvres. Mais, le jour du troisième anniversaire de notre fils, Richard nous avait emmenés faire de la plongée sous-marine. À trois cents pieds de profondeur, il avait arraché le tuyau de nos bouteilles d'oxygène et nous avait fait tous deux sombrer dans l'abîme. Après ma mort, ma conscience ne s'était pas éteinte tout de suite. Sous forme d'esprit, j'ai vu Richard déposer mon corps devant la tombe d'Élise, comme une offrande. Il avait murmuré : « Élise, je t'ai enfin vengée. J'espère que tu pourras reposer en paix, maintenant. » Puis ma vision s'était obscurcie. Et lorsque j'avais rouvert les yeux… Je m'étais retrouvée cette nuit-là, celle où je m'apprêtais à utiliser mon fils pour forcer Richard à m'épouser.

The night Enzo was made boss of the Moretti family, I gave him my virginity. He was the heir I'd been promised to since before I could speak. We kissed against the floor-to-ceiling windows, tangled in the humid, twilight heat... His rough, urgent hands hurt me, but I didn't pull away. Even the pain felt sacred, a sacrifice I was willing to make for love. Lost in the heat of the moment, he promised me a pair of the most beautiful crystal shoes, so I could dance the opening waltz with him at his coronation ceremony the next day. The first dance is always reserved for the new boss and his future bride. I cried with joy, believing my years of secret pining and patient waiting would finally culminate in a fairytale ending. But I was wrong. So terribly wrong. The next morning, I dragged my aching body out to get his favorite espresso, only to overhear the guys joking as I returned: "So you finally popped the family cherry, huh? How was Vivian on your first night as boss?" Enzo's voice was lazy, mocking. "Face of an angel, body of a devil. She's a hot little viper in bed." The room erupted in sleazy whistles. "So, you really gonna marry her, young boss?" "Are you kidding me?" Enzo scoffed. "Vivian's just a warm-up. Once I get some practice in, I'll go tame the Falcone ice princess. When I get bored, I can always circle back and put a ring on her." I stood frozen in the doorway, my vision blurring, the coffee cup trembling in my hand. Before the world faded to black, I sent a coded message to the Don: "Uncle Romano, for the promotion in three days, get me a transfer. As far away from Enzo as possible."

The classified project I was working on wrapped up ahead of schedule, so I made sure to get back on my daughter's birthday. When I walked in, a girl I had never seen before was wearing my daughter's princess dress, a crown perched on her head. She sat in front of a cake as tall as she was, eyes closed, making a wish. I frowned and stepped closer. "Who are you? Why are you wearing my daughter's dress? Where's Heidi?" Before she could answer, two housemaids rushed out and started yelling at me. "Where the hell did you come from? How dare you talk to our boss's daughter like that? If you know what's good for you, get out! When the boss gets back, you won't like what happens." I stood there, confused. Boss? The boss's daughter? In this house, wasn't it just me and my daughter, Heidi Foster? I barely had time to speak before they shoved me toward the front door. In the middle of the pushing, something caught my eye. Off to the side, chained to a pillar, was Heidi. The girl I used to hold like she was the most precious thing in the world was now sprawled on the ground, digging through a dog bowl for food. A thick iron chain was locked around her neck, and her body was covered in bruises. My vision tightened. "Heidi, what happened to you?" The moment our eyes met, her hollow gaze filled with tears. She shrank back, then let out a soft bark at me, like a frightened dog. The maids looked at her with open disgust. One of them sneered, "Our boss said that that little thing was born to live like a dog. You have to keep her chained up if you want her to behave."

"Does my son fuck you this good? No? Then take this dick like the good girl you are." My father-in-law had me bent over the kitchen counter, hand clamped over my mouth to muffle my moans, while his son—my husband—called my name from upstairs... *** You think you know what you're getting into? You don't have a fucking clue. This isn't some tasteful romance where the camera pans away. This is the raw, uncut, NC-17 version of your filthiest 3 AM fantasies—the ones you'd never admit to anyone, not even yourself. We're talking Daddies who don't ask permission because you already gave it with those desperate eyes. Men old enough to be completely off-limits but experienced enough to make you forget your own name. They'll bend you over their desk, fuck you silent at family dinner, and make you call them Daddy while reminding you how young, and tight you are. Trigger warnings? Everything here is designed to trigger you. Age gaps that'll get you disowned. Rough hands leaving fingerprint bruises on your hips. Choking that blurs your vision while he calls you his perfect little slut. Public sex in places you'll never see the same way. Getting passed around because one man isn't enough. These men don't make love—they fuck, claim, own. They'll use every hole like it belongs to them because it does. Degrade and worship you in the same breath. Call you their dirty girl while balls deep making you scream. Now be a good girl, turn the fucking page, and let Daddy show you what you've been missing.

Mate. I froze mid-step, Venom has never said that word before. I've suddenly forgotten the Rogues I was chasing, my whole attention now on the emotions I was feeling. My vision sharpened, focusing on the faint sound of labored breathing just ahead. My heart hammered in my chest as I walked closer, the bond pulling me forward with an urgency I hadn’t felt in decades. The first thing I saw was her hair, a messy dark bun with strands of white, unusual yet unique. She sat curled up against the base of an old tree, arms wrapped tightly around her knees, shoulders trembling. Her thin, tattered sweater barely shielding her from the cold air. She looked... fragile, a word I never thought I’d associate with my mate. Ariel’s life has been anything but easy. Orphaned as a child and left in the care of a cruel stepfather and stepbrother, she’s endured years of emotional and physical abuse. Despite her circumstances, she’s always felt something stirring beneath the surface—an unexplained restlessness, vivid dreams of running under the moonlight, and a deep connection to the forest around her. Zayn, the alpha of the Shadowcrest pack, has spent years searching for his fated mate, the one who would complete him and stand by his side to no avail…he had finally given up on ever finding her. His pack thrives under his leadership, but his heart has grown weary, doubting the Moon Goddess’s promise of a mate. When a chance encounter leads him to Ariel, he’s stunned to discover that the fragile, broken girl is his destined partner—and more than that, she’s a wolf completely unaware of her true nature.

“Spread that tight little pussy for me. It’s mine tonight,” Callum growled in my ear as he slammed into me. “Yes. Claim me. Use me. Don’t stop.” A strangled moan ripped out of me. He drove so hard I could barely breathe. My nails ripped at his shoulders, desperate to hold on, when another hand yanked my hair back. My mouth fell open, and a second cock rammed into my throat. I gagged as spit streamed down my chin. A third voice cracked across me with a sharp smack to my ass, the sting making me cry out. “Good slut. Take it all. You’re nothing but our toy tonight.” Tears blurred my vision and my throat burned raw. My pussy clenched tight around Callum with every brutal drive. I gasped out the only words I had left. “Yes… Daddies. I’ll take everything." •••••••••••••••••• CLAIM ME, DADDIES isn’t here to tease. It drags you to your knees, rips you open, and leaves you begging for more. Inside, you’ll find hotel-room threesomes that leave no hole untouched, office domination that strips away every ounce of control, step-daddy cravings that cross every line, brutal gangbangs that push you past your limits, lesbian hookups that turn sweet into savage, gay encounters that shatter taboos, and roleplay so filthy it will stain your imagination. Every story is built to ruin you in the best way. This collection is for adults only, 18 and over. It contains explicit sex,raw language, taboo roleplay, and extreme scenarios. All stories are pure fiction and meant for erotic entertainment. If you’re under 18, stop reading now.

"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.

Angélique, 29 ans, institutrice mariée depuis cinq ans à Richard, croit vivre un mariage solide fondé sur l’amour, la foi et la fidélité. Vierge jusqu’au mariage, elle s’est donnée corps et âme à un seul homme : son mari. Malgré leur complicité apparente, un drame silencieux les ronge — leur incapacité à avoir un enfant. Si Richard se montre patient et réconfortant, la belle-famille d’Angélique ne cache pas son hostilité. Dans cette épreuve, elle s’appuie sur sa meilleure amie Edith, femme vive, séduisante et indépendante. Mais un détail inattendu — une voix, un rire au téléphone — sème le doute dans l’esprit d’Angélique. Peu à peu, elle collecte des indices : un ticket de restaurant pour deux à Yamoussoukro, un comportement étrange, une voiture rouge familière… jusqu’à l’irréfutable vision de Richard dans les bras d’Edith. Effondrée, elle trouve refuge chez sa sœur aînée Béatrice. Mais cette visite prend un tournant inattendu : Béatrice lui révèle que son propre couple repose sur un équilibre tacite de "liberté surveillée", chacun ayant une liaison discrète hors du foyer. Entre trahison, désillusion et tentation, Angélique perd ses repères. Et décide de répliquer. Froide, méthodique, elle envisage une vengeance douce-amère : séduire Eric, le fiancé d’Edith, également trompé. La douce institutrice n’a pas changé… elle s’est révélée.

“Sometimes the devil doesn’t come to destroy you—he comes to finish what love couldn’t.” --- I saw a woman at the ballroom. Average height, stunning, sexy rose lips, black wavy hair, eyes sharp as spear, solid black heel higher than a new pencil. A long indigo dress that reminds you of the sea – my favourite. Then the v-cut from the foot of the dress to the damn hip. Crazy black designs all over. But now one thing is missing— her mask. I, Rafael Goldman, am known for having everything I want, no matter what it is, and getting the sweetheart of late Eric McCoy would be a thing worth my while... Especially if this particular person is exactly like my miha. --- LATER I held my balance on Preston; his thrusts punched the air from my lungs, another made my vision spark white. I screamed his name into the steam, my hair soaked, water dancing off my eyelashes. He fucked me like atonement, like penance, like the only god he believed in lived between my thighs. He groaned against my throat and it sent shivers down my spine. I saw his pupils in mine, holding the gaze steady. He cupped my cheek and gave me an aggressive kiss before I broke it, forcing his head to my neck. He kissed my throat, teeth scraping the pulse that was trying to kill me. I laughed softly, ragged and vicious, and bit his lip until I tasted blood. That particular finger staggered back to my cunt again and forced its way into my pussy while his dick was still inside, grinding me. Suddenly his left hand came over my mouth, cupping it firm, blocking my screams. --- Content Trigger Warning !! Contains BDSM, violence, sex, strong language, misogyny which may upset some viewers... ---