Vip Novels & Stories

My name is Isabella Wright. In my fifth year of marriage to the Don of a powerful mafia family, I find out that the protection charm he gave me causes me headaches whenever I bring it with me. I take out the sachet I find in the charm and bring it to Cursley Hospital. The doctor inspects the sachet and tells me that it contains a type of slow-acting poison that doesn't just cause harm to the victim's body but also renders them infertile after a while. I cry and exclaim, "But that's impossible! My husband gave this to me! His name is Vincenzo Cursley. He's also the person who owns this hospital!" The doctor looks at me in confusion. "Miss, I think you need to visit the psychiatrist. I know Mr. Cursley and his wife. They're very close and intimate with each other. Also, Mrs. Cursley just gave birth to a baby boy not too long ago. They're both now in the VIP ward, looking at their baby." Then, the doctor shows me a photo on his phone. Vincenzo was wearing his usual black suit with the Cursley family emblem embroidered on it. He was holding a baby in his arms, and as for the woman standing next to him… I know her. Her name is Claudia Henderson. And Vincenzo has always referred to her as his adoptive sister.

Brianna Hayes is an innocent, nineteen-year-old virgin who is desperately running out of time—and money—to save her dying brother. After being wrongfully fired from her job as a maid, she makes a reckless, desperate choice: she puts on a mask and takes the stage at The Obsidian Room, the most exclusive and forbidden underground club in the city. Alexander Thorne is a ruthless, thirty-three-year-old billionaire CEO. Cold, widowed, and consumed by darkness, his only escape is commanding the VIP lounge, bending women to his absolute will. The exact moment his eyes lock onto the fragile, trembling new dancer, a twisted obsession is born. He claims her innocent body in the shadows, completely blind to her true identity. But the real game begins when morning comes. In need of a new live-in maid, Alexander hires Brianna. By day, she cleans his luxury mansion on her knees, acting as his sweet, obedient servant. By night, she begs in his bed, serving as his perfect submissive plaything. Alexander demands total control. He vows to break her innocence, training her to crawl, obey, and become his private little pet. How long can a virgin hide her secret when her master is a billionaire obsessed with her complete submission? (A pitch-black, high-spice dark romance featuring age gap, billionaire dominance, BDSM, forced submission, and explicit erotica).

CARLOS: Will she wake up if I wrap her hand around my length? My vision tunnels and I move closer to her spread legs. I’m fisting myself faster, my heart tightening in my chest. I throw my head back when the wave hits me & my cum spills onto her inner thigh. I watch it soak into the center of her cunt. She stirs but doesn't wake. Instead a beautiful word slips from her full lips "Carlos... " The word brings me to my knees. "Dreaming of your prey, pretty doll?".......................................... This is a STALKER xSTALKER DARK ROMANCE. MUTUAL OBSESSION. "Thalia Easton has one goal: kill the Don who murdered her parents. But while she’s been stalking him from the shadows, she doesn't realize he’s been breaking into her apartment and watching her sleep. Things take a different turn the night she disguises as a man to enter his VIP CLUB. Now, the hunter refuses to play the captive, even as she is bound to the side of the man she was trained to destroy. Falling for each other isn't just a betrayal, it's a death sentence. TRIGGER WARNINGS BOTH: Stalking & Surveillance Wet dreams Graphic vio lence Weapons & Threats Privacy|Home invasion MMC Somnophilia Voyeurism ＦＭＣ Mur der & Poisoning Gory mur der board Questionable morals

In the VIP lounge of an underground casino, Maeve, the Falcone family's princess, had been plied with too much hard liquor. Fueled by alcohol, someone goaded her into revealing the most shameless thing she'd ever done to win over the Don. She swirled her glass, pointed at me dealing cards behind the table, and threw her head back with a laugh. "Seven years ago, when Declan was in a coma after a shootout, I took his private phone. And I deleted the distress message that bitch sent him. Every last trace of it. Then I replied in his name: You're a burden. Go die." "You'll never guess what happened next. That idiot stood outside the safe house all night in a downpour, like a stray dog. I almost died laughing…" The room erupted in crude laughter. Only the man enthroned at the head of the table remained silent. The crystal whiskey glass in his hand shattered with a sharp crack. Blood mixed with the amber liquor, trickling over the veins on the back of his hand before dripping onto the carpet. His murderous, bloodshot eyes were locked on me. I calmly dealt the last hole card in front of him and offered a clean, white silk handkerchief. "Don Declan, you should wipe your hand. Blood on the felt is bad luck." After all, some stains never wash out.

I've had a crush on Don Luciano Damiani for ten years. Heck, I even agree to his request to sleep with him a thousand times before we finally get to announce our relationship to the world. The locations vary, be it Luciano's private shooting range or the VIP lounge. He uses every trick up his sleeve just to groom me into his personal plaything. Every time we do it, Luciano will kiss me while coaxing the answer out of me. "Do you want our relationship to go public, babe?" I've answered him "yes" 999 times. Of course, he disappoints me 999 times as well. But on the thousandth time, Luciano says, "Cecilia, let's announce our relationship on my birthday, which will be held in two days." Excitement washes over me at that moment. But that's when my best friend, Valentina Fiore, starts a video chat with me. "I lost to Luciano in a racing competition. Yesterday, I had to go to the City Hall to get our marriage registered there. "But he still intends to keep you as his mistress. That's why we shall fight for his affection to the best of our ability on fair grounds. "The next two days shall be our contending period. We'll bet on who matters to Luciano more. The loser will travel to the Republic of Azamir as a war correspondent, whereas the winner gets to attend his birthday party and announce their relationship to the world."

"That's it, baby girl. Take Daddy's cock like the good little slut you are." My boyfriend's father had me bent over his desk, hand wrapped around my throat, splitting me open with his thick cock while my boyfriend was on the line. * * * Forget what you know about love stories. This is a fucking raw, no-filter plunge into the depraved fantasies you only jerk off to when you're home alone. This collection is your VIP pass to the kind of filth that leaves you shaking—where powerful bosses bend you over their desks' and depraved strangers use your holes in dirty alleyways before vanishing into the night. We're talking about the kind of raw, pulse-pounding taboo that gets you off: forbidden age gaps, rough, messy gangbangs, public throat-fucking that steals your voice, and first times that leave you gaping, dripping, and ruined for anyone else. Consider this your final warning. This is explicit, vulgar, and engineered to soak your panties. If you can't handle stories drenched in choking, rough anal, non-con/dub-con kinks, and filthy-mouthed sluts who beg to be used like the cum-dumpsters they are, close this book now. But if you're ready to get utterly wrecked—if you're craving that full-body, mind-melting, vibrator-on-high kind of climax that leaves you a boneless, dripping mess... Your next orgasm is waiting. Turn the page. We promise you'll be a good girl for us.

I've been in a relationship with Wendy Hudson for ten years. Somehow, I'm not surprised at all when I find out that she's been cheating on me. But what surprises me is the fact that she's been cheating on me with her uncle, Timothy Zuckerman. On our wedding anniversary, Wendy finally fulfills her promise to go on another honeymoon trip with me to make it up to me for the lost one. But as soon as we arrive at the airport, her phone gets crammed with text messages instantly. All it takes is one glance at the phone for her brows to be tangled into a frown, which is weird, considering that she's the type who keeps her composure at all times. "Darling, my best friend has been hospitalized because of an acute disease. I need to visit her right now." The way Wendy speaks is very rapid. The genuine anxiety on her face makes it difficult for me to say no. As I watch her silhouette disappear from the VIP passageway, I rip up the ticket in my hands. Then, I tap on my phone to see the photo my assistant has just sent me. Heh… The truth is, Wendy's best friend is currently on a honeymoon trip with her boyfriend in another country. How is it possible for said friend to get hospitalized due to an acute disease? I'd like to see who on earth Wendy is actually visiting at the hospital!

Eric Winter controls everything around him with obsessive precision: businesses, contracts, people… and most of all, his own emotions. To him, relationships have always been simple. Desire. Clear rules. No room for attachment. That’s exactly why the contracts exist. Stevan, on the other hand, has spent most of his life surviving. By day, he endures an abusive boss inside the multinational company where he works. At night, he takes jobs he never imagined he’d accept just to keep paying for his sick mother’s treatment. Quiet, insecure, and far too used to swallowing humiliation in silence, Stevan has never believed he was the kind of man someone would truly choose. But everything changes the night Eric finds him in a VIP room. What should have been just another proposition quickly turns into something dangerous. Because Stevan doesn’t respond to Eric the way other men do. And for the first time in years, Eric loses control of himself. Between lingering stares, restrained desire, and rules breaking one by one, the two of them become trapped in a relationship that was never supposed to go beyond the limits of a contract. The problem is, some feelings don’t obey clauses. And Eric realizes far too late that maybe he doesn’t just want Stevan’s body. Maybe he wants all of him.

Elena fled her past to survive . She left her toxic family behind : Serena , the stepmother who favored her stepsister Luna , and Richard, the father who never saw her ; to chase a full scholarship at a Miami university. The only family she has now ? Mila , her fiercely loyal best friend , and Mila’s wealthy boyfriend ; who treat Elena like their own. She met Julian at a VIP club, a billionaire CEO with storm-gray eyes and one thing led to the other , they spend the night together . He vanishes at dawn . Then she found out she was pregnant a month later . Four Years later , Elena is a single mother to Leo , a sharp-eyed boy with a mysterious birthmark . She’s built a cleaning empire : Alvarez Clean & Co. — and unknowingly services Hayes Global , Julian’s empire . Then fate strikes . A hospital emergency lands her in Victoria Hayes’ path : Julian’s powerful grandmother ; who sees Leo’s birthmark and knows . When Julian returns to crush corruption at Hayes Global , he doesn’t recognize the fierce cleaner… until Leo’s face stops him cold . He’s the father . She’s the woman he never forgot . And the past is about to explode . But secrets run deeper than blood . A stolen patent from the 1980s ties the Alvarez and Hayes families in betrayal . Her hidden family resurfaces ; with vengeance . As Serena and rival CEO Marcus Thorne plot to destroy them both , Elena must choose : Trust the man who broke her… or lose everything — again.

My brother Christopher owned a boutique on Fifth Avenue. I'd gone in, picked out a few pieces, grabbed a silk scarf on the way, and was heading for the door. The clerk behind the register stopped me. "Ma'am, we'll need you to settle this now." I looked up. Her name tag said Yvonne. Unfamiliar face. Probably new. I didn't think much of it. "Just put it on the owner's account," I said politely. "He knows who I am." She gave a little snort through her nose, eyes raking from my hair down to my shoes. "We don't run accounts here. You might have the wrong store." She pushed an itemized bill across the counter. Four hundred thousand dollars. I scanned the line items. Personal Style Consultation. Premium Fitting Service. VIP Client Private Service. Every single charge cost more than the clothes themselves. I let out a short laugh. "I'm a Whitfield. Christopher's my brother. Whatever this is, he can deal with it at home." Her smile got uglier. "Anyone can claim to be a Whitfield, sweetheart. Are you trying to skip out on the bill, or are you just trying to embarrass yourself?" I didn't bother arguing. I pulled out my phone and texted Christopher: [Fire the clerk named Yvonne in the next ten minutes, or I pull every dollar I have in this store.]