Welcome Home Eyes

Isabella was born in the mafia, but she wasn’t born of royalty. All she knew was pain and ran away from a life of chaos and destruction before it could kill her. Now, she’s older and a defense attorney living in New York City. All was going well until she received a letter from the one person who has always looked out for her. She was getting married and wanted Isabella to come home and witness her union. Isabella wanted to refuse, but she knew she had to do it. Now that she’s back home, she’s thrusted back into the flames of Mafia life. A certain man has his eyes on her and won’t let her leave. What will happen when Isabella learns that the very man who sets her body ablaze, is a man who runs the same Mafia she’s running from? This is a story about finding love in all the wrong places, and how forgiving the past can open you up to a beautiful future.

Disclaimer; This novel Contains Adult explicit content which is not for the faint hearted. welcome to Lovia's world. where revenge is served cold. where love feels like currency and hearts get broken. Lovia got cheated on by her boyfriend with her own best friend. Now it's time to ruin everything between them ..not just them but anyone who contributed to this betrayal.

My sister discovers that she resembles a CEO's true love. To take her place, she invites the true love out. She wants to orchestrate an accident to kill the woman. I arrive before it can happen and put a stop to the whole shebang. On our way home, I try to talk sense into her. Julian Stewart singlehandedly built his empire and is ruthless. He'll eventually see through her tricks, which will land our whole family in hot water. She nods in agreement. However, when we get home, she laces my drink with poison. When I'm on the brink of death, she whispers, "You're just jealous because I have a face that can help me marry a rich man. I'll ruin you since you've stood in my way." When I open my eyes again, I'm taken back to the day she meets Julian's true love.

In a post apocalyptic world, where staying alive is an impossibility, home is in the Compound, surrounded by prison cells and strangers that are family. Keeping them safe is my priority but its hard to keep my focus when she wont leave me alone. Shes too young, too innocent to be tainted by me and yet I cant keep my eyes off of her. Things get really difficult the day we return from our latest mission, and now its impossible to ignore her, but I have to keep her alive if I want any chance of corrupting her.

With a bag of vegetables gifted by the previous tenant in hand, I was on my way to collect rent from the third household when I unexpectedly ran into someone at the entrance of the community. The man frowned, his eyes fixed on the vegetables I carried, as though he couldn't fathom how I had ended up like this after leaving him. Following his gaze, I instinctively shifted the vegetables behind my back. My eyes dropped to the muddy water on the pavement, and I never would have imagined bumping into my ex-boyfriend—the one who had grown up with a silver spoon—in this aging neighborhood. He noticed my movement, and for a moment, something flickered in his expression: a mix of pity and recognition. "Since you've already learned your lesson," he said, "come back with me." At his words, I instinctively stepped back half a pace. "Who said I'm going back with you?" My rejection seemed to sting, darkening his face. "I know you're still blaming me for giving Rachel a child," he muttered, "but it's been three years. Isn't it time to stop? As long as you come back, we can be the same as before." Three years, huh? How quickly time had passed. Thinking of my little girl at home, still babbling her first words, I couldn't help but smile and shake my head. "Let's leave it at that. Go home and live your life with Rachel. My daughter's waiting for me to go back and make her food."

So, Mrs. Knight,” he said, voice dripping with mockery, “do we have a deal?” I stared at his hand. Then at his face. Then at the empty shot glasses. I slapped my palm into his. “It’s not Mrs. Knight anymore,” I said, squeezing hard. “And you, Mr. Arrogant, just hired the most vindictive assistant you’ll ever have.” His fingers tightened around mine, warm and strong and promising all kinds of chaos. “Welcome to the dark side, Isabella.” Behind us, Kayla whispered to herself and few people in the coffee shop, “Y’all, I’m literally witnessing the start of a mafia romance…” Lucian’s eyes never left mine. Something electric and dangerous crackled between us. And in that moment, drunk off tequila and vengeance, I signed my soul with the Devil. I said no to Alexander Knight at the altar. Then I said yes to Lucian Voss in the rain, still wearing my wedding dress... Because my fiancee betrayed me twenty minutes before we tied the knots. With Lucian, it was a fake relationship stringed with mind-blowing nights. Until I found out the man warming my bed is the “dead” heir Alexander tried to kill, and the baby I’m carrying could destroy them both.

Being a mother can be tough, but always remember in the eyes of your child, no one does it better than you. Even when her soul is tired, I will always find strength for her children. Motherhood is amazing. And then it is really hard. And then it is incredible. And then it is everything in between. So, hold onto the good, breathe through the bad, and welcome the wildest and most wonderful ride of our life. - A daughter's love is one of a father's true joys. The love of a daughter for her father is second to none. The mother was her role model before she even knew what that word was. The mother’s love has always been a sustaining force for our family, and one of the greatest joys is seeing her integrity, her compassion, her intelligence reflected in her children. - Fathers are the first friend you make and the last love of your life. A father's love is eternal and without end. The happiness of his, is their children. The highest honor the father could ever receive is being called father. — Copyright 2022 © Xyrielle All Rights Reserved No Copy Stories No Plagiarism Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, business, events and incidents are the products of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

Welcome to Pornstation. No plot. No sweetness. No fade-to-black. Just raw, dripping, filthy sex that will leave you soaking and aching for more. From massive cocks stretching tight holes to messy cream-filled endings, each story in this collection is designed to make you cum as you read. If you’re ready for wall-slamming fucks, obscene dirty talk, and shameless pleasure that never stops, this is your station. One-handed reading highly recommended.

WARNING: MATURE CONTENT‼️ This story contains themes of BDSM, including elements of dominance and submission, bondage, name-calling kinks (such as terms like "whore"), consensual rough play, and some scenes that involve violence. If these topics could be triggering or uncomfortable for you, I strongly recommend proceeding with caution or choosing a different story. But if you're into all this delicious chaos—welcome, and get ready for the ride of your life. Things are about to get wild. Enjoy! 😉 ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Why was I thinking about his lips? Was I really that starved for attention? I couldn't tear my eyes away. Maybe it was the alcohol, or maybe it was just the sheer need for something to distract me. But it wasn't just his lips. His jaw was sharp, the muscles of his neck visible beneath the fabric of his shirt. He looked like someone who could make me forget everything. His voice broke through my thoughts. "Something wrong?" I blinked, shaking my head, forcing my eyes to pull away from him. "No. Nothing." I felt his gaze still on me, making me feel like he could see right through all the bullshit I was trying to wear. I wasn't sure if it was the alcohol, the heartbreak, or the way he looked at me, but suddenly it didn't feel like a mistake. It felt like something I needed. Without thinking, I stood, my body moving before my mind could catch up. My heart raced as I stepped closer to him, his brow furrowing slightly in confusion. He was surprised, but I didn't care. I grabbed his shirt, pulled him down to me, and pressed my lips to his.

"I didn’t know I was marrying two people. He wore the suit, but she pulled the strings. The day I walked down the aisle, eyes locked with the man I loved, I thought I had found peace. I thought I was finally leaving behind the noise of my childhood, the ache of loneliness, and the years I spent praying for a love that would choose me, only me. But no one told me that some men never truly leave their mothers. They marry, yes,but their hearts remain tangled in an invisible umbilical cord, one that stretches past vows, past bedrooms, past boundaries. I moved into our new home, only to find that the walls had ears, hers. We lived in separate flats, but it never truly felt like my space. My marriage was a room she walked into, uninvited but ever present. Her opinions dripped into our arguments, her eyes followed me from behind lace curtains, and her voice echoed in decisions that should have belonged to me and my husband. At first, I kept quiet. I told myself it was cultural. Respect. Family. Then I told myself it was temporary. Then I stopped telling myself anything at all, because nothing I said made a difference. This is not a story of hate. It’s a story of love, tested by bloodlines, boundaries, and a battle I never asked to fight. This is my truth. The marriage I thought was mine. The home that never really felt like home. And the rules I never agreed to, but had to live by, simply because… I was under her roof".