Wicked Intentions Novels & Stories

They say love is stronger than lust. But Niu believed otherwise. Love might be powerful, sure—but the pull of raw desire? That was even stronger. Still, maybe it depends on the person. When someone cheats, they know the risks. They know they’re about to hurt someone they love. But the thrill? The rush? It’s so intoxicating that it’s almost impossible to resist. Once you give in, it becomes easier to do it again… until you’re hooked. Niu had always loved Leanne—for as long as he could remember. But the night he saw Kate dancing wildly on the floor, temptation hit him so hard that he forgot about everything—his feelings for Leanne, his vows to Claire, even his marriage itself.

“I… I thought you were just…” “Fucking you for the hell of it?” he finished for her, turning his head to meet her eyes again. He gave a slow nod. “Maybe at first, yeah. When I first saw you, I indeed wanted you. Wanted to bury myself in you, use it to help you out. But later…” He sighed, voice dropping. “Later it hit me. I didn’t want to be another guy who used you and left you worse off. It suddenly felt like it after I thought about it for a while. It made me feel… wicked.”

Danielle puts a hand on her hip and stares at Owen. “It’s not a dirty joke,” he deadpans. “Two guys walk into the bar, both with the intent to rob the place at gunpoint. The first guy doesn’t go through with it, even though he walked in the doors with the intention of doing it. The second guy does rob the place.” “Okay…what’s the moral question?” “Who’s worse? Or are they both as bad since they both intended on doing the same thing?”

What about the waste bins that had leftover food just poured into them with no precaution for the smell and the maggots the rotten food was sure to promise? I nearly lost the delicious breakfast I had that morning just by looking at the place. I knew without being told that the Vicious woman brought me over just to tell me to tidy up the place. Still, I couldn't wrap my head around the fact that she wanted to be that cruel to me.

Nick cried out, "Just put your claws away and don't touch my fucking hair." Jeremy couldn't believe how quickly he had gotten the answer he wanted. The interrogation process seemed like a joke, and he never imagined that it could be this way. He thought he would have to draw some blood to get Nick to talk, but it turned out to be much easier than he had expected. And the fact that Nick gave in so easily made him wonder if he had targeted the right person. Nick was clearly a werewolf, and yet he didn't seem to have any loyalty to his pack.

Slowly, I faded out, the last thing on my mind being three words. Welcome to wickedness.

- There would be detailed graphic scenes of abuse, sexual assault and other highly disturbing scenes. Do NOT read if you are triggered by- -Violence -Sexual abuse -Dark Manipulation -Mental Abuse -Physical Abuse -Blood -Gore -Mistreatment -Degradation I’m giving all the warnings beforehand, this book is not for faint hearts. It is extremely dark and disturbing! Meant for those who want to push their limits on the dark side. Hope you have a good read.

Caden Vitaro had always been the guy who rarely show his real emotion. He had learned to wear a mask long before he became a public icon. As much as he wanted to rip out the façade he created to protect, not only himself, but his band members as well, he could not just walk away from it all. Unknowingly, he became a puppet of his own shadow. His own greed and selfishness. Maybe that was the reason why he was getting punished.

I just ignored her and forced myself to sleep. "Jane?" I heard my sister mention my name. "Hmm?" "How about that Waltridge guy?" She added. I woke up but didn't look at his behavior. "I think he likes you." "How did you know? You didn't talk, did you?." That's what Aunt Gisselle told me before my Moving Up. I didn't believe what she said, but when my sister Jace mentioned it again, I was hesitant now. "I just know." "You're just imagining things, Jace. Go find a guy. You're twenty-three."

Each interaction dripped with malice, a twisted tango between broken souls trapped in their personal hells. As I poured drinks with a macabre precision, I wove a web of deceit, engaging in whispered conversations that dripped with malice. The bar became a theatre of wickedness, a place where secrets were exchanged like cursed trinkets, each word laced with a dark, insidious intent. I reveled in the decadence, embracing the darkness that consumed me, for it was in the depths of despair that I sought my redemption.