Writer Wilde Novels & Stories

The zipper of Lila’s crimson dress slid down with agonizing slowness. Cool air kissed her spine as the silk parted. The woman—call her Jade, from the emerald flash of her gown—peeled the fabric from Lila’s shoulders, letting it pool at her feet. Lila stood in nothing but black lace panties, sheer thigh-high stockings, and the heels that made her legs look endless. The man—let’s name him Victor—circled her slowly, eyes raking over every exposed inch. His gaze felt like a physical touch.

Her wolf, wiggling her tail and said " now don't miss your opportunity girl" Jacob. He'd changed his mind and come back, in spite of everything. She dipped her face into the pool to conceal a crazy grin. He had disobeyed her dismissal, she thought, with a rush of feminine power. Bad boy. She would punish him for that letter. Better yet, she would punish him right now. Let him watch her like a thief in the bushes and burn for her the way she burned for him. Let him beg for it.

I saw the marks when she changed last week. And that bite on her shoulder… I wondered if he fucked her last night? If so, this is messed up, what she's doing to Lady Rose.' Their voices tangled, bold and merciless, dragging each image through Rose’s mind. 'This morning, when he entered her room, he walked out later, fixed his cufflinks. Damn, he has no shame. But Lady Rose will fire me before she even believes that her perfect man and sweet cousin can carry on such an act on the morning of her wedding.'

“But you get my point.” “Yeah, I do.” Wilder bites his lip as if he’s thinking carefully about something. Then he says, “Do you want a fight?” “What do you mean?” “Do you want to kill some Ravagers?” “Always.” He laughs. “You’re not even going to ask what I’m talking about?” “I can’t picture a scenario where I wouldn’t want to kill Ravagers.” *** The trap Wilder sets is the first use of magic I’ve ever just fucking fallen in love with. It’s also probably the most insane thing I’ve ever seen in my life.

Wilde tried again, this time kneeling in front of her on one knee and a hard look whilst pointing at the object. “Trevor Wilde, answer me. Did you open this book?” April G’s eyes welled up and tears threatened to fall. He nodded. How he wished she did not. Her father stood and let out a breath. “Follow me, April G.” Madison followed him downstairs silently where her mother waited with a concerned look, but it faded into that of dread when she spotted her husband carrying that book. She covered her mouth to choke back a sob and Madison looked down apologetically, still oblivious to what was to come. In her room, Mr. Wilde started gathering her essentials into her bag whilst wiping her cheeks

Someone, he can easily divorce when his beloved appears. He walked toward them nonchalantly. Their gaze locked for a moment, and he stared back at her as she continued to stare at him. it was as if she was just seeing him for the first time and that didn't seem well with him. He couldn't believe there was someone in the country who was ignorant of him. Damon Willy is the world's most famous designer ever. He is known in the country for his good looks and cold attitude that most ladies consider sexy. And a hottie billionaire workaholic.

Viggo replied, referring to Scarlett's usual laptop. Scarlett immediately turned around and looked at Viggo. "Sir! I am a writer. It's clear that I need that device to write my stories." "Stories about werewolves?" Viggo responded. "Of course! I am a famous writer, you know. All my works are always sold out because of the many readers who love my stories. You would be surprised to see how famous I am among my readers," Scarlett boasted. But Viggo didn't care much about Scarlett's vanity. "I'm not interested," Viggo said, then went back to playing with his phone.

Wild Addiction volume 2. I never knew true addiction until I met her. I never truly understood what it is to crave, mind, body, and soul—until nothing mattered but fulfilling that craving. Until the only thing that mattered was easing the hollow space inside me. It was there whenever we’re apart. Like a dark hole, it lingered, intensifying until my mind was full of dark spots. Until my mind was full of easy curves, bare before me. Until my desires reflected her, bending at the waist, her pert, little arse in the air, colored red by my palm, the outline of my fingers visible against her pale skin.

I say, and he smirks. "You sought me out, Adahleene." He tsks, and I freeze. "I didn't. Leave." I say, mind reeling. "Easy," He says, hands crossed, with a persistent smile. "Before you call your sugar daddy, listen to me. I am Wilder, and you did seek me out, Flower. A part of you, your mind recognized it, and falted, seeking me out, hence, here I am." I stare at him, saying nothing, hoping he explains what this is, or I'll scream bloody murder, faster than he can say Flower.

But it had happened to the Gray’s; one of the strongest breeds of our kind. Though she had the signature silver blonde hair of a white wolf, Wilda had not turned or showed the signs of turning when she had turned thirteen, as most white wolves did. The situation had been of interest to packs around the Crimson Hills pack that was led by her late father, may the moon goddess rest his soul, and many had thought that perhaps she was a late bloomer.