Chelsea Ward

My n*ppl*s strain against the lace fabric, begging for his mouth while I squeeze my thighs together, slick heat smearing between my folds. His voice alone—calm, commanding—does what my husband's c*ck never could. "It tightens when I come," I whisper, cheeks burning. "And penetration?" he asks, eyes locked on mine. "Shallow... or deep, with something thick enough to stretch you until you break?" I can't look away. Memories flood back: his grip on my hips, that fat c*ck slamming home from behind while I clutched the sink, biting back moans so no one would hear. Deeper. Always deeper. Full. Ruined. *** A nun's trembling fingers clean blood from a mafia lord's chest while he whispers exactly how he'll make her scream his name against cold stone walls. A step-sister's jealousy boils over when her brother brings home a girlfriend—until he drags her into the woods and fucks the possessiveness right out of her. A shy girl in the gym mirror watches her beast of a trainer's hands linger too long, praising her curves until "good girl" becomes the only word she can whimper to. And in a billionaire's mansion, a modest maid learns the twins didn't hire her to help clean—they hired her to take them both, deep and relentless, until she's dripping down her thighs. Forbidden touches. Broken vows. Power that bends to raw need. Lust wins. Every filthy time. Some affairs end in regret. These affairs always end with someone begging for more. If you want more breathtaking dirty stories, feel free to click on it.

"Say it like you mean it, darling," he purred, leaning in and licking my neck, "and I might stop." My mother got remarried... and cursed me in the process. I thought moving into this mansion would be the worst part of it. I was wrong. Because living here means living under the same roof with them. The Varkas brothers. Beautiful. Dangerous. Possessive. And absolutely, devastatingly off-limits. They call me "stepsister. " But the way they look at me? The way they touch me? It's anything but brotherly. There's something wrong with them. Something not... human. I can feel it in the way their eyes flash when they're angry. In the way their bodies burn hotter than they should. In the way they move, like predators in the dark. I don't know what they are. But I know one thing... whatever's hunting me now, I won't survive it. Not if I keep letting them close. Not if I keep letting them ruin me with their hands, their mouths, their filthy words. I should run. I should fight. But the truth is... part of me doesn't want to escape. Because whatever they are... I crave it. And once they claim me, there's no coming back. One more thing... All three of them touch me, all three of them make me feel things, but there's one in particular... One... AUTHOR'S NOTE: A fair warning before you open this book; this isn't a sweet romance kind of book. It's dark, filled with sensual fantasies, fleshing longings, erotic musings, and lots, and lots of smut. So if this is your kind of vibe, "Welcome, princess and make sure you wear your seat belt. " But if this is not, then...

"You have this beauty that captivates men, don’t you? There were plenty of naked women in this room, but the second you walked in, the men lost control. They wanted a piece of you. They wanted to own you." His fingers trail down my jaw, tilting my chin up. "Not knowing you already belong to me." I swallow hard, my breath caught in my throat. He moves away, settling into a chair with ease. He unbuttons his coat, leans back, and spreads his legs apart like a king, which I guess he is... And then, his voice turns lethal. "From now on, Ariella Costa, you are mine to use. Mine to play with. Mine to do with as I please." The words hit me like a heart attack. "Your body belongs to me. Your mind belongs to me. Your soul belongs to me." He smirks, his dark eyes locking onto mine. "I own you."