+18 Igor patted his thigh-slow, deliberate. "Come here," he said, voice thick with amusement. "Sit on my lap. You look tense." Etta stood her ground, she didn't want him to win. His smirk deepened "You want to see what happens when I ask again?" **** When Etta agrees to a spontaneous trip to Russia with her best friend, she expects snow, sightseeing, and maybe a little adventure-not to be hunted down by a brooding, relentless police officer with icy dark grey eyes and a claim that burns. Igor doesn't ask. He takes. And from the moment he sees her... she's his. WARNING: This story contains dark themes, obsession, NASTY sexual scenes, Reader discretion is advised.

It's sicken . The overwhelming love , but you keep coming back . It pulls you in like a magnet refusing to let go . You run he chases . You leave he follows . You hide he finds . You cry he torments . It's an obsession you can't let go of . Can your heart handle it ? The sorrow The pain The love The guilt The beauty The ugly The light The darkness It's everything and more . It's like a drug , you can't stop using . You'd overdose from it and die happily. _______________________________________

Here I was, 4 A.M in my shower, thinking about how good my cock would feel buried inside her pussy. How desperate I am to destroy her insides and breed her until sh- no-I couldn't handle it anymore. I imagined her legs wrapped around my waist as I fucked her senselessly. Our eyes would lock while I whispered sweet nothings. Then I'd flip her over, arching her back and digging her head into the mattress, suffocating her just a little, and then ramming into her without warning. I sound like a sadist but I can't help it. The things she makes my body do, I've never felt this with another woman. June is obsessed with Amirlya. Severely obsessed. So obsessed that he has control on her every move, eyes on her every step, and lurks in the shadows when she doesn't notice. Amirlya on the other hand just wants to be left alone. With years of tormenting, she is tired of constantly falling victim to June's strange possessiveness and frightening authority over her. However, that all changes when he strangely decides to reform himself, into a better man, for her sake. Will his attempt at improvement woo her over? Or make things worse? WILL EDIT AFTER IM DONE WITH THE BOOK Started: 10/26/2024 Finished: 12/1/2024 #69 bwwm 11/16/24 #59 bwwm 11/19/24 #39 bwwm 11/19/24 #31 bwwm 11/23/24 #23 bwwm 11/24/24 #2 aggressive 12/1/24 #21 bwwm 1/2/25 #19 bwwm 1/3/25 #16 bwwm 1/5/25

Armand Volkova is not a man who believes in fate. At twenty-five, the Russian-French mafia heir is already a name soaked in blood and whispered in fear. Tattooed, cold-eyed, and carved from stone, Armand moves through Manhattan like a wolf in a designer suit-dangerous, untouchable, and completely detached from the glittering world around him. That is, until she crashes into him-literally. Aimará Dunham is everything he's not. A Spanish-Ethiopian Olympic figure skater from London, she's all soft curls, warm brown eyes, and the kind of poise only the world's stage can give. Graceful, brilliant, and entirely unaware of the storm she just collided with. Living alone in Manhattan for college, she only wanted coffee that day... not a collision with the city's most dangerous man. For Armand, it's love at first sight. Obsession, even. A fixation he can't understand-but doesn't want to escape. He wants her. Needs her. Not just in his bed, but in his arms, in his life, in every bloodstained part of it. For Aimará, he's an enigma-hauntingly beautiful, but cold, strange, and far too intense. Their connection is undeniable, but hers is a slow burn... complicated by instincts that scream he's hiding something lethal. As secrets unravel and her perfect world begins to darken, Aimará finds herself pulled deeper into Armand's orbit. But when the truth surfaces-when she discovers who he truly is-will she run? Or will she stay with the devil who treats her like an angel?

"You belong right here, Elysia. Not in New York with Julian, or out somewhere in the city galavanting around with Andrew, or anywhere near Canelley," He mumbled against a fresh mark on the base of my neck. "Right here, nowhere else." For two years Elysia Leal and Salvatore Grant's relationship had been strictly professional. She ran his errands and he ran his business. That is, until, a situation at work puts them in an awkward position causing the lines in their relationship to blur and feelings to ensue.

"𝐇𝐨𝐰 𝐛𝐞𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐢𝐟𝐮𝐥 𝐝𝐨 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐤 𝐈 𝐚𝐦?" "𝐁𝐞𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐢𝐟𝐮𝐥 𝐞𝐧𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡 𝐭𝐨 𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐜𝐥𝐨𝐬𝐞𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐈'𝐥𝐥 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐠𝐞𝐭 𝐭𝐨 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐯𝐞𝐧." ... Antoinette Santil has spent the past nineteen years of her life concealed from the reality of the real world. Her day-to-day routine consisted of ballet practice, bookstore, and gardening. Even though the ballerina was aware of her monotonous lifestyle, she never had the urge to divulge the actuality of her life, That is, until she got wrapped up into Micheal Benedict's hurricane. His past three years were spent inside the New York federal prison and after being released the only thing Micheal Benedict wanted was to be alone. That was until he encountered the same doe-eyed girl that his entire family has forbidden him from even speaking to his entire life. Despite them being polar opposites and prohibited from being around each other, the two find themselves extremely intrigued by one another. But it doesn't take them long to find out exactly why their families didn't want them engaging with each other... But without rain, there's no flowers.

▪️▪️▪️▪️▪️▪️▪️▪️▪️▪️▪️▪️▪️▪️▪️▪️ Kai tightened his hand around my hand. For a second, I thought I wasn't able to breathe. I wish I could explain how Kai is able to make me feel whenever I'm around him. It's like something just gets over me. I feel happy. I feel safe. Why can't I just bring myself to say yes? "I'll wait for you." He said. The yearning in his voice could have knocked the wind out of me. I looked deeply into Kai's eyes, and that was when all the constant swarming in my mind paused. I could no longer fight it. I wanted Kai. ▪️▪️▪️▪️▪️▪️▪️▪️▪️▪️▪️▪️▪️▪️▪️▪️ Nineteen-year-old Celeste Dumonte is just trying to find her footing in college when she unexpectedly catches the eye of the university's star quarterback. What begins as a thrilling romance soon collides with the shadows of her past and the shadows of her family's past. Kai Stone, is reeling from a painful breakup that's left him questioning who he is beyond football. When he meets Celeste, her quiet strength and complicated past draw him in deeper than he ever expected. What begins as an a spark quickly grows into something that feels like destiny.

Devout Catholic. Daughter of the respectful Lawyers in their city . An average college girl who uncovers secrets after marrying a Sicilian man

For a long time all he's ever known was loneliness and pain. That is, until he saw her. To him, she was the most beautiful thing in the world. From the shine in her eyes to the curve of her lips, he felt his heart beat a little faster whenever he saw her. She was clueless as to who he was and little did she know, he saved her life before. After waiting so long for her, he decided it's finally time for them to be together. "I will protect you from any harm should it come to you," he whispered. She looked away, struggling in the man's grip. "I hate you," she spat and with those three words, he felt his heart break.

"Y-You smoke too m-much" Arabella pouts but she's already sliding the cigarette from his fingers gentle as anything stubbing it out in the soil of the tiny succulent he keeps on his desk the one she gave him three weeks ago that he somehow hasn't killed yet. Lucien stared at her. His green eyes catching the adorable smile already brightening her face. No one touches his things. Yet she's touching his hand now her thumb brushing his knuckles where the skin's gone slightly rough, and his chest does whatever the fucking fluttery thing it always does when she looks at him like that. "And you" he starts voice wrecked already. Fucking pathetic. "You talk too much." But he doesn't even mean it. Honestly, he could drown in the beautiful, soft sound pouring from those rosy lips. Those rosy lips that seem to babble about anything and everything. Those very lips he so desperately craves on his. Fuck. 𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶָ🐿️་༘࿐ She's sunshine in a broken world-bubbly, kind, stuttering through her wildest thoughts, finding beauty in colorful flowers and joy in silly romance novels. He's ice in a tailored suit, CEO of a company he never wanted, grumpy at 6 AM, hell, even grumpy at midnight, smoking through his stress just to feel something burn. She talks too much when she's excited. And that's basically always. He hasn't had a real conversation in years. And frankly, he doesn't care to. She's struggling, working in various jobs and surviving on cheerios and hope, escaping a past that still texts her at 2 AM. He's rich, cold, avoiding his parents' weekly "why are you still single" dinners by working himself into the ground. She's all soft edges and "have a lovely day" to strangers. He's all sharp lines and "get out of my fucking face" before coffee. They shouldn't fit. They don't fit. Yet somehow she's the only one whose blabber he doesn't want to silence with harsh words but with sweet kisses. 𔓘All Rights Reserved𔓘