She reaches for my right hand, brings it between her legs without asking, and drags my fingers through her. Once. Twice. Slow, filthy strokes that coat my skin in her slick heat. She's drenched, so wet the sound is unmistakable, and the scent of her arousal floods the room like a drug. She presses my soaked fingers to my mouth, smearing herself across my bottom lip, my tongue, the corner of my jaw, down the column of my throat until I taste nothing but her. Then she leans in, voice ragged against my ear. "Feel how easily I get this wet just thinking about owning you?" she whispers. "That's what you're walking away from if you don't rewrite the contract exactly how I want it." My knees go painfully numb, before I feel them again. She sees it. Her smile is slow, cruel, victorious. She steps back into the crimson silk, zips it with a sound like a blade sliding home, and smooths it over her hips as if she didn't just destroy me in under thirty seconds. _______________________________________________________________________________ Two powerful women. One vicious high-profile murder case. A private contract that binds them in ways ink never warned about; obedience traded for torment, defiance punished with slow, aching pleasure. Milan Moretti: an untouchable Chicago prosecutor, wealthy and feared, who rules courtrooms by day and claims craving women by night, denying release until they break and beg. She never loses. Never bends. Never obsesses... until Zara Winslow, her brilliant, defiant mirror, crashes back into her world and awakens something feral. Forced together amid media storms, extreme tension and secrets, their rivalry explodes into a binding agreement where desire is leverage, punishment is exquisite, and control slips into consuming obsession. Who will shatter first in her hands?

After a painful betrayal shatters her engagement, twenty-five-year-old Amina Grimaldi leaves behind the sunlit streets of Italy for a quiet new life in London. All she wants is to teach, to start over, and to forget. But when she steps into her classroom at Rosehill Academy for Girls, she meets seven-year-old June Wilson-a bright, thoughtful child who slowly begins to open a locked part of Amina's heart. And then there's June's mother. Elizabeth Wilson is everything Amina isn't: older, commanding, impeccably composed. A powerful CEO with little time for distractions-or emotions. But when a chance encounter at a bookshop leads to coffee, the lines between parent and teacher begin to blur. As parent-teacher conferences draw near and stolen glances give way to deeper truths, Amina and Elizabeth find themselves drawn into a quiet tension neither expected. What begins with shared silences and subtle shifts becomes a story of trust, healing, and the kind of love that arrives softly... but changes everything. ••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••• -WLW -Age Gap -Smut

(18+ READERS ONLY! NSFW CONTENT) What happens when two guarded people, each carrying secrets, are forced into each other's orbit in the most domestic, inconvenient way? Elliot is 22 years old, broke and utterly helpless. Sloane is 43, divorced, and completely loaded How will Elliot and Sloane learn to navigate each other, even when every part of them says they shouldn't? Updates every 2-3 days! You can keep up with the characters via my TikTok @yearningoleander

BDSM 18+ "𝘙𝘦𝘺𝘯𝘢. 𝘖𝘶𝘵 𝘰𝘧 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘣𝘦𝘥," 𝘐𝘳𝘪𝘴 𝘰𝘳𝘥𝘦𝘳𝘦𝘥, 𝘷𝘰𝘪𝘤𝘦 𝘴𝘰𝘧𝘵 𝘣𝘶𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘥 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘢𝘶𝘵𝘩𝘰𝘳𝘪𝘵𝘺. 𝘙𝘦𝘺𝘯𝘢'𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘳𝘰𝘢𝘵 𝘣𝘰𝘣𝘣𝘦𝘥 𝘪𝘯 𝘢 𝘩𝘢𝘳𝘥 𝘴𝘸𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘰𝘸. 𝘏𝘦𝘳 𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘵 𝘧𝘭𝘶𝘵𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘦𝘥 𝘴𝘰 𝘷𝘪𝘰𝘭𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘭𝘺 𝘪𝘵 𝘢𝘭𝘮𝘰𝘴𝘵 𝘩𝘶𝘳𝘵, 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦 𝘢 𝘣𝘪𝘳𝘥 𝘣𝘢𝘵𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘪𝘵𝘴𝘦𝘭𝘧 𝘢𝘨𝘢𝘪𝘯𝘴𝘵 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘳𝘪𝘣𝘴. "𝘙𝘦𝘺𝘯𝘢, 𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘺." 𝘔𝘢𝘳𝘢'𝘴 𝘷𝘰𝘪𝘤𝘦 𝘤𝘶𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘳𝘰𝘶𝘨𝘩 𝘴𝘩𝘢𝘳𝘱𝘭𝘺, 𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘯, 𝘥𝘳𝘪𝘱𝘱𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘸𝘢𝘳𝘯𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘢𝘴 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘥𝘢𝘳𝘬 𝘦𝘺𝘦𝘴 𝘭𝘰𝘤𝘬𝘦𝘥 𝘰𝘯 𝘙𝘦𝘺𝘯𝘢'𝘴 𝘧𝘢𝘤𝘦. 𝘙𝘦𝘺𝘯𝘢 𝘧𝘳𝘰𝘻𝘦, 𝘣𝘰𝘥𝘺 𝘳𝘪𝘨𝘪𝘥, 𝘤𝘢𝘶𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘣𝘦𝘵𝘸𝘦𝘦𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘵𝘸𝘰 𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘮𝘢𝘯𝘥𝘴. "𝘐-𝘐..." "𝘠𝘰𝘶 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘺 𝘸𝘢𝘯𝘵 𝘵𝘰 𝘰𝘣𝘦𝘺 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘵𝘪𝘦𝘥 𝘶𝘱," 𝘐𝘳𝘪𝘴 𝘮𝘶𝘳𝘮𝘶𝘳𝘦𝘥, 𝘵𝘪𝘭𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘥 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘢 𝘴𝘭𝘺 𝘴𝘮𝘪𝘳𝘬, "𝘰𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘨𝘶𝘯?" 𝘔𝘢𝘳𝘢'𝘴 𝘫𝘢𝘸 𝘤𝘭𝘦𝘯𝘤𝘩𝘦𝘥, 𝘪𝘳𝘳𝘪𝘵𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯 𝘧𝘭𝘢𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘢𝘤𝘳𝘰𝘴𝘴 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘧𝘢𝘤𝘦 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦 𝘢 𝘴𝘱𝘢𝘳𝘬. Two obsessions. One girl.

Jenny Cartwright was the kind of girl everyone in Willow Creek claimed to love-sweet, helpful, always smiling. She was a straight-A student and part of the popular clique at Willow Creek High. But unlike the typical high school queen bee, Jenny never mocked or bullied anyone. She treated everyone with kindness, regardless of their background, social standing, or quirks. She had plenty of friends-and, as far as anyone knew, not a single enemy. But a week before junior prom, Jenny's body was found in a decaying alley on the edge of town-beaten, bruised, and horrifyingly mutilated. She'd been perfectly fine the day before. So what happened to her? Who could have done this-and why? Highest ranking: No# 1 in INVESTIGATION. #1 in SOLVE. #1 in SOLVING. #11 in DECEPTION. #1 in MURDER MYSTERY

Valeria didn't rush. She never did. Inez was pinned beneath her, wrist locked overhead, the hold precise and impersonal. Not pain. Control. Inez scoffed anyway. "That's it?" she sneered. "I've had tutors scarier than you." Valeria said nothing. The silence pressed in. "You don't scare me," Inez added, louder. Brattier. "You just-" "Enough." One word. Flat. Final. Valeria lifted Inez's chin with two fingers, detached as a correction. "Look at me," she said coolly. "If you're going to embarrass yourself, do it properly." Inez laughed, brittle. "You think this makes you powerful?" "I don't think," Valeria replied. "I decide." Her gaze never wavered. "You provoke because it's the last control you have." "I don't belong to you," Inez snapped. Valeria leaned in, voice razor-thin. "You are my wife. You belong to consequences." She released her grip. "Say it." "No." Valeria waited. The quiet broke Inez, she hated being ignored. "...I'll behave, I'll be a good girl" Inez muttered. "Specify." Inez swallowed hard. "...I'll be your good girl" Valeria stepped back, already distant. "Good," she said. "Remember why." #1 older women-13th February (FAST PACE BOOK)

​Seven years ago, Ling Sirilak Kwong and Orm Kornnaphat Sethratanapong promised "forever" in a world that seemed to belong only to them. Their love was a masterpiece, eventually giving life to Tatjana, their "Tati"-a child born of science and a million prayers, carried in Orm's womb and cherished in Ling's arms. For four years, their home was filled with the sound of Tati's laughter and the smell of baby powder and sunlight. ​Then, the silence came. ​What started as a fever became a nightmare that didn't end. After a grueling year of hospital hallways, whispered diagnoses, and desperate midnight vigils, Tati's little heart stopped. ​Now, the house that used to be a sanctuary is a mausoleum. Orm is drowning in a grief so profound she has forgotten how to live; she sees Tati in every shadow and blames Ling for the strength she displays. She views Ling's return to work and her quiet composure as a betrayal-an act of moving on. ​But Ling isn't moving on; she is merely holding her breath. Behind closed doors, Ling is crumbling, haunted not only by the loss of her daughter but by the slow, agonizing disappearance of the woman she loves. Every argument is a scream for help that goes unheard. Every accusation from Orm is a knife to Ling's heart. ​When the weight of the resentment becomes heavier than the love they once shared, Orm asks for the one thing Ling never thought she'd give: A divorce.