| 18+ | Damian looked so different with his shirt off and a crop in his hand. He felt more real: no longer wearing the mask of the good doctor, he was the Exorcist, the master over my wildest fears, the stones on the shore over which my ocean of madness could crash without fear. He trailed the crop over my throat, down my chest. "Your demons have not been playing nicely," he said, a warning in his tone. Goosebumps prickled up my arms as the smooth leather teased over my navel. "No, sir. They haven't. They don't much like you." He grinned, and it was such a wicked sight that my stomach clenched up with desire. I desperately wanted to feel those teeth, the softness of those lips. Patience was nearly impossible. "I must admit I don't much like them either," he growled. "Turn around. Hands on the wall. Spread your legs." I obeyed, my breath catching in my throat. I felt him lean close, his breath hot on my neck as he left kisses along my hairline. "But they don't own your body, do they, darling? Who owns this body?" "I do, sir." My breathing shuddered. The crop tapped between my thighs. "That's right. And who have you chosen to give your body to?" "To you, sir." × × × 18 year old Samara Garfield is on the run - from her past, from her desires, from the wicked voices in her head. Everything seems to be catching up with her when she meets Damian Hearst, a doctor with perverted desires of his own. With a legion of demonic beings eager to overtake her, the good doctor may indeed be the only one who can save her. But as their dark pasts become ever more entangled and hope for salvation begins to fade, can love grow in the face of death? × Highest Rankings × #1 in Steampunk #1 in Kinky #40 in Horror

"How do you say idiot in Italian?" "Bell'uomo." [ℎ𝑎𝑛𝑑𝑠𝑜𝑚𝑒 𝑚𝑎𝑛] "You're a bell'uomo." .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. Isabelle Ariti just needed someone to talk to, and Leonardo Rossi happened to be there. He was her escape and she was his. Her obsession with sunglasses and constant talking went well with his quite behavior and glares he sent to everyone else. They weren't a likely match but somehow they understood each other more than anyone else could. He was rude and blunt to everyone; everyone but her. She was extroverted and bold to all; especially him. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. Isabelle Ariti just wanted waffles and to meet someone new. She didn't expect to spark the mafias dons right hand mans interest. Leonardo Rossi just wanted to be alone and have coffee. He wasn't expecting the talkative girl that didn't know what a filter was to rope him in with her unexpected comments. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. "Do you love me?" "Endlessly." .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. The chapters get better as the story goes on/theres character development Words: 137,631k .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

So how do you meet a killer, or in my case, a serial killer? You would think that I would meet him in a darkened alleyway, or perhaps on a hike through the forest as I unwillingly stumbled upon his bloody dumping grounds. That would make for an adrenaline-filled start to our story, our dance of death, but that's not how it happened at all. No, I met my killer where a lot of people meet these days. And no it wasn't on tinder or with any of those other damned dating apps. He wasn't that kind of serial killer. No, I met him at the local grocery store, I met him at my place of work. Just my luck right? Some would call it destiny, but in all honesty it was all just a throw of a dice, and a late night shift at work that needed to be filled. Warning: This twisted story is not intended for a younger audience. It will contain violence, sex, foul language, death, mind games, and so on. Stop reading if you are easily triggered by such things.