Book 3 of Rathore series is here Samrat Singh Rathore, the youngest son of the Rathore family, a young doctor turned politician accused of raping his college mate Anantya Shankar Reddy, a girl whose world revolves around badminton and her brother, ties knot with the same son of the Rathore family she accused of raping. The mysterious marriage buzzed many headlines in the newspapers, emerging many bluff theories and speculations but what happened between them is just known by one person that is - the author...and I am here to narrate you the story.....so enjoy

He owns the night - reckless, ruthless, and richer than God. She's drowning in textbooks, sleepless nights, Atharva shaurya Ranawat chauhan, the youngest trillionaire mafia heir, was born with blood on his hands and chaos in his veins. He buys everything-power, silence, loyalty. But when he crashes into , a sharp-tongued medical student who wants nothing to do with his world, he finds the one thing he can't control: her. She's too stubborn to fall. He's too spoiled to be denied. He offers her protection, privilege, passion - at a price. She swore to heal. He was built to destroy. And yet, under the weight of secrets, scars, and stolen moments, something dangerous begins to bloom... A deal. A dare. A descent into obsession. In his world of velvet and violence, will she be his redemption - or his ruin?

The story revolves around the Rathore family - a powerful and deeply orthodox household where patriarchy rules every corner of the mansion. The men in this family have grown up believing that dominance equals respect, and control is love. They don't know how to value a woman's voice, emotions, or choices. For them, women are meant to obey, not speak. Tradition is their excuse, and ego is their religion. The male leads are cold, aggressive, and emotionally unavailable. They carry the burden of their family legacy like a badge of honor, believing it's their right to command and their privilege to be obeyed. In this toxic environment, women are expected to be submissive, soft-spoken, and endlessly sacrificing. But what happens when the fire within these silent women finally dares to rise?

Warning: 18+ Sajjad Ahmed Khan was an authoritative, conservative and powerful man, he was born into a feudal family. Men said he was deformed, but women dreamt of his seductive jawline. His fiance was rumoured to have a bad reputation just like him. But he didn't care about this unknown women... as a man of those times, he hated women with loose reputation. Although he carried such thoughts, his own list of lovers were never ending... What happens when this so called feudal lord meets the women who proves him wrong? (A strong crazy female lead × Softy Gunda)

𝒮𝒾𝒹𝓃𝒶𝒶𝓏 𝒮𝓉𝑜𝓇𝓎 ❤️ 𝒮𝓉𝑜𝓇𝓎 𝑜𝒻 𝑜𝒷𝓈𝑒𝓈𝓈𝒾𝓋𝑒 𝒽𝓊𝓈𝒷𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝒽𝒾𝓈 𝒸𝓊𝓉𝑒 𝓁𝒾𝓉𝓉𝓁𝑒 𝓌𝒾𝒻𝑒 💑 𝒟𝒾𝓋𝑒 𝒾𝓃 𝓉𝑜 𝓀𝓃𝑜𝓌 𝓂𝑜𝓇𝑒 𝒶𝒷𝑜𝓊𝓉 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝓈𝓉𝑜𝓇𝓎✨ #104 in love out of 2.35 million stories 🏆 #7 in care out of 120 k stories 🏆 #572 in lovestory out of 293 k Stories 🏆 #35 in Obsession out of 25 k stories 🏆 #37 in husband out of 13 k stories 🏆

Aanya I looked at the man sitting besides me tears falling from my eyes..... This was never supposed to happen I wish I could run away as far as possible from this beast..... i felt him apply sindoor in my forehead making me grasp in shock.... My life my fate was sealed with an beast, a monster..... Raghav The moment I saw her she was mine.... My baby doll, my obession and my little possession..... She is my doll I will make her dance in my tune whether she agree or not..... Try as much as possible you could to get away from me my doll.... Because In the end She is my baby doll mine and she will always be.....

Khushi who was orphan got tied with a man who love someone else and hates her to the core.

"Good girl, now, call me Daddy!" He whispers, his voice sexy as fuck. "Daddy!" I voiced out, but it came out as a whispering threat. "Louder!" He commands. "Daddy!" I yelled softly, feeling the deliciousness of how sins are made. He kisses my forehead and then reaches to the bedside table for a foil packet. "Stay still, don't move," He orders as he releases my hair. "I'll about to serve you dinner in bed, and I'll make sure all ingredients are included," He said, rubbing the swollen tits. - Brielle Damara, a soon-to-be university graduate, unexpectedly reunites with a long-lost friend she had admired for years. Though initially hesitant and saddened by their encounter, Brielle finds herself ensnared in Jace De Leon's dominant web. At first, she sees BDSM as a twisted and psychopathic path, but little does she know that it holds a tantalizing allure for her. As Jace arranges a contract, a racy romance unfolds, indulging Brielle's desire to be enslaved as his submissive. Together, they explore consensual scenes of satisfaction and misery, where whips and shackles become part of their passionate game, and sex finds a new realm of expression. This is book one of the ADDICTED TO YOU SERIES. Rated 18 - Proceed with caution

"𝑰 𝒘𝒐𝒖𝒍𝒅 𝒓𝒂𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒓 𝒉𝒂𝒗𝒆 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒉𝒂𝒕𝒆 𝒎𝒆 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒃𝒆 𝒂𝒍𝒊𝒗𝒆, 𝒕𝒉𝒂𝒏 𝒍𝒐𝒗𝒆 𝒎𝒆 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒃𝒆 𝒂 𝒎𝒆𝒎𝒐𝒓𝒚." ~~ DIVORCE AGREEMENT. My hands went numb. The paper trembled between my fingers. I looked up at him, praying it was some kind of twisted joke. But he didn't even flinch. He just pushed the pen towards me, his gaze sharp and unreadable. "Sign it, Mishti. You wanted him free. This is the cost." My chest tightened, the fever, the ache, the weight of everything crashing over me all at once. Behind me, I heard Arav struggling, his voice raw, "Don't you dare, Mishti! Don't beg to him. Don't give him that satisfaction. He should be the one apologising to you, not the other way around!" Sultan clicked his tongue, eyes narrowing. "He's still talking... making me angrier." His tone was calm, terrifyingly calm. "If I want, I can let him rot here for years. Do you want that, Mishti?" My stomach twisted. My hands were shaking uncontrollably now. He was serious. Dead serious. The inspector slid the pen into my hand. My eyes stung, the words blurring on the page. I didn't even recognize my own handwriting when I pressed the pen down, signing my name with a trembling hand. It felt like I was signing away more than just a marriage. I was signing away a part of myself. When I lifted my head, Sultan was watching me. Not triumphant, not smiling-just cold. "I want to start fresh. I'm planning to get married again. I don't want your nuisance anymore." I swear in that moment, something inside me just collapsed. Like all the years, all the love, all the pain I carried-it was for nothing. I wanted to scream, wanted to beg him to just once look at me the way he used to. He fixed his watch, straightened his cuffs, and picked up his coat like this was just another meeting that was done.