The end of the year is two weeks away, which means it's time for the final project. Baby Project 2.0 Not only will two students need to raise a baby together, but they will need to do so while living together for two weeks. Two weeks of Lane Evans and Dawn Caparelli. Alone. No parents. No teachers. No supervision. Copyright © 2014 IziKing. All rights reserved.

Published under Pop Fiction/Summit Media. She's rich, he's not. She's the student body president, he's struggling to pass math. She's the queen bee, he's the loner in school. Celeste Graham is on the top of the high school food chain. Students look up to her, but some just plainly feel intimidated. Being popular isn't exactly the greener side of the meadow, but just one night of getting locked into the school with a "nobody" made Celeste feel normal and genuinely happy. Both of them bring a hidden side to each other. They might disagree most of the time, but that was a little price to pay for falling for their polar opposite.

"One, call me Emilia. Nothing else. Two, my bed is my bed. Not yours. And, three, remember I am the one in control." His grip around me tightened and pulled me closer in one fluid movement, pressing my chest roughly against his. Who does he think he is? This is a waltz. Not a tango. "And what if I were to break those rules?" he asked, the corner of his lip twisting into a smirk. It was that very look that makes me want to shove him right up against a wall. Hard. "If you were smart," I said, fluttering my eyelashes innocently to look up at him, "you wouldn't test me." "I have to warn you, Miss Sinclair," he replied in a lower, huskier tone, "I can be stupid when it comes to a beautiful woman." Before my lips could even part to gasp, he leaned into me and pressed his cheek against mine, his hot breath brushing against my bare neck as he whispered, "And I'm definitely not scared of you." Just as he pulled away, I dug my fingernails into his shoulder and pulled him back into me. "Oh," I whispered back into his ear, "but you should be."

LINE OF THE CARTERS (BOOK 1): The great running back for San Diego Chargers, Damien Carter a.k.a Mr. Carter, is a sexy, handsome, and wealthy man that is big in all places; if you know what I mean. Getting into a woman's jeans, next to football, is his strong suit. He surely knows how to make a lady feel right sexually. However, one woman he encountered isn't willing to fall into his trap too quickly, and that's where a bet was taken place. Mr. Carter have 90 days to get into this lady's jeans or he will owe some money.

(18 & up) 12 short stories by @KanyeInterruptedMe and @MissusDiscoStick to get you into the festive season. Sit back, relax and fantasize...

(English - Unedited - In Revision) Lisa Stanely is a 22 year old full-figured college student who has been told that she wouldn't be good enough until she lost weight her entire life but that never stopped her from doing her own thang! Her mind set has always has been, "Fuck everyone! My body is sexy and there is someone who will want all of me!" Little does she know, the chant shes always said was about to come true in the form of David Albanese. Ever since setting his eyes on Lisa, he's been head over heels in love. She just doesn't know it yet.

Cindy works part time at a hotline. Her front name being Cinderella. When Cindy gets involved with a guy through a hotline, he starts to call her all the time. When she finds out she used to know this guy in High school.... Who used to make out with her sister... This unique re-telling of Cinderella suddenly just gets crazier.

Eighteen months ago Alicia was left standing at the alter. Lisa, Alicia's best friend has had enough of her moping and demands her to go out and get laid. So what do you think will happen? This story is recommended for Over 16s ONLY as there will be some sexual words and scenes that are not appropriate for younger readers!

“More! More!” I beg. My body craves this like a drug addict in withdrawal. I try to raise my bare hips to meet him, but the ropes dig into my flesh, rubbing and tearing the skin. “I don’t think you can handle more,” Thomas says. I whimper. “Please, Sir. Please give me more.” “That’s it, baby, beg for me,” he answers in a low voice, his fingers teasing my entrance and making me even wetter. “Please, Sir! Please give it to me!” “How much do you need it?” he draws this out. He slips one finger into me and I moan. He slowly moves it and I try to make him go faster, thrusting my hips to meet his hand. His other arm pins me down, restraining my movements. “How much do you need it?” he repeats, sliding a second finger in. “VERY!” I cry out. A third finger enters and he starts to move them faster. “Tell me how you want me to give it,” he growls. “GIVE IT TO ME ROUGH!” I holler.