The woman's hand, decorated with rings, was squeezing the sides of her throat; the gun stuffed in the blondes mouth. Breathy whimpers slipping past her lips, and mascara dripping down her puffy, red cheeks. Renata tittered, her haughty tugging the corner of her plump lips, their eyes staying on each other. Her scent only made the dangerous woman more attracted to this beauty; her sweet and soft perfume lingered around her. The hand on the blondes throat was removed, and instead, caressing her soft, wavy blonde, putting it against her nose and sniffing. Renata's eyes closed in delight, the thick smell of pomegranate and roses gave her a soft tingle. Magnolia sobbed harder, trying to wiggle her way out of the situation. She whined once her hands were clasped together and held above her head. "Shh, my sweet flower, we don't want to attract attention now, do we?" The woman spoke finally, her lips brushing against Magnolia's ear. Immediately, Renata moved the gun from her mouth and wiped it on her jacket, stuffing it back in her waistband. "Relax, I'm not going to hurt you," she whispered, placing a lingering kiss on her neck. "though I can bite sometimes, and you my flower, are very tempting." 𑁍 Magnolia Tress - the blonde works at the most popular strip club in New York; a nervous, traumatised young woman on the run from her past which continues to haunt her 6 years later. As much as she tries to forget her roots and overcome the trauma, she's suddenly faced to it when the Big Boss pays a visit to America. Renata Abbott - highly feared woman for good reasons. Powerful, dangerous woman who would slay someone without a word to spare. She figured two things would happen when returning to New York: checking on legal businesses and checking on her illegal ones. What she did not expect was to discover a rat within her Mafia, and to become obsessed over a young, short blonde. HIGHEST RANKINGS #1 - french 4/3/2026 #7 - interracial 10/2/2025 #39 - lesbian 11/2/2

"Spread your legs for me." I climbed onto the mattress, heart pounding. I lay back and slowly opened my thighs, shutting my eyes tight because I knew how wet I was. The cool air hit my soaked panties, and I felt even more exposed. Andrea leaned down, hovering over me. Her lips pressed a small, almost gentle kiss to my neck. Then she whispered against my ear, breath warm, "I don't know what the fuck came over you tonight, Lalia, but don't ever do it again. Because there are repercussions, sweetheart." Her hands ran slowly down my thighs, fingertips tracing the sensitive skin. "These pretty thighs," she murmured. "Open your eyes, baby," she whispered. I opened my eyes, breathing hard. "Look at them. Look at what's between them. Look at your whole body. Do you see it?" I nodded. "They're mine," she said, voice low and possessive. "Every single limb. Every nerve. Every inch of your body is mine, Lalia. I don't want you to ever think they are not." ..... Lalia Bishop is tired of the pills, the white walls, and the careful way people talk to her like she's glass about to break. Diagnosed with borderline personality disorder after a suicide attempt, she's been in and out of psychiatric hospitals for years, cycling through therapists who either pity her, fear her, or grow frustrated with her unpredictability. None of them lasted until Dr. Andrea Cross.

Eight years ago, Renata Vitali disappeared without warning. No explanation, and certainly no goodbye. Amara said goodbye to her at boarding school like everything was fine and by the time she got home for winter break, Renata was just... gone. Her number? Dead. Her socials? Deleted. Like she'd never existed. Amara Morrison learned quickly not to get attached to anything that could leave. In turn, she built something else instead. Control, structure, and a career that leaves no room for loose ends. Now, she's one of the youngest rising attorneys at LA's most ruthless firm. And Renata? Renata operates in a different world entirely. The kind where power is quiet, influence is inherited, and nothing is ever as simple as it looks. They haven't spoken since they were seventeen. Until Renata walks into a Century City conference room, drops a multi-million dollar case on the table, and asks for Amara by name. Only Amara.

Dr. Cameron O'Clare believed being the smartest girl in the room meant she was in control of her research and her life. But when Dr. Mavis Leroy, a brilliant and fiercely private expert in environmental psychology, backed her breakthrough project, everything shifted. Leroy did not just fund the work. She embedded herself into Cameron's world. The choices were no longer hers. She became the variable Cameron had not accounted for. The catalyst. Power. Intimacy. Surrender. Suddenly, Cameron was not sure what she wanted or who held the reins. Like any true catalyst, Leroy did not change herself. She changed everything around her.

Grief is a funny thing. It can make you desperate, reckless - but for Ravina, it made her hungry. Hungry for an escape, for something different. She tried to find it in drugs, in alcohol, in other people's beds - desperate to sneak herself into someone else's version of normal. Ameira wasn't normal. She was trouble. And to Ravina, she was exactly what she needed: a contract promising wealth, power, and freedom...to any girl brave enough to step inside. But in Ameira's world, nothing comes free - and some prices are higher than they ever imagined. Then there's Noura-Ameira's partner in crime, and the kind of gang leader people whisper about. Dangerous, magnetic, loyal to no one except her own... until Ravina - so it seems. Ravina has a choice: return to the life that's nearly destroying her, or enter a world of power, pleasure, and danger she barely understands. What she doesn't know is that once she chooses them - Ameira and Noura 𝐛𝐨𝐭𝐡- there's no going back.

Rowan fights in illegal boxing rings just to survive, scraping by under the thumb of a brutal ring leader. When Valene Harth, a ruthless gang leader, notices her, everything changes.

Caterina gave a small, amused hum, flipping a page of her magazine as though unfazed. "You'd be hotter if you weren't so mean." "And you'd be hotter if you cut the fucking attitude," Celine shot back, her voice dropping as she leaned closer, her eyes narrowing dangerously. "Before I fuck it out of you." When Celine crosses paths with Caterina, the daughter of a powerful mafia boss, she expects a quick and simple plan to settle an old score. What she doesn't anticipate is Caterina's audacious counteroffer: a marriage of convenience that will grant Celine access she can not decline. Their uneasy alliance is fraught with tension-both the fiery, physical kind and the sharp clash of wills that comes from two women with their own dark pasts and hidden agendas. As they step into a world of wealth, deception, and ruthless ambition, their plan teeters on the edge of chaos, with one question looming large: Can they trust each other long enough to survive? Will they pull off the ultimate betrayal-or will their fragile bond bring everything crashing down?

ꜱᴏᴘʜɪᴇ ɢᴀꜱᴘᴇᴅ ᴡʜᴇɴ ᴀᴛᴀʀᴀ'ꜱ ꜰɪɴɢᴇʀ ʜᴏᴏᴋᴇᴅ ᴀʀᴏᴜɴᴅ ᴛʜᴇ ꜱᴄᴀʀꜰ, ᴘᴜʟʟɪɴɢ ʜᴇʀ ꜰᴏʀᴡᴀʀᴅ ʟɪᴋᴇ ᴛᴜɢɢɪɴɢ ᴏɴ ᴀ ʟᴇᴀꜱʜ. "ꜰɪʀꜱᴛ ʀᴜʟᴇ," ᴀᴛᴀʀᴀ ᴍᴜʀᴍᴜʀᴇᴅ, ʜᴇʀ ʟɪᴘꜱ ꜱᴏ ᴄʟᴏꜱᴇ ꜱᴏᴘʜɪᴇ ꜰᴇʟᴛ ᴛʜᴇ ꜰᴀɪɴᴛ ʙʀᴜꜱʜ ᴏꜰ ʜᴇʀ ʙʀᴇᴀᴛʜ, ᴇʏᴇꜱ ʟᴏᴄᴋɪɴɢ ʜᴇʀꜱ ɪɴ ᴘʟᴀᴄᴇ. "ʏᴏᴜ ʟᴏᴏᴋ ᴀᴛ ᴍᴇ ᴡʜᴇɴ ɪ ꜱᴘᴇᴀᴋ." ꜱᴏᴘʜɪᴇ'ꜱ ʜᴇᴀʀᴛ ʀᴀᴍᴍᴇᴅ ᴀɢᴀɪɴꜱᴛ ʜᴇʀ ʀɪʙꜱ. "ʏ-ʏᴇꜱ, ᴍᴀ'ᴀᴍ," ꜱʜᴇ ꜱᴛᴀᴍᴍᴇʀᴇᴅ. ᴀ ʜᴜᴍ ᴠɪʙʀᴀᴛᴇᴅ ꜰʀᴏᴍ ᴀᴛᴀʀᴀ'ꜱ ᴛʜʀᴏᴀᴛ, ʟᴏᴡ ᴀɴᴅ ᴘʟᴇᴀꜱᴇᴅ. ꜱʜᴇ ɴᴀʀʀᴏᴡᴇᴅ ʜᴇʀ ᴇʏᴇꜱ ꜱʟɪɢʜᴛʟʏ, ꜱᴛᴜᴅʏɪɴɢ ᴛʜᴇ ɢɪʀʟ ᴄᴀᴜɢʜᴛ ɪɴ ʜᴇʀ ɢʀᴀꜱᴘ. ᴛʜᴇʀᴇ ᴡᴀꜱ ꜱᴏᴍᴇᴛʜɪɴɢ... ꜱʜᴇ ɪɴʜᴀʟᴇᴅ, ꜱᴍᴏᴋᴇ ꜱᴘɪʟʟɪɴɢ ꜰʀᴏᴍ ʜᴇʀ ʟɪᴘꜱ ɪɴ ᴀ ʀɪʙʙᴏɴ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ʙʀᴜꜱʜᴇᴅ ᴀɢᴀɪɴꜱᴛ ꜱᴏᴘʜɪᴇ'ꜱ ᴄʜᴇᴇᴋ. ꜱᴏᴍᴇᴛʜɪɴɢ ᴀʙᴏᴜᴛ ʜᴇʀ ꜱᴍᴇʟʟᴇᴅ ꜰᴀᴍɪʟɪᴀʀ. ʜᴇʀ ꜰɪɴɢᴇʀꜱ ᴛɪɢʜᴛᴇɴᴇᴅ ʙʀɪᴇꜰʟʏ ᴏɴ ᴛʜᴇ ꜱᴄᴀʀꜰ ᴀꜱ ʜᴇʀ ʙʀᴏᴡꜱ ᴅʀᴇᴡ ᴛᴏɢᴇᴛʜᴇʀ. "ᴅᴏ ɪ ᴋɴᴏᴡ ʏᴏᴜ ꜰʀᴏᴍ ꜱᴏᴍᴇᴡʜᴇʀᴇ?" ᴀᴛᴀʀᴀ ᴀꜱᴋᴇᴅ, ʜᴇʀ ᴠᴏɪᴄᴇ ᴛɪʟᴛɪɴɢ, ᴄᴀᴜɢʜᴛ ʙᴇᴛᴡᴇᴇɴ ᴄᴜʀɪᴏꜱɪᴛʏ ᴀɴᴅ ᴄᴇʀᴛᴀɪɴᴛʏ. ɪᴄᴇ ꜰʟᴏᴏᴅᴇᴅ ꜱᴏᴘʜɪᴇ'ꜱ ᴠᴇɪɴꜱ. ɪ'ᴍ ᴅᴇᴀᴅ. ꜰᴜᴄᴋ.

"𝐇𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐬 𝐨𝐧 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐥𝐚𝐩," 𝐑𝐨𝐰𝐞𝐧𝐚 𝐦𝐮𝐫𝐦𝐮𝐫𝐞𝐝. "𝐋𝐢𝐟𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐬𝐤𝐢𝐫𝐭," 𝐬𝐡𝐞 𝐛𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐝. 𝐖𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐮𝐧𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐲 𝐟𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐫𝐬, 𝐓𝐚𝐦𝐳𝐢𝐧 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐝 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐡𝐞𝐦 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐝𝐫𝐞𝐰 𝐢𝐭 𝐮𝐩𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐝, 𝐬𝐥𝐨𝐰 𝐞𝐧𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐦𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐞𝐭𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧. 𝐑𝐨𝐰𝐞𝐧𝐚 𝐡𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐞𝐝 𝐪𝐮𝐢𝐞𝐭𝐥𝐲, 𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐯𝐚𝐥 𝐭𝐡𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐝. "𝐆𝐨𝐨𝐝," 𝐬𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐚𝐢𝐝. "𝐍𝐨𝐰, 𝐩𝐚𝐬𝐬 𝐢𝐭 𝐭𝐨 𝐦𝐞." 𝐒𝐡𝐞 𝐠𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐝 𝐝𝐨𝐰𝐧 𝐝𝐞𝐬𝐩𝐢𝐭𝐞 𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐞𝐥𝐟, 𝐟𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐭𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐚𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐥𝐚𝐜𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐩𝐚𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐞𝐬. 𝐓𝐚𝐦𝐳𝐢𝐧 𝐡𝐞𝐬𝐢𝐭𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐝, 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐝 𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐝, 𝐡𝐨𝐨𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐢𝐭 𝐥𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐥𝐲 𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐭𝐰𝐨 𝐟𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐑𝐨𝐰𝐞𝐧𝐚 𝐡𝐞𝐥𝐝 𝐰𝐚𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐡𝐚𝐝𝐨𝐰𝐞𝐝 𝐬𝐩𝐚𝐜𝐞 𝐛𝐞𝐭𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐦. 𝐑𝐨𝐰𝐞𝐧𝐚'𝐬 𝐬𝐦𝐢𝐥𝐞 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐬𝐥𝐨𝐰, 𝐮𝐧𝐦𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐤𝐚𝐛𝐥𝐲 𝐩𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐞𝐝. "𝐆𝐨𝐨𝐝 𝐠𝐢𝐫𝐥," 𝐬𝐡𝐞 𝐦𝐮𝐫𝐦𝐮𝐫𝐞𝐝.

"I do have something in mind, actually." The words were certain and very clear. Celine leaned back against the couch, her smirk softening into something darker, quieter. "Well then," She said, voice smooth enough to make my spine tingle, "Come show me." My breath caught before I could even think. The room seemed to hum around us-the low buzz of the liquor, the faint rustle of the robe against my skin, her eyes following me as she'd already decided what was going to happen next. Something in my chest fluttered-or maybe it flipped. The words weren't loud, but they pulled at me anyway like a command wrapped in velvet. I hesitated, barely. Then the hesitation melted away, the same way the liquor did earlier. My body moved before my mind caught up, slow and deliberate 𝘰𝘯 𝘮𝘺 𝘬𝘯𝘦𝘦𝘴, drawn to her like gravity wasn't a choice. 𖤓𖤓𖤓𖤓𖤓𖤓𖤓𖤓𖤓𖤓𖤓𖤓 Monét was never one to follow rules, that word seemed unknown to her knowledge. Monét was a troublemaker, it ran in her blood-well half of her blood. Her father being the chief of the police, the rule follower, yet he made an exception for his daughter always running to her rescue when needed. Monét was also the type to get what she wants, so when she sees this older lawyer-you can guess what she wants. And she intends to get it, stopping at nothing. She wouldn't let anything stop her, not age, not her issues, not her father, not a judge. Nothing would stop her from getting what she wanted.