"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.

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.

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.

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?

"Who do you belong to?" Ezmeralda demanded, her tone sharp, the question more than just a claim-it was a command. "You-" Olivia groaned, struggling to finish the sentence as her body shook violently. "I belong to El Jefa," she sputtered out desperately, her pride dissolving in the heat of the moment. She no longer cared about holding onto any sense of self; the pleasure was too overwhelming, too good to resist. "Cum, pretty girl," Ezmeralda allowed with a satisfied smile, granting Olivia the release she so desperately craved. Olivia's birthday night takes an unexpected turn when she and her best friend, Phoebe, venture out in search of an authentic Cuban experience. Tired of the typical tourist spots, Olivia persuades a reluctant Phoebe to explore a local restaurant she remembered seeing from their taxi ride. Upon stumbling on something Olivia shouldn't have seen, the girls are thrust into a nightmare, held captive by Ezmeralda, who reveals her affiliation with the Cuban cartel. She gives them a chilling ultimatum: marry into the cartel or face certain death. Olivia, desperate to protect Phoebe, tries to negotiate, offering herself in exchange for her friend's freedom. However, Ezmeralda dismisses the compromise, making it clear that in the cartel, there are no negotiations - only orders and consequences. WARNING: MAJOR TRIGGER WARNING: DEATH OF A CHILD SMUT VIOLENCE USE OF SUBSTANCES this is a dark romance so please do not expect it to all sunshine and rainbows. all sexual scenes are consensual and legal. 🏆 #1 Cuba 🏆 #6 gxg

Just as Annabeth's hands reached to grab the back of her jacket, Sonya pivoted smoothly, one arm coiling around Annabeth's waist like a whip. There was a sharp gasp-Annabeth's-and then her spine slammed against the edge of the bar, the breath knocked clean from her chest. Sonya's forearm pressed hard across her collarbone, pinning her in place with infuriating ease. "If you wanted my attention, sugar, all you had to do was ask," Sonya murmured, her voice sultry and rough, lips inches from Annabeth's. "Get off me," Annabeth snarled, squirming beneath her hold. Sonya arched a brow, leaning in even closer until her body molded against the younger woman's-thigh to thigh, hip to hip. "You're feistier than the girls next door," she whispered against the shell of Annabeth's ear, her breath hot. "Careful now, Anna. I've always had a thing for resistance." Annabeth jerked against her, face twisting in rage. "Let. Me. Go. You stink of whiskey and whores," she spat, kicking against Sonya's shin. Sonya didn't flinch. "Say please," she drawled, her voice silk and steel, utterly unbothered. "Manners go a long way in this town." "Never," Annabeth hissed.

Lilith Hawthorne is a 20 year old psychology student with a complicated heart and more issues than she likes to admit. She feels too much, thinks too hard, and often drowns in the weight of her own empathy. She's curious, emotionally intense, and carries unresolved wounds especially the kind only a mother can leave behind. Valentina Salvatore is a 30 year old CEO. She works hard to build her career and keep things running smoothly. At the same time, she loves deeply but carefully, making sure her feelings go to the right person. She has learned to protect her heart and waits for someone who matches the way she feels. Where Lilith is full of feelings and unpredictability, Valentina has her life sorted out. They come from different worlds and have different ways of living, but what if that's exactly why they fit?

It's Collette's first day of senior year and she already can't wait for it to be over. She's a good student with an even bigger reputation to her teachers, all but one. Valentina Fairbourne is new to teaching in this high school. Bigger pay, smaller classes. What could go wrong? Virtually nothing. But what about one student? Can things remain professional between the two? Strictly teacher and student? [THERE ARE ERRORS in this book! So many errors & they will get fixed soon enough. I just write for fun & none of it is professional. Please beware of these before you read further!]

Hate, lust, and two very large egos create nothing but issues, especially for these two women who are forced to work together. With their two completely different backgrounds, they're both so obviously a liability to each other... Yet somehow that only draws them closer together.

But Sutton's patience ran thin. With a sharp motion, she lowered herself, pressing her forearm against Maeve's shoulders to pin her firmly in place against the desk. "Move one more fucking time," she hissed, her breath hot against Maeve's ear, "and I'll keep you here all day, begging me to touch you." Grabbing Maeve's jaw with her other hand, Sutton turned her head sharply, forcing Maeve to meet her piercing gaze. "Is that clear? Or do I need to dumb it down for you?" she taunted, her fingers digging into Maeve's flushed cheeks, her grip unrelenting. Maeve's wide eyes darted nervously, her lips parting as if to respond, but no words came out. She nodded fervently instead, the weight of the moment stealing any semblance of speech. "Smart girl," Sutton murmured approvingly, her voice a low purr as she released Maeve's jaw. She straightened, smoothing her shirt with an air of composure as her eyes roved over Maeve's now-still form. BOTH CHARACTERS ARE ADULTS AND FULLY CONSENTING This is kinky- Content warning: Spanking, degradation, praise, hair pulling, age gap, you get the shtick Written by Tzipora Rosen Edited by Leah Catherine Benton 🏆 #1 mascxfem