"Explosions are my specialty, I can and will be your doom, Now get down on your knees, baby, I'll make your world go boom." • • • Unconventional poems of a conformed man. I voice all my inner chaotic turmoils in rhyming words so they sound less pathetic. And also, I spice it up with dirty poetry, in good ol' me style, so I don't ruin the esthetics.

"Guns and sex... that's what you are." • • • Rya Wilkins is a top trained agent, working under the orders of the president of USA. Her job involves brutal interrogations, dangerous undercover CIA work, and killing people who pose a threat to their nation. - And a threat like that just so happens to come in the form of a lethal and dangerously handsome Italian agent, who managed to break into the CIA and steal confidential information. It is now Rya's job to retrieve that information and stop the goddamn mischievous, sexy, son of a-I'm-going-to-make-your-body-explode-in-more-ways-than-one agent and bring him into custody. But there's a thin line between hatred and love - and that line turns out to be Rya's thong.

"I could nibble at your nose... or at your ear... or at your lips... or..." • • • It's December, and Jack Frost has just come to town. Literally. Summer is one of those people who hates winter. Not just because she was named after the opposite season, but because she hated the cold with a burning passion. But when a stunning man with silver hair, frosty blue eyes and a jovial charm walks into her coffee shop, ordering an iced caramel macchiato with extra ice, she suddenly finds it hard to hate the cold. Especially when (despite his constant cold hands) he always seems to burn her with his touch. Something seems off about him, and Summer is not mistaken. Jack Frost is known for bringing on the cold, but Summer is about to learn that he sure as hell knows how to turn on the heat, too.

"Never underestimate the power of a decent vocabulary." • • • Imagine if you could hear everything your neighbor did on the other side of the wall. Cook - clean - masturbate? Detective Russell Crane quickly deducts that the wall in his new apartment is surprisingly thin. And that his female neighbor has a fondness of vibrators. How much would you listen to? And more importantly; How would you react if you heard your neighbor moan your name after having just met her once?

[Edited Version] "We only read erotica," Fiona said with a straight face. "Come again?" I asked, clutching my copy of Jane Eyre to my chest. I suddenly felt like a girl who'd come to a fancy-dress party dressed as herself. "Oh, come on, Janelle," Fiona smiled, pulling my hand and leading me into the room. The light in the library was dimmed to a dull glow, and then I heard a man's voice reading: "I entered her from behind, squeezing the taut skin of her buttocks and driving myself even deeper, until..." Somewhere in the dark, I heard moans of pleasure and the unmistakable yowl of a climax... [Cover by @headfullofstars]

*This is a FREE book with PAID exclusive chapters* [The Dad I'd Like to F*ck] "You should be careful," Devin said calmly, bending over to scoop Rory into his arms. "This bathtub can get incredibly slippery." "So I noticed," she said dryly. Mortified, she noticed how erect her nipples were. They stabbed the air like tiny knives of arousal and she was positive that Devin had noticed. "I think I can walk now," she said quickly. To her relief, he set her on the ground and reached for her towel. "This is the second time I'm rescuing you," he said, in that quiet way Rory was beginning to recognise as his annoyed tone. "Let's not make it a habit." Rory tightened the towel around herself, wincing from the motion. "I slipped in the tub. Hardly a rescue." A dirty look crossed his face. "I haven't had sex in two years, Rory. Consider yourself rescued..." He turned to leave "...from me." She was speechless. For starters, this had been the longest conversation she'd ever had with Devin Shaw and, secondly, she was positive that he wasn't as crazy as he let everyone believe he was...

"You want me to be a genius or do you want me to fuck you?" • • • The Alexandrettia is the finest school in the state, known for producing the smartest, and most talented kids in America. 21 year old keen painter Mia Hanson managed to get a spot. She worked her whole life to get inside, to see the hallowed halls her biggest idols once walked through. But those very same halls gets vandalized one wild night, and the person responsible gets sentenced to do community service, working as a janitor to clean up his mess. With his brooding eyes, filthy mouth and body covered up in ink, Eli the type of guy you run away from; The type who only lives for the trouble; The type you just know packs a brain the size of a peanut. But when one of Fermat's biggest unsolved mathematical problems gets solved by an unknown source, rumors start as to who and where this genius might be... Well: Three guesses who?

[Edited Version] “You ever think about letting your hair loose?” Ashton asked, his breath kissing Amor’s neck as they waltzed. “My hair’s fine,” Amor snapped in annoyance. Ashton chuckled. “That’s not what I meant.” His hands slowly hiked up the hem of her dress and her breath caught. “What are you doing?” She uneasily glanced around at the dancing couples. “Giving a new meaning to dirty dancing,” he replied quietly. And he entered her. [Cover by @zarawhite]

[This is a spin-off of The DILF but can be read as a stand-alone] [The story you are about to read is intended for readers age 18+ due to its sexual content and language. It may not be appropriate for all audiences. Please read at your own discretion.] There was nothing Ophelia wanted better than to gouge Nikolai's long-lashed, consuming blue eyes out with a butter knife and mail them to the rest of the Alvonich family. Too bad they were in a very public, very esteemed place - Mikhail's wedding. "You don't think I'll press the button?" Nikolai's breath was warm and teasing in her ear. Ophelia had no idea what possessed her to take up his challenge of a vibrating thong, except that it was too late to back out now. She turned to glance at the infuriating man beside her. "Honestly, I don't care. It won't affect me." "Sweet Ophelia," he whispered, surprising her by flicking his tongue into her ear. Jumping, she glared at him, ignoring the important guests at her table, her father included. Before she could curse at Nikolai, he pressed the button, the swearwords turning to soft moans under her breath. Gripping the edge of the table, Ophelia felt the attack on her cl!t like a burn to her skin. Her father shot her a concerned look from across the table and Nikolai's voice was again in her ear. "Before the end of the night, Ophelia, we will f**k," he promised, releasing his finger from the remote control. "Only this time, it will be my name you scream."

"Y-you," she stuttered, staring at the handsome man sitting on the sleek black throne, "you're..." He rolled his eyes, waving his hand impatiently and said, "Hades. Come on, say it with me. Ha-des." "Hades," Ariel breathed out, still not believing the sight before her. Every picture she had seen of the gods had not depicted Hades' beauty. The god sitting before her was not a crusty old man with a white beard; no, he was a Calvin Klein model. "Yes," Hades clasped his hands together and grimaced, "the God of Death and riches; that's me." Ariel nodded, still refusing to believe but knowing she had to and Hades' grimace turned even bitter, "And you, darling, will be staying with me for quite some time." ~*~ Cover: _nymphomaniac Published: 8/6/14