I was an orphan. He was a billionaire. He adopted me to hide his money, and for six years, he didn't even know my name. But when I turned eighteen, the cold, apathetic monster finally looked at me. And he decided he wanted to play with his investment. I thought I could survive him. I thought I could make him love me. But in Julian Thorne's world, you don't get loved. You get owned. Dark. Taboo. Unhinged. Enter at your own risk.

𝐈𝐧 𝐰𝐡𝐢𝐜𝐡 𝐦𝐢𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐲 𝐨𝐟𝐟𝐢𝐜𝐞𝐫 𝐄𝐥𝐥𝐢𝐨𝐭 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐨𝐧, 𝐰𝐢𝐬𝐡𝐞𝐬 𝐭𝐨 𝐡𝐨𝐥𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐬𝐦𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐭𝐨𝐰𝐧 𝐬𝐞𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐝 𝐠𝐫𝐚𝐝𝐞 𝐭𝐞𝐚𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐫, 𝐆𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐞 𝐁𝐚𝐛𝐚𝐲𝐚𝐫𝐨. Rankings: #1 in teacher #1 in bwwm #1 in wmbw #1 in military #1 in french #1 in psychological #2 in nigerian #5 in obsession #7 in possessive #9 in dark romance

Two college friends explore their intrinsic darkness fueled with BDSM and blazing romance. She started crying in pain while all her muffled screams made him chuckle, "Don't cry slut, we have just begun, daddy asked you to stay away from him and now you will get punished."

Why choose, when both could be the love of your life? Imagine every well loved love triangle From the Edward Cullens and Jacob's, down to the Salvatore's; where it's almost too agonizing picking who you should root for in the end. This book shows a love triangle that develops into so much more. Growth. Loss. An unexpected relationship. With yearning so deep, you can feel it through the pages. 𝐌𝐱𝐅𝐱𝐌

"Cain, if you can't leave the streets for me and our baby, then me and you, we're done." I pointed between the two of us as tears streamed down my face and he bit his lip, looking down at the floor before he looked back up into my eyes. "Aight." "Shit over then, babygirl."

This isn't a short story ... The full book of BABY is now available through the link in my bio 🤍 Rose has spent her life in the shadows quiet, reserved, and invisible. But when Luciano Gomez steps into her world, she learns what it means to be seen. Luciano doesn't ask. He takes. He calls her BABY in a voice that drips with possession, staking his claim with every touch, every whispered demand. Wealthy, ruthless, and dangerously obsessed, he craves Rose in a way that borders on madness. She's his to protect. His to spoil. His to break. She should run. She knows it. But when a man like Luciano decides you belong to him... There's nowhere left to hide.

"A King is not complete without his Queen." This is a story. A story that is far too unreal for anyone believe. A story that everyone should believe in. A story about love and death. A story so powerful that even the greatest and scariest leaders will kneel for it. A story about a woman and a man. A story of how a tiny mere human girl who made the werewolf King kneel in front of her because she shed a tear. This is not the fairytale that you thought you knew COMPLETED

Novella has been mine from the moment I laid my eyes on her. I always kept watch, biding my time, waiting for the right moment to claim her. Finding her unconscious, covered in blood on the bathroom floor of her home is where I draw the line though. Watching is over. It's time to claim her. And while I claim her, I'll hunt down the man who touched her and make him pay. He'll be the first example of what happens to anyone who touches my woman.

"What are you?" the older man questioned, his voice a chilling blend of authority and amusement, like a knife wrapped in silk. "Your wife," I replied softly, my tone laced with the submission he seemed to crave. "No," he murmured, his lips brushing mine, the words a dark caress that sent shivers through me. "You are my doll, milaya." He towered over me, his intimidating presence both suffocating and intoxicating. The nickname, spoken in that deep, accented voice, wrapped around me like a chain I couldn't help but love. "You are the only woman who is allowed to warm my bed at night," he said, his voice a dark melody, smooth but unnerving. "The only woman who's allowed to step into my office and bend over my desk, waiting for me to come home so I can fuck you." A cold, low chuckle rumbled from his chest, the sound as sinister as it was intoxicating, sending shivers down my spine. ♡ Dimitri Mikhailov, the russian mobster. His presence filled the room like a storm. He didn't have to move or speak to dominate the room. Broad-shouldered and imposing, his scarred face told a thousand stories that he'd never waste words on. He was my husband and I was his precious doll.