"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.

"I want to defile you, destroy you, corrupt you in the most sinfully beautiful way. Break you until you're completely mine." "And then?" "Then I'll piece you back together, of course." He took another step in her direction, closing the distance between them. "Love can be holy." He said but the look in his eyes promised anything but. "It can be kind and gentle. It can be the flutter inside your chest when you feel someone touch you, the blush staining your cheeks when someone brushes his knuckles over them." To prove his point further, he took his knuckles and brushed them over her sharp jawline, all the way to her lightly dusted cheeks and sharp cheekbones. "However, love can also be vile. Dark and all-consuming. The kind of love that makes you want to fall to your knees and let it destroy you." He let his palm rest on her soft skin and felt the warmth she provided so carelessly travel to him. "That's all I can offer you." Nathaniel Russ is a man devoid of passion. Cold, stern, a tragedy with skin. A wreckage just seconds before the crash. A writer. He spends countless hours teaching philosophy at the local university, waiting for something to make the words crawl out of him with the same vigorous appetite they once did. And he finds it, at the most unexpected moment. Guinevere Westbrook is a woman haunted by the sins of her past. And she just happens to be the muse he had been waiting for, even though she refuses to accept it. So, he orchestrates a game meant for two. A game. That's all it was. Until it wasn't. Adult themes, proceed with caution. All images belong to their respective owners. Source: Pinterest.

[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]

[MATURE CONTENT] a rumpelstiltskin retelling #1 in the ODD FAIRYTALES series "Do you enjoy torturing me?" He asked on a groan as his hand travelled from my inner thigh to further upwards, finding me sans panties. "Only-" I breathed raggedly as he began tracing my slit with gentle strokes with not enough pressure to relieve me of the burn charging my core. "- when it suits." "Well," he said, finger dipping inside me, making me cling to his shoulders. "For your trouble, I'm about to fuck you so hard they'll write about us." "Like a fairytale?" I asked on a whisper, amusement dancing in my voice as I stared into his glowing golden eyes. "Be careful," he warned, ducking his head until I felt his hair brush my face. His lips were a millimetre from my ear, his breath making something thrum within me. "The ending will make you scream." I didn't doubt that.

[Edited Version ● Alternate Ending] "I will savour every part of your body; every nook and every cranny. I will make you feel like my last meal. And I will do it with your husband in the next room." Sofia's breathing became ragged. She held the stupid cookbook to her chest like a lifesaver, but she couldn't stop her heart bashing against it. And Vaughn? His hand had somehow slipped up the hem of her dress... (Cover by @ilovepizaaaa)

[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]

|18+| In one night of drunken, post-breakup passion, Lizbeth manages to hookup with the dominant boy of her dreams. It was supposed to be a one night stand, one and done, never seen again. Until she does see him again, as her professor. Private tutoring sessions never sounded so good. |This is a BDSM-themed, erotic romance. If that and other assorted pervy things do not appeal to you, take this as your warning.| × Highest Rankings × #1 in Breakup #1 in Kink #1 in Passion #1 in Professor #2 in teacherxstudent #32 in Romance

College senior Rosaline Valencia hasn't been one for dating or much of anything as far as boys are concerned. Saddled with an unfortunate reputation from an incident that took place in high school, Rosaline even at twenty-one is still a virgin. That is until the hot band Sixes and Sevens shows up early for their gig at her college's Finals Fest. Noah Silas, the man of her dreams since she first started noticing boys, is close enough to kiss and touch and do so much more... and he's willing for all of it. However, Rosaline will be the first person to admit she's out of her depth with him and is skeptical of why someone like him would want anything to do with her. Making matters worse are Noah's explicit lyrics, which hint at all the dark and kinky exploits of his past.

[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."

*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...