| 18+ | Damian looked so different with his shirt off and a crop in his hand. He felt more real: no longer wearing the mask of the good doctor, he was the Exorcist, the master over my wildest fears, the stones on the shore over which my ocean of madness could crash without fear. He trailed the crop over my throat, down my chest. "Your demons have not been playing nicely," he said, a warning in his tone. Goosebumps prickled up my arms as the smooth leather teased over my navel. "No, sir. They haven't. They don't much like you." He grinned, and it was such a wicked sight that my stomach clenched up with desire. I desperately wanted to feel those teeth, the softness of those lips. Patience was nearly impossible. "I must admit I don't much like them either," he growled. "Turn around. Hands on the wall. Spread your legs." I obeyed, my breath catching in my throat. I felt him lean close, his breath hot on my neck as he left kisses along my hairline. "But they don't own your body, do they, darling? Who owns this body?" "I do, sir." My breathing shuddered. The crop tapped between my thighs. "That's right. And who have you chosen to give your body to?" "To you, sir." × × × 18 year old Samara Garfield is on the run - from her past, from her desires, from the wicked voices in her head. Everything seems to be catching up with her when she meets Damian Hearst, a doctor with perverted desires of his own. With a legion of demonic beings eager to overtake her, the good doctor may indeed be the only one who can save her. But as their dark pasts become ever more entangled and hope for salvation begins to fade, can love grow in the face of death? × Highest Rankings × #1 in Steampunk #1 in Kinky #40 in Horror

She's a wild, free spirit who sees the good in everyone, and he's the hardened, bad-tempered loner who wants nothing to do with her-yet no matter how hard he tries to push her away, she's the one temptation he can't escape. *** He's never met someone with such a bubbly personality. Not to mention the wildness and odd phrases she says every five minutes. He hates it. He hates how he can't stay away from it. He hates what she does to him; it's not like him to chase after some girl. She gets under his skin like no other. She's never met someone with such a bad attitude. He's ill-mannered and menacing. The glare never seems to leave his face. Considering it all, she can't help but feel the attraction toward him. Dangerous attraction toward a seemingly dangerous man. Maybe it's the tattoos on his arm that gets her attention. Or maybe it's because she can tell there's hope for good under his rough exterior. And she's about to find it, whether he likes it or not. It's no secret that the two of them are complete and total opposites. *** "You like being called Sugar, don't you?" I tease, placing my toothbrush back after finishing. He does the same and gives me a side-eyed scowl. He grips my chin harshly and kisses me. My body temperature raises a good ten degrees and my right leg goes all wiggly. He pulls away. "You like it when I kiss you, don't you?" He teases the same way I did to him and I'm left blubbering. "I think both of our questions are rhetorical," I lower my voice up at him. His lip curls up into a smirk. *** #1 in Young Adult #9 in Badboy #1 in Cold #3 in Goodgirl #1 in Sweetheart #14 in Love *** *Warning* This story contains mature themes (language, scenes