"You were ours from the second we saw you," he stated as if I didn't have a choice in it, and the truth was, I didn't need to because he was right. I was theirs, but what they didn't know was that they were mine, too. *** One invitation to an open house. One moment. One chance. And everything changes. When Emma receives an invite to the most exclusive BDSM club in the city, she knows she needs to go. At Desire's Den, she'll experience pain and pleasure, bondage, domination, and submission - all intertwined. For the first time in her life, she dares herself to go after what she wants. She'd always been too afraid. Now she is ready. Now she just has to secure a dominant. But just as everything she ever desired is in her grasp, she finds something she never expected: three possessive masters, all ready to claim her. Callan, the owner of Desire's Den, could make even the most innocent woman hungry with lust. His voice is soft as silk, and as wicked as the dirtiest fantasy you've ever had. Mateo, the sweet-tongued professor, is every woman's dream: a gentleman in public, and filthy in private. Gideon, the trio's resident bad boy, is owner of one of the most popular nightclubs in the city. Behind his calm and stone façade is a violent storm ready to conquer the object of his obsession. And she just might be the one they've been waiting for.

"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.

[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."

[Edited] "You had to be extremely low on cash to wank into a cup for it," Dani sneered, feeling like a vindictive bully in a playground. But Carlo deserved it. She felt the first sharp stab of fear that went through her heart when Carlo looked at her with thunder in his eyes. "What are you going to do now? Kill me?" she continued. Fingering the 9mm in her back pocket, she remembered that she'd never even shot the damn thing, despite her brothers' pleas to teach her. Carlo's shadow blanketed her. "Kill you?" His brow furrowed. "Do you really think that lowly of me, cara? I'm wounded." "Then what the hell do you want?" His face flashed with a look she barely recognised - pure arousal. Even when he reached out and pulled her to him, she could feel it. "I realised that the mother of my child is more of a spitfire than I thought." His lips brushed her earlobe. "Call me a pyromaniac." *cover by @bullethood*

[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]

"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?

"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.