𝐁𝐨𝐨𝐤𝐜𝐥𝐮𝐛 𝐖𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐁𝐞𝐧𝐞𝐟𝐢𝐭𝐬 [18+]
  • Reads 1,125,036
  • Votes 14,819
  • Parts 21
  • Time 4h 50m
  • Reads 1,125,036
  • Votes 14,819
  • Parts 21
  • Time 4h 50m
Ongoing, First published Dec 17, 2020
Mature
Sara expected to meet fellow bibliophiles and hearty conversations about prose and reading when she joined a local book club.

Fueled with caffeine and passionate talks, she became well acquainted with her new bookoholic friends, especially with Dominic, the man with midnight raven hair and oceanic blue eyes whose charm worked on her like black magic. Though she only intended to bond platonically, she couldn't help but reciprocate his flirtatious glances and sexual innuendos when she thought no one noticed.

As she found herself stuck between her poor attempt at surviving her failing relationship and her profound desire for her hot, persuasive writer, she couldn't say no when he made a generous offer she's more than willing to compromise: private writing sessions at his place.




⚠ content/trigger warning: contains mature content, sexual assault, self-harm, mentions of ED, cursing, alcohol/drugs use, emotional abuse & cheating
All Rights Reserved
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He swiped my sweat-soaked hair off my neck, resting his lips against my ear. His fiery breaths blew across my earlobe. My body shuddered once again, craving more of him. "You're not the first woman to think she could seduce me into bed because of who I am, what I write. And you won't be the last." He gave a small chuckle, pulling down my dress, so it covered me. "But," he said in a low growl, "so far...... you're my favorite." Breaths poured from my lips at those words. My heart fluttered inside my pounding chest. His favorite, my brain stuck to his words like glue. Clinging to the small hope we'd continue this somewhere else, more than once. We stayed in that position for a moment before his body heat disappeared from my back. He lit a cigarette in front of me, the flash of the lighter illuminating his flushed, sweat-soaked face. I leaned against the brick wall, finding comfort in the coolness against my heated skin. His eyes met mine again. I didn't think I could move from the spot, but he forced me to when he held up a red, lacy thong in between his fingers. My red lacy thong. Fucking panty thief! ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Their worlds collided in a heated, passion-filled hook-up behind a bar, bringing their broken pieces together. And now? Mercy finds herself as C.J. Cole's intern. The very Mr. Cole who wrote the most romantic, erotic books she had ever laid eyes on. How could she manage to keep her panties on around him? Or control herself? Hint: she won't. Mature warning.