Twisted
- Reads 620
- Votes 59
- Parts 15
MatureOngoing54m
Last published Sun, Jun 21, 2026
He leaned in, close enough that his scent wrapped around me like smoke - warm, sharp, and intoxicating. It wasn't perfume. It wasn't cologne. It was him, raw and unnervingly male, a spice that clung to the back of my throat and made my lungs forget how to work.
His voice was low, steady, the kind that slipped under my skin and left me trembling.
"You're beautiful," he said, his words laced with quiet certainty. "Who made you believe otherwise?"
All Rights Reserved
Join the largest storytelling communityGet personalized story recommendations, save your favourites to your library, and comment and vote to grow your community.
You may also like
Damien's Obsession
Damien's head tilts slightly, then he turns toward me - slowly, purposefully, like a predator pivoting to a new prey. My pulse hammers against my throat. That grin of his blooms across his face, slow and wolfish. It looks wrong on him - or maybe it's just too right. "If you believe, even for a second, that your insult from earlier will go unanswered..." his voice drops to a near purr, "...you're in for a very rude awakening." My back finds the closed apartment door before I even realize I'm moving. The cool surface of the wood presses into my spine as his shadow swallows the light between us. I can't move. I can't speak. His frame fills my vision, his scent closing around me. He leans in, slow enough for me to feel each inch of air he steals. His breath fans across the bare skin at my neck. My eyelids flutter heavy and half-closed as I feel him inhale deeply, savoring me. He stops just shy of my ear - close enough that every nerve there screams for contact. "I wonder," he murmurs, voice like heat and smoke, "if you taste as good as you smell." He drags his breath across my neck, deliberately slow, like a fingertip tracing the edge of a blade. Each exhale scorches a trail down my skin until he's at my other ear. "Just you wait..." he says, quieter now, more dangerous, "...your punishment will be ten times as painful as this." She stalked him. He found her. Now obsession is a game neither can escape. Persephone's quiet life shatters when Damien Veylor-a tattooed hacker with a dangerous smile-discovers her secret. What begins as punishment ignites into something darker: control, desire, and a fire that could consume them both. She should run. But when the man you've only fantasized about finally looks back... running is the last thing you want to do.
𝓑𝚄𝚁𝙽𝙸𝙽𝙶 𝓓𝙴𝚂𝙸𝚁𝙴
He strokes himself with his eyes closed, and there he is-laid out in front of him, thighs parted, skin slick with desire. He imagines his hand sliding up that throat, feeling the shiver rise under his palm before tightening just enough to draw a gasp. His mouth would follow-hungry-down that taut chest, licking, biting, until a rough moan spills out. He knows how that body would respond: the way the hips would lift, aching for more, when his tongue moves lower, so much lower, tasting that salty, trembling skin. And those eyes... those 𝒇𝒖𝒄𝒌𝒊𝒏𝒈 eyes drowning in pleasure, staring back at him with that kind of yielding that would drag a growl from his chest. He sinks deeper into it-deeper into the vision-imagining his fingers there, buried to the knuckles, while the other writhes beneath him, lips swollen from begging too long.
Kiss Me Like a Lie
He hated her. Not the I-don't-like-you kind of hate. No. He hates her with every fibre of his being. Her mere presence set him off. He hates her know it all smile and the way she brushes her hair out of her face when she is upset. The way she played with her hands when she's nervous or made snarky remarks whenever he walked into a room. He hates her with every fibre of his being. She hated him. With every fibre of her being. With his sarcastic comments and devilish grin. She hated the way he never would address her politely, or at all for that matter. He was rude and annoying and she hated it all. Everything about him. She couldn't stand it. But then again, there's a very thin line between hate and love... - Dark romance - Enemies to lovers - Arranged marriage. - Forced proximity. - Revenge.![The Art of Taking [+18]](https://img.wattpad.com/cover/399449387-256-k447540.jpg)
The Art of Taking [+18]
"You gonna tell me your name?" he asked at last, his voice deep enough to crawl right under it. I shook my head. "No." Something in his expression sharpened-approval, maybe. "Good." He didn't come to me right away. He took his time, pushing off the door with deliberate slowness, each step closing the distance in steady increments. I didn't move. Couldn't. My back found the wall before he'd even touched me. He stopped just short-close enough for the heat of him to seep through the small space between us. His scent hit me first-smoke, whiskey, and something clean that didn't fit the chaos of the party outside. His head tilted slightly, studying my mouth, then my eyes, then my mouth again. His hand lifted-not to grab, not yet. Just to trace. The backs of his fingers skimmed my jaw, slow enough that I could feel every millimeter of skin they passed over. They trailed down the side of my neck, pausing in the hollow of my throat, not pressing-just resting there. "You've got that look," he murmured. "What look?" My voice was steadier than I felt. "Like you want me to ruin you." I should've laughed. Teased. Something. Instead, I held his gaze. "Maybe I do." The corner of his mouth twitched-not quite a smile, but something hungrier. Still, he didn't touch me the way I wanted him to. Instead, his knuckles dragged down my collarbone, over the bare skin just above my dress, grazing the swell of my breast without claiming it. "You sure you can handle forgetting?" he asked, his voice lower now, as if we weren't already breathing the same air. "Try me," I said. That broke something in him. His hands framed my face, thumbs brushing along my cheekbones, holding me still as his eyes searched mine like he was committing the color of them to memory. Then-finally-he kissed me.
The Strip Game
*You are mine and the world will know it.* She was supposed to be just a stripper, right? But then why did his heart skip a beat when she sat on his lap and pulled him down, gripping his tie? He was a mafia king. Everyone was scared of him, feared him. But this woman was different. She walked to him and sat on his lap, fearless-or maybe just foolish. When he looked into her eyes, his heart skipped a beat again. Those ocean-blue eyes looked beautiful but too hard to read. Suddenly, he wanted to drown in them. In that moment, he knew she was his uncharted territory, and he was going to make every man regret trying to touch her ever again. But it wasn't always easy, and he knew it. She was fire, and he could get burned. But he was obsessed with her, and he would make her his.
Illumined Desires
"He looked at her like he just realized what love is." ✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩ "Can I..." I hesitated for a moment, but because it's the one thing I needed most, I pushed through, "will you just hold me for a minute." He didn't hesitate and tugged me against his chest. His arms wrapped tightly around me, and then I felt his breaths warming the top of my head. Slowly, I turned my cheek, and then I listened to his steady heartbeat. I shoved all my fear, my confusion, and my uncertain feelings for him aside and allowed myself to be weak. I closed my eyes, and grabbing hold of his sides, I fisted the fabric of his shirt. Before the tears come, I pulled away from him but he took one look at my face then yanked me back to him. Emotions whirled in my chest, and then a new one joined the chaos. Affection. It's as if he knows exactly what I need without me having to say a word. He pressed kisses against my hair, his voice an anchor that kept me from drowning as he murmured, "It's okay, love." Another kiss, and his arms clamped tightly around me. "You have me."Complete
Damien's head tilts slightly, then he turns toward me - slowly, purposefully, like a predator pivoting to a new prey. My pulse hammers against my throat. That grin of his blooms across his face, slow and wolfish. It looks wrong on him - or maybe it's just too right. "If you believe, even for a second, that your insult from earlier will go unanswered..." his voice drops to a near purr, "...you're in for a very rude awakening." My back finds the closed apartment door before I even realize I'm moving. The cool surface of the wood presses into my spine as his shadow swallows the light between us. I can't move. I can't speak. His frame fills my vision, his scent closing around me. He leans in, slow enough for me to feel each inch of air he steals. His breath fans across the bare skin at my neck. My eyelids flutter heavy and half-closed as I feel him inhale deeply, savoring me. He stops just shy of my ear - close enough that every nerve there screams for contact. "I wonder," he murmurs, voice like heat and smoke, "if you taste as good as you smell." He drags his breath across my neck, deliberately slow, like a fingertip tracing the edge of a blade. Each exhale scorches a trail down my skin until he's at my other ear. "Just you wait..." he says, quieter now, more dangerous, "...your punishment will be ten times as painful as this." She stalked him. He found her. Now obsession is a game neither can escape. Persephone's quiet life shatters when Damien Veylor-a tattooed hacker with a dangerous smile-discovers her secret. What begins as punishment ignites into something darker: control, desire, and a fire that could consume them both. She should run. But when the man you've only fantasized about finally looks back... running is the last thing you want to do.
More detailsContent Guidelines