Biker in Law's death kiss
"Don't tease me again or else you really want it. There are no safe words in my bed."
He is rumored to know a thousand ways to disarm and pleasure a woman, and I am Olivia, the nymphomaniac.
In a quest for revenge against my childhood bullies, I got locked into an unhappy marriage, with an untamed brother-in-law. Colt Fletcher, the morally-grey, rebel biker is ever excited by danger and prefers life on the edge. And from the moment he laid eyes on me, I became his forbidden want.
I should know better, to steer clear of deadly desires like these but when fate forces us to live under the same roof, share the same boardroom, and every accidental touch burns, my resolve begins to collapse.
But scandals don't stay buried, and my husband is the devil. The price of this betrayal is death. I must choose between my husband who owns my name, and his brother who owns my body.
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Chapter 4
I crossed my legs on the brown leather couch.
Tossing my hair back, I flashed Dean Fletcher a wide smile without acknowledging Colt's presence.
"You look stunning, La Rose." Dean's deep voice dripped with secret promises.
"Really?" I fanned my face comically, and he let out a deep laugh.
"Thank you," I said finally, my hand slowly running down my thigh.
Dean was not as confident as his brother. He blushed and looked away.
My eyes finally met Colt, and his gaze was piercing. But I remained poker-faced, and tension descended into the room.
Still, he did not look away.
He sat with careless arrogance, legs spread, shirtless as always, his ringed fingers drumming on the empty seat beside him.
Did the man not own a shirt? He wore every damn thing without one. Suits, coats, now a knee-length blazer.
Dean cleared his throat, and laughed nervously. "I know this is an awkward situation, and an odd question, but have you decided which one of us you'll marry?"
"Why is it odd?" I turned to him with a frown.
"What?" He blinked.
I stared, waiting.
"I mean." Dean stumbled over his words. "This only used to happen centuries ago."
"Do you mean modern women do not deserve to pick the best of the bunch?"
"I never said that." Dean hurriedly began to speak, but paused, squinting at me.
He looked conflicted, unable to decide if I had just insulted him.
I smiled slowly, "I am afraid we will have to do more archaic things today." I looked from one brother to the other.
"I cannot choose between you two."
"What do you mean?" Dean asked.
"I took great care in accessing both your qualities. Trust me." I grabbed my bag, "I have a chart illustration if you would like to see."
"No, no," they said in unison.
I smiled, and placed my bag down on the side table again.
"You're both wonderful men," I shook my head for effect. "But you're equally matched."
They watched me silently.
"Except for one important factor. But I have no information on that."
"What is it?" Dean Fletcher scooted to the edge of his seat.
"I'd like to see you both arm wrestle to determine who is stronger."
For several seconds, both men were frozen in place as a hush settled in the private suite. Colt was the first one to break out of the ice mold.
"Is this fun for you?"
"You can choose a boxing match instead. I only want to be certain I am marrying the stronger brother."
"Why does that matter, Miss Auclair?" Dean Fletcher squinted in confusion.
"Because every woman desires a strong husband capable of protecting her."
"This is ridiculous!" Colt shot to his feet.
I stood up, covering the distance between us till our faces were just one inch apart.
"I am bringing my family's wealth, our legacy that has been carefully maintained over generations to the Fletchers, a struggling giant, and you think my request is ridiculous?" Our eyes locked.
"Let's calm down." Dean Fletcher moved to separate us.
"I am sorry for wasting your time, gentlemen." I turned around and grabbed my bag.
"Olivia," Dean Fletcher stepped in front of me. "My brother can be quite passionate sometimes." He winced, running his hand through his hair in distress.
"That is bad for business," my voice came out flat.
"I know."
"You know?" Colt spat. "I am not the one with a struggling business."
"Bring your voice down, brother." Dean said calmly, but the look in his eyes frightened me for a second.
"Or?" Colt swaggered up to us.
My back stiffened, painfully away of his body heat and how close he stood now.
Dean laughed darkly, "It would be stupid to waste this rage. Let's measure dick on that table."
"Sure." Colt shrugged, and turned around.
He leaned in close to me, and inhaled deeply. My fingers tightened around my purse strap.
"Just how wet are you?" He murmured in my ear. "It smells good."
I was struggling so hard now my head began to drum in a headache.
He brushed my hair back gently. "I will win, wed you, and fuck that arrogance out of you."
I inhaled unintentionally.
"Good girl," he smiled coyly, walking away.
I could barely concentrate as the brothers prepared to arm wrestle. The room had become unbearably hot as Colt took off his jacket, exposing his burly tattooed arms, hard as timber.
I painfully resisted pressing my knees together, because my legs were in full view.
By the time Colt grabbed his brother's arm, thick forearm veins standing out, I was sweating.
This was torture and definitely a bad idea. I was so wet now I was grateful my dress was black, but terrified the leather seat might have evidence when I stood up.
The brothers struggled for a couple of seconds.
Then Colt groaned, pushing Dean's hand down. It was such an erotic sound it sent electricity coursing down my back,
He turned to me with a victorious smile as Dean looked away.
Despite Colt winning, I was supposed to choose his brother. That had been the plan before I even met them.
But now I wonder if I could just take the risk of choosing Colt.
I shook my head. My lust was interfering with logic.
"Well done." I smiled at Colt for the first time, standing up. "But I cannot marry you."
"What?" Both brothers said in unison.
I took a step towards Dean, and stood by his side. "You will make a great husband, Dean Fletcher." I batted my lashes at him, and the man literally melted.
"What the hell do you think you are doing, Olivia?" Colt thundered.
Dean turned frosty eyes towards him now. "That's done. You will speak to my future wife with respect."
"What?" Colt chuckled in disbelief, covering the distance between us.
This was supposed to be my first moment of victory, so why was my heart breaking at the hurt look in Colt's eyes?
I turned, hurrying away. But Colt grabbed my arm and pulled me back.
Dean pushed him off. "And you will keep a respectful distance away from her.
I bolted.
The look of betrayal in Colt's eyes was doing something to me.
"Olivia," Dean called, running after me, but I did not stop till he grabbed my waist and spun me around.
I grabbed his face and kissed him. They were brothers. They had to be similar.
Dean Fletcher would drive Colt away from my mind.
But his kiss was slow, nothing at all like Colt's, still fresh in my memory from eleven years ago.
I deepened the kiss, my hand landing on his abs and traveling downwards where we stood in the empty lobby.
Dean bucked against me, but when I grabbed his dick it was limp.
I frowned, stroking it, my fingers moving fast. But it remained heavy and flaccid in my palm.
I flinched away from him, my cheeks burning in embarrassment.
"No. It's not you, Olivia," Dean said, hurriedly. "I find you hot as fuck."
I frowned at him, still too stunned to speak.
"You have agreed to be my wife. So you should know this." He paused and ran his hand over his face, his skin turning as red as mine must have looked. "I have Erectile Dysfunction."
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9.0
Ashlyn was supposed to be just a fragile college student, selling her rare blood to a vicious crime syndicate enforcer to keep his dying sister alive.
But the dynamic shattered when Alex returned from a two-month disappearance. He stepped into the penthouse covered in dirt and blood, sporting a horrific, jagged knife wound slashed completely across his face.
Knowing exactly how to exploit his insecurities, Ashlyn played the role of the terrified victim to perfection. She screamed, pushed against his chest, and called him a terrifying monster. Humiliated and enraged by her blatant disgust, Alex violently smashed a marble table and kicked her out. He forced her out into a freezing, torrential rainstorm without a coat, vowing to kill her if she ever showed her face again.
What the ruthless enforcer didn't know was that her pathetic, trembling tears were a flawless, calculated lie. She wasn't a helpless, greedy girl. She was a cold-blooded corporate mastermind hiding from a family of elite assassins. She desperately needed his impenetrable penthouse fortress to stay alive, and she knew the only way to secure her place wasn't to ask for it, but to make him beg for her return.
Three days later, his sister's organs began to fail, and the hospital's blood bank ran dry.
"I'll pay you whatever you want. Just get here."
Listening to the desperate, broken voice of the monster over her burner phone, Ashlyn smiled coldly in the dark. The trap had snapped shut, and he had just handed her all the power.
9.0
I shattered my knee jumping in front of a silver bullet meant for him.
The poison seeped into my marrow, putting my wolf into a coma and leaving me crippled.
I thought my sacrifice would secure his love forever.
Instead, five years later, Brennan stood in a warehouse while a Rogue held a silver-laced dagger to my throat.
Beside me sat Debbi, his mistress—a spy who had staged the whole kidnapping.
"You can only save one," the kidnapper sneered.
Brennan didn't even hesitate.
He looked me in the eye, his gaze cold and devoid of the bond we once shared.
"I choose Debbi," he said.
He walked out with her in his arms, leaving his Fated Mate to bleed out on the concrete floor.
As the blade dug into my skin, I felt the mate bond snap.
He thought I died in the explosion that followed.
He spent weeks howling in grief when he finally realized Debbi was a traitor and he had killed the only woman who truly loved him.
But he was wrong.
I didn't die.
A federal agent pulled me from the fire, and the trauma didn't kill my wolf—it woke her up.
A year later, Brennan walked into a small bistro in Italy, looking for redemption.
He fell to his knees when he saw me standing there, healed and glowing with the aura of a White Wolf.
"Alyssa," he wept, reaching for me. "I'm so sorry. I'll do anything."
I looked him dead in the eye, my gaze icy blue.
"Get out," I said. "We don't serve traitors here."
8.9
WARNING: FOR MATURE READERS ONLY!!!
This erotica collection is raw, hot, intense, and packed with deliciously filthy fucktwists that will leave you breathless.
Each story is steamy, gripping, and driven by compelling plots that pull you deep into forbidden desire.
You will find A strict 59-year-old professor bends his tempting student over his desk and growls that she's been a very bad girl.
A college student wakes up sore and dripping in her biggest rival's bed, with no memory of how many times he fucked her senseless.
Her hot stepdad has a secret camera aimed at her bed. When she catches him watching, she doesn't rage - she spreads her legs and gives him the show of his life.
A seductive woman is the only weakness of a ruthless mafia king, and he finally claims her body as his own.
She knows her sister is cheating, so she seduces her husband right in front of her - and her sister can't say a single word.
Piper's rent is overdue. Instead of paying up, she drops to her knees for the landlord while her boyfriend watches.
A spoiled, arrogant rich brat demands a private striptease. The dancer doesn't walk away - she dances for him until he completely loses control.
An assistant's boyfriend has a huge cock, but "Daddy" knows exactly how to ruin her with his tongue. She chooses Daddy.
Best friends make a wicked bet: seduce my dad. She takes the bet... and loses all control the moment he bends her over.
Chloe has been secretly masturbating to her stepbrother's photos, moaning his name as she comes. She can't hide it much longer.
A married gym coach can't stop staring at the sexy teacher. She goes all the way and lets him take her between her thighs.
Her doctor tells her she needs rest... but she's determined to prove she's strong enough to be fucked senseless on his examination table.
Every twisted fantasy and every scorching answer waits inside these pages.
Flip the pages, spread your legs... and get ready to throb.
8.9
My husband, the Outfit’s most feared Consigliere, stood up and buttoned his suit jacket.
He had just convinced a jury that Sofia Moretti was innocent.
But we both knew the truth: Sofia had poisoned my mother over a spilled martini on her Valentino dress.
Instead of comforting me, Dante looked at me with cold, dead eyes.
"If you make a scene," he whispered, gripping my arm until it bruised, "I will bury you in a psychiatric ward so deep even God won't find you."
To protect the Family alliance, he sacrificed his wife.
When I tried to fight back, he drugged me at a gala.
He let a private investigator take photos of me, naked and unconscious, just to have leverage to keep me silent.
He paraded Sofia around our penthouse, letting her wear my dead mother’s shawl while I was banished to the staff quarters.
He thought he had broken me.
He thought I was just a nurse’s daughter he could manage.
But he made a fatal error.
He didn't read the "committal forms" I handed him to sign.
They were divorce papers, transferring his assets to me.
And the night of the yacht party, while he toasted to his victory with my mother's killer, I left my wedding ring on the deck.
I didn't jump to die.
I jumped to be reborn.
And when I resurfaced, I made sure Dante Russo burned for every sin.
7.3
I was the daughter of a loyal Mafia Capo, arranged to marry the Underboss of the Moretti family. But I gave my heart to his brother, Marco, who promised to break the betrothal and protect me.
When I went into premature labor in a freezing, abandoned warehouse, Marco didn't come to save me. He sent my cousin, Caitlin.
With a mocking smile, she told me Marco despised my "filthy Irish blood" and that my pregnancy was just a temporary amusement.
Then, she pulled out a hunting knife.
She pinned me down, sliced my abdomen open, and smothered my newborn baby right in front of my eyes.
"He agreed that this inconvenience needs to be removed," she whispered.
She revealed that she and Marco had orchestrated my father's murder to secure Mafia shipping routes. Then, she casually knocked over a kerosene lantern, locking the heavy metal door to let me and my dead child burn to ash.
While they headed to a high-society gala to celebrate my "accidental" death and their new power, I lay in the roaring flames.
As the fire blistered my skin and I held my baby's lifeless body, my suffocating despair froze into a razor-sharp rage. My entire life, my family, and my love had been built on their calculated lies.
But they made one fatal mistake. I didn't die in that inferno.
I dragged my ruined body out of the ashes, wrapped myself in a blood-soaked coat, and walked straight into their celebration banquet to become their goddamn reckoning.
8.8
I spent three years hating Damien Castillo, the ruthless mafia Don who kidnapped me from my engagement party and ruined my reputation.
But in the end, it was my perfect fiancé, Julian, and my sweet half-sister, Sophia, who slipped the deadly poison into my wine.
As the venom burned through my veins in that freezing cellar, I watched Julian smile. He and Sophia had orchestrated my brutal death. She had been sleeping in his bed all along, intentionally miscarrying his bastard child just to frame me as 'impure' and strip me of my family's protection. My own father used me as a political pawn, letting them throw me away like garbage.
And Damien? The monster I had fought and despised for years marched straight into a suicide ambush for me. He was riddled with bullets, turning his body into a human shield just to buy me a few more seconds of life.
"Touch her and you die."
I died in that blood-soaked basement, clutching his lifeless body, suffocating on my own blind trust. Why did I ever believe the golden boy who betrayed me? Why did I fight the only man who truly loved me?
Opening my eyes again, the stench of copper and mold was gone, replaced by the scent of Cuban cigars and black silk.
I was back in 1928, on the exact night Damien stormed my engagement party and locked me in his penthouse.
This time, when the ruthless Don approached me, I didn't scream or run back to my killers. I wrapped my arms around his neck and kissed him.