
Bound to the calloway's heir
In LA's Business world, Zane Calloway, thirty, turns cartel king after his father's gruesome murder, ruling The Atlas Group with a bloody fist. He learned how betrayal could ruin even the biggest empire and was hell bent on keeping Atlas Group. However when Sienna Carter, his new assistant got in the picture, he threw caution to the wind. To become the only one controlling the cartel, he would use Sienna who was a supposedly ghost from a dead cartel as bait for his enemies. Sienna Carter made his mission become even more complicated as she ignites a dangerous sparks in him. Twenty-five year old Sienna Carter just wanted to stay alive, running away from danger had been the only thing she was capable of since her family were murdered. All she had as a semblance of her old life was the locket her dying father had given her and when a new job pops up in Los Angeles, she gambled for it, hoping for her sake that it wouldn't lead her straight to the same hell she was running from.
However, she would soon realize that the Atlas Groups was going to be more than just a survival decision but the key to everything.
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Chapter 48
DAMIAN.
I sighed with impatience as I kept my eyes fixed on the studio's door, like the building was magically going to vanish before my eyes. Ava's modeling shoot was supposed to wrap an hour ago, but she was still inside, probably laughing with those unbothered colleagues of hers. She should know better than to hang around after her shoot.
I stepped out of the car, the evening air cool against my skin, and leaned against the hood. The studio door swung open, and Ava stepped out, her hair catching the last of the studio light's glow behind her. She was in a loose sweater and jeans now, the kind of casual that made her look like she'd stepped out of a dream. But she wasn't alone. She was chatting away with a colleague, her laughter making me jealous of what was so funny. The guy stood too close, his smile all teeth and charm. I clenched my jaw, getting pissed as he whispered something to her, and she tossed her head back, laughing again. The sound twisted something in my chest, one I knew I didn't like at all.
"Damian!" Ava's voice snapped me out of my haze. She waved, breaking away from him and jogging toward me. Her bag bounced against her hip, and her smile was so bright I got lost staring. "You're early."
"Am I?" I said, I shoved my hands into my jacket pockets, trying to shake the image of the guy's hand grazing her elbow. "Looked like you were having fun."
Her brow quirked, and I could tell she had caught the edge in my tone. "Jake? It's just work, Damian. You know that." She stopped a foot away, close enough that I could smell her perfume.
"Yeah," I muttered, opening the passenger door for her. "Let's go."
She slid into the seat, her eyes lingering on me. I didn't meet them. I couldn't. Not when my head was a mess of jealousy and things I couldn't say.
The drive to her apartment was quiet, as I intentionally let the radio hum some of the pop songs she liked. She tapped her fingers against the window, her nails clicking softly. I kept my eyes on the road, but my mind was on her, taking in how her sweater slipped off one shoulder, on the way she hummed under her breath, oblivious to the war raging inside me. I wanted to ask her about Jake, to ask if there was anything more. But what right did I have? She had the right to warm up to any guy; I had made my choice, and perhaps to my dismay, she was making hers too.
When we got to her place, she didn't let me off the hook like I'd expected. I had planned to drop her off, make sure the locks were secure, and head out. Do my job. Keep my distance. But as I turned to leave, her hand caught my wrist.
"Stay," she said. "Just for a bit."
I should have said no and pulled away, perhaps mumbled some excuse about checking the perimeter. But the way her eyes were on me made my excuses crumble. "Fine," I said, stepping inside. "Just for a bit."
Beaming her smile at me, she walked to the mini-bar and retrieved a bottle of champagne. She poured us both a drink. I took the glass she offered, our fingers brushing for a split second. My pulse kicked up, and I cursed myself for it.
We settled on the couch as we sipped the drink silently. She tucked her legs under her, facing me, her glass cradled in both hands. The silence wasn't awkward, but it was oddly weird. It was loaded with things neither of us were saying. I took a sip, then another, trying to drown the thoughts clawing at me.
"So," she said, breaking the quiet. "You going to tell me why you looked like you wanted to punch Jake earlier?"
I froze, the glass halfway to my mouth. She'd seen it, then. Of course, she had. Ava always saw through me, even when I wished she wouldn't. I set the glass down, buying time. "Didn't like the way he was looking at you," I admitted. "Too... familiar."
She laughed, a soft, throaty sound that sent heat curling through me. "Damian, it's just work. He's a photographer. He's supposed to look at me." She tilted her head, her eyes glinting with mischief. "You're not jealous, are you?"
The question hit as precisely as she had wanted. I wanted to deny it by laughing it off, but the truth was burning in my chest. "Maybe," I said, the word slipping out before I could stop it. Her eyes widened.
"There's nothing between us," she said. "You know that, right?"
I nodded, my throat tight. "Yeah. I know." And I did. I believed her. But believing her didn't erase the ache of the part of me that wanted to pull her close and claim her as mine.
We drank more, the wine loosening the edges of my restraint. She shifted closer, her knee brushing mine, and the contact sent a jolt through me. I let my hand rest on the couch between us, inches from hers.
"Damian," she said. "Do we have a chance?"
The question landed like a blow, stealing my breath. I'd known it was coming, someday, but I wasn't ready. Not now, not with her so close, her scent wrapping around me like a memory. I stared at the wine in my glass, the dark liquid catching the lamplight. "You know why not," I said finally.
"That's not the whole truth," she pressed, leaning forward. Her hair fell over one shoulder, and I fought the urge to tuck it back. "Would you, for once, stop with the excuses and give me an answer, Damian?"
"I am scared," I admitted, the words tearing free like they'd been caged too long. "Scared of how much I wanted you. Scared of what it'd do to me if I let myself have you and then lost you."
I looked away, clenching my hands into fists. "I think pushing you away is the only way to keep you safe. From me."
She was quiet for a long moment, and I braced myself for her anger. But when she spoke, her voice was gentle, almost tender. "You idiot," she said, and there was a smile in her words. "You don't get to decide what's safe for me."
I looked at her then, and the sight of her eyes, soft and parted lips undid me. She set her glass down and slid closer, her hand finding mine. I didn't pull away.
"I'm not that girl anymore, Damian," she said. "I'm not fragile. I don't need you to protect me from yourself."
My heart pounded in a wild, desperate rhythm. "Ava," I started, but the words died as she leaned in, her breath warm against my cheek.
"Hmmm," she whispered, her hand tightening on mine. "But what about you? What about what you want?"
I wanted to tell her it didn't matter, that my wants had no place here. But her eyes held mine, and the truth spilled out. "You," I said. "I've always wanted you."
Her breath caught, and for a moment, the world stopped. Then she moved, closing the distance between us, her lips finding mine in a fierce kiss. Her warm mouth tasted like coming home. I kissed her back, my hands sliding to her waist, pulling her closer.
My fingers tightened around her neck, then I moved fast. When my mouth slammed into hers, she instinctively pressed her free hand against my chest. Either to push me away or pull me closer, I couldn't tell at that moment. When her tongue sweeps into my mouth, all common sense vanishes from my mind.
Having Ava kiss me at that moment was the last thing I expected, and it was too overwhelming to process anything.
Her tongue massaged mine in a way that made tingles engulf my entire body. Her lips nipped at mine, leaving me completely breathless. Just as quickly as she initiated the kiss, she pulled away from me. She lifted her hand slowly to my face until her fingers brushed over my tingling lips.
When we pulled apart, her forehead rested against mine, her breath uneven. "Damian," she murmured, her voice trembling with something that mirrored the ache in my chest. "Don't push me away again."
I swallowed hard, my hands still on her, grounding me. "I won't," I said, and it was a vow, not just to her but to myself. "I'll keep you safe, Ava. From everything, even me."
"Show me, Damian," she winked at me, leaning further away.
That was a challenge, one I had no intention of not winning. Desire bleeds through my veins, and it makes me grab hold of her hips. I lift her from her feet, and as my mouth takes her prisoner, I stalk to her bed, where I slam her down onto the couch.
A shocked breath explodes from her, and I drink it like the sweet nectar it is.
When my body covered hers, Ava's hands pressed against my shoulders. I grabbed her wrists and pinned her arms down on either side of her head, and she had no choice but to spread her legs so she could accommodate my hips.
I fucking feasted on her mouth, my mind quickly clouding with a hunger I had never felt before. It was fucking insatiable and dangerous. Dangerous because this woman already had a hold on me. I couldn't shake. She was beneath my skin and crawling into my chest where my heart was supposed to be.
My tongue lashes against hers, memorizing her mouth and her sweet, sweet fucking taste. My hands move down her arms and over her sides. When my palms found her ass, I rubbed my aching cock against the scorching heat coming from her pussy. We both groaned, and I almost lost my fucking mind.
The kiss turned wild, and with zero control, I started to thrust against her pussy, my hard-on rubbing her clit through the fabric.
"Damian," she moaned into my mouth. She took her hands to my jaw, and then she started to kiss me back with so much passion that stars exploded behind my eyelids.
My hips continued to move, and I rubbed her pussy raw, my cock fucking desperate for every bit of friction I could get. When Ava lifted her hips, and she began to meet my thrusts, gasps spilled from her lips. "Da...Da...Damian."
Her body strained against mine, and I broke the kiss to watch her face as she came apart beneath me. She looked fucking angelic, her swollen lips parted, and her eyes clouded with pleasure. There's no stopping me as I move down her body. Grabbing her jeans, I ripped them down her legs.
"Take off your sweater," I ordered, my tone way too fucking harsh with impatience. My eyes burned over every inch of her skin as she carried out the order, and when she lay naked on the white couch, something shifted in my chest. She's fucking perfect.
I shove my sweatpants down, and Ava's eyes widen when they land on my cock. She remembered it. The words drifted somewhere in the back of my mind as I crawled back over her sweet little body that was trembling from the pleasure she had just experienced.
The thought fleeted as I pressed a kiss to the valley between her breasts before my mouth found her nipple. I sucked it into my mouth while my hands feasted on her soft, as fuck skin. My touch grew rougher as my palms burned a path from her sides to her breasts. I kissed my way up her throat before taking her mouth again.
Ava wrapped her arms around my neck, and when I felt her fingers twist in my hair, my body shuddered with satisfaction. My hands moved down, and I positioned my oversensitive cock at her soaked entrance. Fuck, it's been too long.
I freed her mouth and locked eyes with her. As I stared down at Ava, her hands slipped over my shoulders and down my chest before moving back up to settle on the sides of my neck. I should be gentler. I should ask if she's ready.
There's a lot I should do, but I have zero self-restraint when it comes to Ava. I braced a forearm beside her head, and my free hand gripped her hip tightly. I thrust again, managing to force myself a couple of inches into her wet heat.
I felt her breasts against my chest as I thrusted deeper, and this time, she clenched her jaw to keep from making a sound.
I braced her leg over my ass to open her wider. When I slammed into her, she pulled her arms away from me to cover her mouth as a cry was torn from her.
"Breathe," I grind the word out.
She gasps, and I take hold of her wrists and pin them on either side of her head. I kissed a tear away from her temple, and not able to keep still for much longer, I pushed an arm beneath her and held her to me.
"Hmmm," I growled right before I started to move.
The pleasure of being inside her becomes an inferno that engulfs my entire being. I felt like a possessed man as I hammered into her, and I couldn't control the pace at all.
Fuck.
I heard the sounds of our bodies colliding as mine claims hers. I heard her gasps and pain-filled whimpers, and I sealed my mouth to hers because each one belongs to me.
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9.2
"Rip my ass apart, Daddy! Fuck the shit out of me! God, yes!"
"So fucking tight, Jenny. No matter how many times I fuck your ass, it's always like the first time... Are you being good for daddy? Keeping other dicks out of this perfect ass?"
"Yes, Daddy. Only yours," she moaned...
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Plunge into a filthy taboo erotica collection where daddies (step daddies, daddies-in-law, and other forbidden fruit) crave and claim their teasing little girls in raw, boundary shattering steamy shorts.
Loaded with intense dirty talk, dubious consent edges, high risk exposure thrills, possessive breeding kinks, degradation and humiliation, and scorching incest.
Please take care of your mental health. It gets dark and twisted in here...
###
A conflicted step daddy wrecks his stepdaughter's holes on his marital bed while his wife lurks nearby.
A blind step daughter is tricked into fucking daddy.
A daddy fucks his step daughter on her wedding day... to his son.
Billionaire daddies. Don daddies. A daddy that fucks his son's girlfriend... in front of his son.
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Indulge in these and other dark fantasies with twist endings that will stay with you.
She begs for daddy's brutal cock. He can't stop stretching his filthy little girl.
***All characters are over 18. Explicit content ahead. 18+ only. Reader discretion is advised.

9.4
I walked away from a billionaire husband who betrayed me with my best friend-divorced, pregnant with twins, and determined never to look back.
But Ethan Harrington doesn't know how to lose.
Years later, he's sober, broken, and begging for scraps of time with our children. Supervised visits. Two hours a month. Steel boundaries.
I thought revenge would feel sweeter.
Instead, I found Damian Black-dangerous, devoted, scarred by his own shadows-and built a new empire from the ashes of the old one.
Now I'm carrying his child.
Our daughter.
But when Ethan's redemption starts looking too real, and old secrets threaten to unravel everything I've fought for...
Will I finally close the door on my past?
Or will one last betrayal force me to choose between the family I chose and the one that was forced on me?
Betrayal. Divorce. Secret babies. Second chances. Revenge. A kickass heroine rising from ruin.
And a love that refuses to stay buried.

8.7
Five years ago, I was the invisible scholarship charity case at an elite Manhattan prep school, trying to survive in a sea of trust-fund babies.
Arlo Hammond, the untouchable billionaire heir, made sure to completely dismantle my soul.
When his wealthy friends asked if he noticed me, his mocking laughter echoed down the hallway.
"Are you out of your mind? You seriously think I'd be interested in a boring little nerd like her?"
But the moment we were alone, he would corner me in dark alleys, pinning my wrists against brick walls with terrifying, possessive jealousy if my phone even buzzed. He played his twisted games until I was left standing in the rain with my shattered dignity.
Now, I am an Assistant District Attorney. I spent years burying those memories under mountains of legal files.
But tonight, he returned.
When we crossed paths at an exclusive club, he looked at me with the cool detachment he'd give a piece of furniture. In front of a crowd of elites, he coldly declared:
"We have absolutely nothing to do with each other anymore."
Then he walked away to pick up a supermodel, leaving me trembling from the sheer humiliation.
I didn't understand. If I was so worthless to him, why did he still have my birthday tattooed in dark ink on his wrist? Why did he look at me with such raw, painful vulnerability in the shadows?
I stared at my pale reflection in the mirror and made a silent vow.
I am not that pathetic seventeen-year-old anymore, and I will prove to him that I am completely, entirely over him.

7.2
For three years, I was imprisoned by Anderson Hopper, the monster who forced me to watch my fiancé, Kendall, plummet into a freezing river.
But when I saw the morning news, I realized Kendall wasn't dead. He had returned as Eben Gill, a ruthless tech billionaire.
I risked my life to escape and find him, only to be met with eyes full of absolute hatred.
He publicly humiliated me, dragged me to the exact bridge where he "died," and sneered at the C-section scar on my stomach.
"Anderson Hopper's bastard," he spat, completely unaware that the baby was actually his—the very child Anderson had murdered in the operating room to break me.
To make matters worse, Anderson used Kendall's dying mother as a hostage to force me back into my cage.
I knelt on the freezing asphalt, begging the man I loved to just visit his mother, while he coldly ordered his driver to run me over.
I had lost my baby, my freedom, and my dignity, all to protect him from Anderson's blackmail. Why was I the one being tortured and treated like a traitor?
"Don't think your little kneeling stunt earned you my forgiveness."
He whispered those cruel words before walking away without looking back.
Staring at his cold, retreating figure, the last shred of my love finally turned to ash.
That night, under the cover of a torrential storm, I bypassed the estate's laser grids and walked out into the dark.

9.1
Elise thought her life was finally falling into place. She turned down her father's company to work as executive assistant to Marcus Grey-the boy she's loved since childhood, now the powerful CEO she's devoted her life to.
But when Marcus proposes to another woman, Elise's world crumbles. Enter Sebastian Deluca-Marcus's tattooed, ruthless, long-estranged brother. He's everything Marcus isn't: dangerous, magnetic, and determined to take back his place in New York.
But, there's something odd about him.
Something changed since he arrived.
Bound by family secrets and a mutual desire to expose Marcus's fiancée, Elise and Sebastian form an uneasy alliance. But as sparks ignite between them, Elise must choose: remain loyal to the boy she thought she loved, or risk everything for the man who sees her as more than a shadow.
Some loves are safe. Others are consuming. Which one will she survive?

7.1
For six years, I was the perfect, obedient wife to billionaire Hartwell Ware, enduring his coldness because I thought my love could eventually thaw his heart.
Then, my friend sent me a photo. Hartwell was at the airport, tenderly holding the waist of his first love, Eveline Craig.
He came home smelling of her synthetic rose perfume, accused me of stalking him, and coldly demanded a divorce.
His lawyer handed me a thick settlement agreement. It offered astronomical alimony and luxury properties, but it came with a humiliating ten-page non-disclosure agreement.
He wanted to buy my silence. He wanted to strip me of my rights to our son and gag me permanently, just so he could parade his new life with Eveline without any PR backlash.
Even now, he still thought I was a gold digger who had orchestrated a media scandal to trap him into marriage.
I stared at the man I had worshipped for two thousand days. My six years of desperate devotion had been nothing but a humiliating, one-sided delusion.
Hope was finally dead, and with it, my tears had completely dried up.
He expected me to cry, to beg, to negotiate for more millions.
Instead, I snatched the pen, crossed out the massive alimony, and signed my name on the dotted line.
"I am taking the basic child support, and not a single red cent more."
Leaving my five-carat diamond ring on the marble table, I walked out the door with nothing but my old suitcase.