
Claimed Raw by my Husband's Ruthless Best friend
"Please, let me taste you," Ava begged, broken and desperate-after he tortured her by forcing her to watch as he claimed that blonde. "Now, spread those thighs, sweetheart. Show me how wet you already are for me."
Ava Sinclair Vance was once a stripper. Now she's the wife of billionaire Leon Vance, bound by vows of forever-until his endless "business trips" left her aching and burning with unmet desire. One reckless night, she returned to Club Orion for a single pole dance. Just to feel alive again. A stranger in the shadows had other plans. What began as one lap dance exploded into a night of ruthless, relentless passion that left her utterly ruined for anyone else. She woke up wrecked, convinced it was a nameless one-night mistake she could bury and forget. Until the next morning's business lunch with Leon's best friend. She discovered she couldn't escape him-not when the stranger and Leon's best friend were the same man. And certainly not when he was the one demanding more nights... to cover up her "one little mistake." How long can Ava stay trapped between two ruthless billionaires before one claims her completely? And what if those nights were never about silence... but about breaking her so thoroughly she begs to stay?
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Chapter 5
Ava's POV
He laughed.
I wasn't some fake little laugh, but the the cruel kind that I wasn't ready for.
Julian just threw his head back and let it the laughter out, deep. The sound of his vicious laugh hit me in the chest, wrapped around my throat, and squeezed until I forgot how to breathe.
My legs gave out. I grabbed the arm of the leather chair just to stay on my feet. My nails dug in so hard that I felt the stitches pop under my fingers.
He wiped a tear from the corner of his eye, still grinning, and took another slow sip of whiskey. The sunlight caught the glass and threw little broken pieces of gold across his sharp cheekbones.
"My love," he said, voice warm and lazy, like we were old friends sharing a joke, "I knew the second you walked into that club."
My heart stopped. It actually stopped the moment. Why would he refer me as his love? I just met him. My heart started pounding so loud that I could hear it in my ears.
All the blood left my face. The room tilted sideways. I opened my mouth... closed it... opened it again. The only thing that came out was nothing but a cracked whisper. "You... you knew?"
He lifted the glass toward me like he was toasting me, eyes radiating brutality. "Of course I knew. Ava Vance. Leon's perfect little doll with the perfect ring and... you know- " He paused, glaring at my body. "Those sad, hungry eyes. You think I wouldn't know my best buddy's wife?"
My stomach flipped so hard I almost threw up right there.
Everything from last night slammed back into me. I knew something was off but I didn't pay attention that night. I couldn't.
Julian set the glass down. The soft clink sounded like a gun going off. He leaned back against his desk, arms folded, and jacket pulling tight over those shoulders that had held me against a wall only hours ago.
"You really thought I wouldn't recognize Leon's wife when she walked straight up to me in those killer heels and that tiny dress?" His tongue touched his lip, slow. "Come on, sweetheart. I saw those wedding photos. You looked insane in white. Almost as good as you looked in nothing."
Heat rushed to my face, and shame burning so hot I couldn't tell if I wanted to cry or scream. My hands shook at my sides.
"Why?" It ripped out of me, rough and broken. "Why the hell did you touch me if you knew?"
He shrugged like it was nothing. "You came to me, remember? Pushed that perfect body against mine, looked up with those big needy eyes, and asked, real sweet to be wrecked." His smile got sharper. "I'm not the guy who says no to a girl who's begging. Especially when she's my best friend's wife."
He was still smiling, loving every second of watching me fall apart.
I took a shaky step back. My heel caught the rug. I almost went down hard but caught myself on a chair, nails scratching the leather.
"I'm leaving," I said, voice cracking all over the place.
I turned, fingers fumbling for the door handle.
His voice followed me, smooth as silk, poisonous as hell.
"Page Six would eat this up," he said, casual, like he was reading the weather. "'Billionaire heiress Ava Vance caught in secret sex club.' Ohh! I can see it now. Those pretty bruises I left on your neck, the ones you tried to cover with makeup this morning. So damn artistic."
My hand froze on the handle. Ice poured through my veins.
I turned around slow.
He hadn't moved. Still leaning there, glass dangling from his fingers, and sunlight making him look like the devil on vacation.
"What do you want?" My voice came out tiny and broken.
He pushed off the desk and walked toward me, slow, every step loud in the quiet room. The air got thick with cedar, smoke, and the smell of last night still on his skin as it is on mine. My back hit the door. Nowhere else left to run.
He stopped so close that I could feel his heat, radiating off his body. I had to tilt my head back to look at him. His eyes were pure black, shining with winning.
"I'm giving you a choice," he said, low and dangerous. "Three courses. You show up to every single one to complete these courses. No excuses."
I blinked, panic and confusion crashing together in my head. "What the hell does that even mean? What the hell are you saying?"
He leaned in, lips brushing my ear, breath hot and slow. Goosebumps ran down my arms like fire.
"You're gonna pay for cheating, Ava," he whispered. "You're gonna be my personal little toy until I say we're done."
The words exploded in my head.
I jerked back, slammed against the door. "You're crazy."
He straightened, his smile getting wider. "Maybe. But you're the one who crawled into my bed. Begged me to choke you, and make you scream. Oh, and I have it all on video. Nice and clear. The sound is just perfect."
My stomach turned. I slapped a hand over my mouth so I wouldn't be sick.
"Leon will definitely kill you," I hissed through my fingers.
Julian didn't even blink. "Leon will kill you first, princess. You cheated on him. I'm just the guy you picked to do it with." He tilted his head, showing fake sympathy. "How do you think he'll feel watching his wife come so hard she cries? Hearing you beg a stranger to ruin you?"
I couldn't breathe. The walls closed in on me.
He stepped closer, caging me with one arm beside my head. His smell filled my lungs, cedar, whiskey, sex, and me.
"You say one word," he murmured, voice soft but hard as steel, "and I will be the end of you. I'll send everything. Photos. Videos. Audio. You sounded so pretty while begging, Ava. 'Please, harder. Don't stop.' Ring any bells?"
Tears burned. I blinked fast, but they fell anyway, hot down my cheeks.
"Or," he went on, thumb brushing my lip, smearing my lipstick, "you be a good girl. Keep quiet. Open those legs when I say. Your marriage stays safe. Your perfect life stays perfect. Leon never knows. It's a win-win."
I stared at him. Tears kept coming.
He smiled like the war was already over.
I grabbed my bag off the floor, hands shaking so bad I almost dropped it again.
"Go to hell!!" I spat, voice raw and ugly.
I yanked the door open and stumbled into the hallway. The air out here felt cold and thin. My heels echoed too loud on the marble as I ran for the elevator.
His voice floated after me, lazy and amused.
"See you tomorrow, Mrs. Vance."
The doors closed on my reflection: pale, shaking, mascara running, and lipstick wrecked.
And then it hit me, hard, like a wave crashing over my head.
If I'd just said yes when Bella who begged me to tag along to Paris with her...
If I'd stayed home like a good wife...
If I'd never walked into that damn club...
I pressed my fist to my mouth and bit down until I tasted blood.
God!!
If I'd just gone to Paris...
None of this would've happened.
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8.2
Warning: this book contains strong sexual content, smuts and explicit scenes and is strictly for readers over the age of 18.
Author pov: To my readers who are wondering if bikers men fuck as much as they ride--yes, they do. but these aren't super-heroes or the cute boy next door.They take.They claim and make you beg for more.
For years, Daisy endured the mistreatment from her husband who was the president of the fallen-saints MC but tragedy struck when he got into an accident and lost his life.But even in his death, her husband showed her how much he hated her, he left everything to the hands of his mistress and the secret son they had leaving her hopeless and penniless.
Broken by his hatred for her Daisy took his death as good fate and decided to start afresh, far away from the life she lived with him. but not until she ran into his rival Christian Blackwood.
Christian Blackwood is the President of the hell-hounds motorcycle club and the perfect definition of a devil in human clothing. He is known to be ruthless , cold and most importantly without emotions and her husband sworn enemy.
But somehow Daisy finds herself in the world of the man she was warned never to cross.
The man who suddenly lurks in her shadows and wants her all to himself.
Somehow she finds hers back in the world she vowed to run away from but this time it was just any world it was his world.
Feelings become obsessions and obsession burns into something unthinkable.
Rules are broken and rivalry's are heightened and not just that dark secrets are unveiled.

8.9
I returned to New York for my welcome-home party, expecting a warm embrace from Edwin, my devoted fiancé of twenty years.
Instead, his first words to me were a cold, public warning to stay away from his new girlfriend, Kacy.
He stood in my family's hotel, shielding a girl I had never even met, and painted me as a vicious, jealous bully.
"She is very sensitive, Kaitlyn. Her background is tough. Please, be gentle with her. Don't upset her."
He humiliated me in front of our entire elite circle, allowing them to mock me as the aggressive, discarded ex while he carried her away like a fragile princess.
For twenty years, I had been his loyal shadow, fixing his mistakes and loving him unconditionally.
I couldn't understand how decades of deep devotion could be instantly erased by a few crocodile tears and a manipulative damsel act.
He was absolutely certain I would throw a tantrum, cry, and eventually crawl back to beg for his attention.
But he was wrong.
He didn't know that Everett Rowe, a billionaire tech mogul, had been patiently waiting five years to marry me.
He also didn't know that during my three years abroad, I wasn't just studying art—I became "K.B.", the ruthless Wall Street predator who could swallow his family's empire whole.
I calmly pulled out my phone, ignored the mocking whispers around me, and typed a single message to Everett.
"Yes. I'll marry you."

7.9
Some cages are lined with silk. Some chains are dipped in gold. But they still hold you captive.
Nineteen-year-old Cassia Hale becomes the sixth bride of billionaire Killian Thorne, not out of love, but as payment for her father's gambling debts. One threat against her fifteen-year-old sister. One signature. And her life as she knew it is over.
Thrust into a mansion with five other wives, Cassia quickly learns she's different. Killian doesn't just want her, he's obsessed. She's the only one he intends to legally marry, the only one who can give him an heir, the only one who matters. But in a house where wives compete for survival and a mysterious fortune lies buried beneath the gardens, being the favorite makes her the biggest target.
Isla, the cunning queen bee, sees Cassia as an existential threat. Nessa, the jaded rebel, warns her to run while she can. Vera drowns in forbidden love with a servant. Mira watches everything with calculating eyes. And sweet, kind Thalia hides the most dangerous secrets of all.
When groundskeeper Dash offers Cassia escape and what seems like genuine love, she's torn between the monster who owns her and the man who might save her. But as drugged seductions, calculated betrayals, and murders disguised as accidents tear through the mansion, Cassia discovers the other wives aren't her only problem.
Someone is systematically eliminating the competition. Bodies are disappearing. Lies are unraveling. And Killian's dark empire, built on weapons dealing and blood money is more dangerous than she ever imagined.
As Cassia falls pregnant and the mansion descends into chaos, she must navigate deadly games where jealousy kills and trust is fatal. One by one, the other wives fall, exposed, destroyed by their own schemes, until only one question remains:
Will Cassia become another casualty? Or will she claim her crown as the only woman fierce enough to stand beside a monster and transform him into a king?
From captive to queen. From six brides to one. This is the story of how Cassia Hale became Mrs. Thorne and survived to rule his empire.
A dark, intensely erotic romance about power, obsession, and choosing love with your eyes wide open.
⚠️ Trigger Warnings:
Forced Marriage/Captivity
Dubious Consent (initial encounters)
Sexual Content (explicit, intense)
Violence
Emotional Manipulation
Power Imbalance (age gap, wealth gap, power gap)
Threats to Family Members (Lila)
Dark Themes (obsession, possession, control)
Death (side characters)
Psychological Intensity
Potentially Triggering Romance Dynamic

9.6
Antoinette stood on the manicured church lawn, the blinding summer sun stabbing her eyes. The funeral service for her parents had just ended.
A hand wrapped around her trembling shoulder, carrying the sharp, cloying scent of Fabian Cash's cologne. It was the exact same cologne her fiancé wore the night he locked her in a burning house to die in her previous life.
Now, wearing a mask of sorrowful devotion, Fabian tried to drag her to his car to control her parents' massive life insurance payout.
When she shoved him away in pure nausea, his mother Eleanor immediately shrieked to the crowd, deploying her usual guilt trip.
"She's lost her mind! The girl has completely snapped!"
The townspeople whispered and pointed fingers, watching Fabian play the victim as he tightened his bruising grip on her wrist, claiming she was hysterical and needed to be locked away.
Antoinette stared at the mother and son who had conspired to steal her family's estate and end her life. The rage inside her felt like battery acid pumping through her veins.
They didn't care if she lived or died; they only cared about the money. How could she let them strip her of everything again?
She didn't hesitate. She swung with every bit of strength she possessed, slapping Fabian across the face in front of the entire town.
"The engagement is over," she announced coldly.
Then, she turned her back on her greedy ex-fiancé and walked straight toward the terrifyingly powerful billionaire Hiram Graves, ready to let the world burn.

7.7
For three months, I played the part of the perfect girlfriend for billionaire heir Ansel Schultz. I was the obedient, low-maintenance girl from a middle-class zip code, the one who never asked where he was or demanded expensive gifts.
Then, standing in the shadows of a hallway, I heard the truth from his own lips.
He told his friends I was nothing more than a "convenience," a "pressure valve for his schedule." Our entire relationship was just a "pure romance movie with a time limit," set to end the moment his real fiancée, the heiress Isela Lamb, arrived in New York.
One of them cornered me outside the door, hissing in my ear.
"The carriage is turning back into a pumpkin, Cinderella. Pack your bags and get out."
They were all waiting for the show. They expected me to break down, to run away crying and become the joke of the city. They thought a girl like me would cling to him like a vine, begging for a fairy tale that was never real.
But an anthropologist doesn't cry when the monkeys throw mud at her.
I pushed open the heavy door, walked straight to his table under the shocked stares of his friends, and looked him in the eye.
"I heard the part about the limited-time romance movie," I said with a smile. "When it ends, can you make sure that recommendation letter includes an introduction to the head of Strategic Investment at the Schultz Group? I need an interview for my summer internship."

8.1
Elise Stanton has one dream: to study medicine. When she earns a coveted spot in medical school, her future seems bright-until her parents present her with an ultimatum.
The only way they'll pay her tuition is if she marries Alejandro Mendoza, the disabled heir to a powerful family.
"Marry a stranger for money? Is that the price of my freedom?" Elise protests, her voice trembling with frustration. "Clara gets her luxuries handed to her, but I have to sell my life to pursue my dream?"
In her family's eyes, she is always second-best, a shadow to her younger sister, Clara. Left with no other choice, Elise agrees to her parents' condition.
Then she meets Alejandro Mendoza.
Confined to a wheelchair, Alejandro is bitter and guarded, his piercing gaze a wall against the world. But when Elise examines his condition, her sharp medical instincts kick in.
"The doctors had a wrong diagnosis," she insists. "Your condition is reversible."
Alejandro narrows his eyes. "Why are you doing this? What do you want?"
Her answer is simple: "I'll help you recover, and when you can walk again, this marriage ends."