Out Of Your League: The Lethal Ex-Wife
Erica Murphy had spent three years rotting in a freezing prison cell.
She thought she was serving time for a tragic accident, but the truth was much darker. Her husband, Colten, had framed her for his mistress's drunk hit-and-run, stolen her fortune, and left her to take the fall.
The day Erica was finally released, a speeding car intentionally slammed into her, shattering her spine. As she lay dying on the emergency room table, flatlining on the monitor, Colten and his pregnant mistress didn't come to save her. Instead, they tossed a stack of divorce papers onto her bloody hospital blanket. They wanted her to sign away her last remaining shares and take on thirty million dollars of toxic corporate debt.
"Sign it," Colten demanded coldly, looking at her crushed body with utter disgust. "Consider this the last bit of dignity I'm giving you."
The original Erica died right there, suffocating in despair and betrayal, unable to understand how the man she loved could be so monstrous.
But when the flatline on the monitor suddenly spiked and her eyes snapped open, the traumatized victim was gone.
Replaced by the cold, calculating consciousness of a future special ops commander. With microscopic nanobots rapidly fusing her shattered bones together, Erica picked up the pen, preparing to burn Colten's entire empire to ashes.
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Chapter 4
Erica stepped out of the ICU.
She wore a hospital gown that was three sizes too big, the thin cotton doing nothing to block the chill of the air conditioning. Her bare feet slapped against the freezing marble floor. With every step she took, the ORACLE System fired micro-electrical pulses into her leg muscles, deadening the residual pain from her shattered bones.
She walked to the VIP elevator bank. She pressed the down button. The red numbers above the metal doors slowly ticked downward.
Ding.
The stainless steel doors slid open.
Erica stopped. Standing dead center in the elevator car was Ebert Chase.
He was just slipping his sleek smartphone into the inner pocket of his suit jacket, having finished a call. He looked up. For a fraction of a second, genuine surprise flickered in his dark eyes when he saw her standing there, bleeding and barefoot.
Erica didn't hesitate. Her face remained a mask of absolute indifference. She stepped into the elevator, completely ignoring his presence, and hit the button for the ground floor.
The doors slid shut.
The elevator car was small. The air instantly thickened. The rich, heavy scent of Ebert's cedar cologne clashed violently with the sharp, metallic smell of Erica's fresh blood.
Ebert's gaze slowly dragged down her body. He looked at the blood dripping from the torn IV site on her hand. He looked at her pale, bare feet pressed against the floor.
He let out a low, amused breath. He adjusted his cuffs.
"Got your payout and running away already?" Ebert asked, his voice a lazy, arrogant drawl that filled the tight space. "You didn't even stop to put on shoes."
Erica kept her eyes locked on the floor indicator lights.
"It's called a tactical retreat, not running away," Erica replied, her voice flat and cold. "Your vocabulary is severely lacking, Mr. Chase."
Ebert chuckled. It was a dark, rumbling sound in his chest. He was surrounded by women who hung on his every word. This feral, bleeding creature who snapped back at him was entirely new.
Suddenly, the elevator violently jerked.
The overhead lights flickered and died for a split second as the hospital's backup generators kicked in.
The sudden loss of inertia threw Erica off balance. Her newly fused spine couldn't compensate fast enough. She stumbled sideways.
Ebert reacted instantly. His arm shot out. His large, warm hand wrapped firmly around her waist, catching her before she hit the wall.
Through the thin fabric of the gown, Ebert felt her muscles. They didn't yield. The second his hand touched her, her waist locked up like a slab of solid iron. There was absolutely nothing soft about her.
In the exact moment she regained her center of gravity, Erica's right hand blurred.
She flattened her fingers into a rigid blade. She drove it straight up, pressing the hard edge of her hand directly against Ebert's carotid artery.
They were inches apart. Their breath mingled in the dim light.
Ebert looked down at the hand pressed against his throat. His heart rate didn't spike. Instead, a dark, predatory fire ignited in his eyes. He didn't let go of her waist. He actually pulled her a fraction of an inch closer.
"In Manhattan," Ebert whispered, his voice dangerously soft, "anyone who puts their hand on my throat ends up at the bottom of the Hudson River."
Erica didn't blink. She stared right back into his aggressive eyes. The corner of her mouth twitched upward.
"Maybe today you'll be the first exception," she hissed.
Warning. Target extremely hostile. Recommend immediate distance. The system flashed red across her retinas.
The elevator lights snapped back on. The car resumed its smooth descent.
Erica shoved her hand against his chest, breaking his grip. She stepped back, pressing her shoulders into the opposite corner of the elevator.
Ebert casually smoothed the front of his suit jacket. He looked at her, clearly savoring the adrenaline of the physical contact.
"I can offer you top-tier security and unlimited resources," Ebert said, his tone shifting to pure business. "I can help you crush Colten. But you work for me. You become my blade."
Erica looked at him like he was an idiot.
"I don't need protection," she stated, her voice dripping with venom. "And I'm not trading one cage for another cage with your name on it. Keep your Wall Street balance sheets away from me, or I'll tear you apart too."
The elevator chimed. The ground floor button lit up.
The doors slid open to the bustling hospital lobby.
Erica walked out without looking back.
Ebert stood in the elevator. He watched her bare feet disappear into the crowd. The smirk on his face deepened into a genuine smile. He tapped the earpiece hidden in his ear.
"Put a twenty-four-hour surveillance team on her," Ebert ordered. "Every move."
Erica felt the heavy weight of his stare on her back the second she stepped out. She knew she had just caught the attention of a much bigger, much deadlier wolf.
She walked toward the lobby seating area, scanning for a device connected to the internet.
Then, she stopped. Through the glass doors, she spotted two very familiar faces.
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8.5
Warning! 18 and above, contains explicit sexual content to invade your lustful desires.
This is unfiltered, it is forbidden, it's stories that will keep you up at night.
******************
"Ever had sex before?" he asks as he begins to take off his pants. There's a huge bulge in his boxer already.
"Ye..yes," I stutter. He closes the distance between us and grabs my right boob in his palm.
"Good, cause i'm going to fuck your little cunt till you beg me to stop." I clench my thighs to ease the ache building up down there.
"Bend over, princess."
*************************
This collection of erotica contains BDSM, REVERSE HAREM, SEXUAL TERMS YOU DIDN'T KNOW EVEN EXISTED.
YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED
This is a collection of every lustful desires you've ever had. Grab a wine and a pleasure toy, YOU WILL NEED IT!
9.0
My ex-husband returned after a three-year bet, ready to reclaim me and the son he thought was his. He had no idea that I'd secretly aborted his child, divorced him, and remarried the day he left. His world was about to come crashing down.
His delusion turned deadly when he and his manipulative best friend, Haylee, kidnapped my son, Leo.
I found them at his family's mansion, with Leo suffocating from a severe allergic reaction to a dog they were forcing him to play with. Elliot physically restrained me, scolding me for overreacting while Haylee giggled as my son turned blue.
At the hospital, as Leo fought for his life, Elliot grabbed my arm, demanding to know who the man standing beside me was. He was convinced this was all a game to make him jealous.
That's when my real husband, billionaire Gregory Morton, stepped forward.
"Since when is this child yours, Elliot?"
8.3
He wants to save her. She wants to hide.
She's damaged. He's determined.
Fate brought them together. Love binds them.
Johnny Kavanagh is the definition of popular. He is an all-star rugby player with loads of friends, which means he should be enjoying the many perks of his life. But what people don't know is that he has been dealing with a painful injury that could halt the magnificent trajectory of his career. This means he has no time for distractions or mistakes. Especially not a girlfriend.
Shannon Lynch has been bullied all her life. She is shy and would rather hide herself away to make it through school. But when she arrives at Tommen College for a fresh start, she meets the notorious Johnny Kavanagh on her first day in a not-so-romantic way. What follows is a complicated friendship that turns into undeniable chemistry. It seems that Shannon won't be able to hold onto the anonymous status she once hoped for. But maybe that's alright?
Johnny won't give up on Shannon. No matter what it might cost them both.
7.6
My father raised seven brilliant orphans to be my potential husbands. For years, I only had eyes for one of them, the cold and distant Damien Paul, believing his distance was a wall I just had to break through.
That belief shattered last night when I found him in the garden, kissing his foster sister, Eve—the fragile girl my family took in at his request, the one I had treated like my own sister.
But the true horror came when I overheard the other six Fellows talking in the library.
They weren't competing for me. They were working together, orchestrating "accidents" and mocking my "stupid, blind" devotion to keep me away from Damien.
Their loyalty wasn't to me, the heiress who held their futures in her hands. It was to Eve.
I wasn't a woman to be won. I was a foolish burden to be managed. The seven men I grew up with, the men who owed my family everything, were a cult, and she was their queen.
This morning, I walked into my father's study to make a decision that would burn their world to the ground. He smiled, asking if I'd finally won Damien over.
"No, Dad," I said, my voice firm. "I'm marrying Hunter Beach."
8.0
After divorcing my cheating husband, I thought I had found my savior in his powerful business partner, Cole.
For three years, he pampered me like a queen, building a perfect, golden cage of devotion.
But on the day I happily discovered I was pregnant, I overheard him talking to my ex-husband's mistress.
"Elinor is just a convenient tool. If she gets pregnant, I'll fake a paternity test and annul the marriage so she leaves with nothing."
My entire marriage was a meticulously crafted lie to secure his position and protect the woman he truly cared about.
Before I could quietly escape, Cole orchestrated a brutal attack.
I was dragged into a dark alley, beaten until my ribs fractured, and my unborn child was violently ripped away from me.
As I lay bleeding out in the freezing rain, my heart shattered into dust.
I didn't understand how the man who kissed me every morning could coldly order his thugs to beat me to death just to appease his real lover.
They left me there to rot, thinking they had finally erased the naive fool who got in their way.
Three years later, the world still believes Elinor Marsh died in a tragic car accident.
But when Cole and his elite circle attend a high-profile Interpol reception, they don't expect the new Chief Liaison Officer to step onto the stage.
I am Helena Fu now, and I have returned to burn their empire to the ground.
7.8
Evelyn was already suffocating under her family's impending bankruptcy when she rear-ended a ten-million-dollar Rolls Royce in the freezing rain.
The tinted window rolled down, revealing the cold, predatory face of Julian Hawthorne—the man she had brutally abandoned three years ago.
Now a ruthless billionaire, he demanded a seven-figure repair check she couldn't afford, or she would have to pay with her body.
Desperate, she went to her wealthy fiancé, Preston, for the money, only to find him in a VIP club with another woman straddling his lap.
Instead of helping, Preston threw the repair bill on the floor and laughed with his rich friends.
"You want the money? Fine. Get on your knees, crawl over here, and kiss the tip of my shoe in front of everyone."
Evelyn trembled with pure humiliation.
Three years ago, she had sacrificed the only man she truly loved to save her family from ruin, only to end up engaged to this pathetic, cheating scum.
Just as her knees bent toward the carpet, the heavy velvet door was kicked completely off its hinges.
Julian walked in like the grim reaper, beat Preston half to death, and dragged Evelyn away.
He pinned her in his car, threatening to destroy everyone she cared about if she didn't return to him.
Evelyn was terrified and confused. Why was this powerful tyrant going to such extreme, violent lengths to trap a woman who had thrown him away?
The answer slipped out through an accidental phone call: the cold-blooded CEO had spent the previous night drunk, crying and screaming her name.
Realizing the monster caging her was actually just a desperate, heartbroken man, Evelyn wiped her tears and made a decision.
She was going to break her engagement, walk into his corporate fortress, and finally face the terrifying debt of their past.