Sexy Behind The Mask
She hides behind ugly suits and fake names. He's done trusting women. When they meet in a masked sex club, neither realizes they've been fighting each other across boardroom tables for eighteen months. At Taylor Industries, she's Joy Smith-the frumpy CFO who drowns her curves in shapeless polyester and wearing a wig. At home, she's the forgotten wife of a cheating lawyer who hasn't touched her in so long she's starting to wonder if she's broken. When she finds hot pink lace panties stuffed in her couch cushions...definitely not hers, it's not heartbreak she feels. It's freedom. Grayson Taylor doesn't do relationships anymore. Not after walking in on his actress fiancée with another woman. Now he channels everything into hostile takeovers and board meetings, especially the ones where his overcautious CFO fights him on every goddamn acquisition. Joy Smith is brilliant, infuriating, and funny when he pushes all her buttons. But Honey is tired of being invisible. Tired of never having felt real pleasure. So, when her best friend gives her the details of The Velvet Room-Manhattan's most exclusive masked club-she promises herself just one night. One night to find out if her husband's right, if she really is frigid, or if she's just never been touched by the right hands. She doesn't expect the masked stranger who claims her the second she walks in. Doesn't expect the chemistry that ignites between them, the way he makes her body sing, or the orgasms that leave her shaking. Doesn't expect him to hand her an email address with one command: "Only me. No one else touches you."
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Chapter 1
Thursday, October 5th
Grayson knew he should have been in Boston by now, and yet, there he was, standing in front of his Upper West Side brownstone, a victim of the changeable New York weather. Hail had pummeled the tarmac, which in turn had dismissed all hope of air travel, and sent him home for the night. He had rebooked a flight early tomorrow morning with enough time he needed to arrive for the meeting in Boston... Just
In turn, it gave him an opportunity to surprise Morgan.
Glancing down the street at the brownstones, this was a great place to raise kids, and when he had slipped the engagement ring on Morgan's finger six months ago, she had agreed to move in and have their family here someday.
Using his key, he let himself in, soft jazz drifted through the hallway to greet him. Grayson dropped his briefcase by the door, loosened his tie. He considered calling out, announcing his arrival, but paused when he heard laughter coming from the master bedroom. Two women. Morgan and... someone else. Disappointed that they wouldn't have the evening to themselves, but he really couldn't complain. He hadn't planned to be here. If Morgan had invited a friend over to keep her company that was fine by him.
Grayson smiled. More laughter echoed down the hall, followed by whispers he couldn't quite make out. He hung his coat on the rack, figuring he'd grab a drink before interrupting their girl talk. Heading into the lounge to grab a whiskey before seeing what Morgan was up to. Knowing his luck, they were going through Morgan's wardrobe and there would be a mountain of clothing laying over their bed.
The laughter grew louder as he approached the bedroom. Giggles. Hushed words. A sound that might have been a moan. He stopped, hand hovering over the doorknob.
A voice that wasn't Morgan's said, "Baby just like that."
Morgan responded with a sound Grayson recognized all too well. Pleasure.
His stomach dropped. The hairs on his arms stood up. A cold feeling spread through his chest. He knew before touching the door what he was about to walk in on.
But he pushed open the door anyway. He couldn't hide from the knowledge. He needed to face it and them head on. Just like he handled business.
But he wasn't quite ready for the sight that greeted him.
Morgan lay sprawled across their king-size bed, naked, her blonde hair fanned out across his pillow. On top of her was a brunette woman, equally naked, the fingers of one hand tangled in Morgan's hair, he couldn't see where her other hand was, but he could guess.
Time stopped. The world tilted on its axis as Grayson stood frozen in the doorway, unable to process what he was seeing. He'd known-sure-even prepared himself for it-but seeing it was something else.
Then Morgan looked up as if sensing him, her eyes widening with shock.
"Grayson!" She scrambled out from under the other woman, grabbing for the sheet. "You're supposed to be in Boston!"
The brunette sat up, making no effort to cover herself, a smirk playing at her lips.
Grayson recognized her. Tina. His sister Emma's friend. The one he'd meet at his sister's engagement party.
"Flight got canceled." His voice sounded distant, like it belonged to someone else. "Hail."
Morgan pulled the sheet up to her chin. "Baby, I can explain."
Tina laughed, a short, sharp sound. "Can you really?"
Grayson stepped into the room. The jazz still played from the stereo system in the corner of the room, which explained why they hadn't heard him come in. He hadn't tried to be quiet, because he hadn't realized what she had been hiding from him. That thought made him ask his next question.
"How long?" His voice was steady. Calmer than he felt.
Morgan looked at Tina, then back at him. "It's not what you think."
"How. Long." Each word clipped, precise.
"It's nothing serious, just-"
"Answer the question, Morgan." His hands balled into fists at his sides.
She looked down at the rumpled sheets. "Soon after Emma's engagement party."
Eight months. Eight months of lies. The engagement party. The day Morgan had met Tina as well. They must have started up within days of meeting each other. Then two months later he had proposed to her, and she had said yes while fucking a woman on the side.
"Eight months," he repeated the words, testing their weight. "Let's get this straight you've been fucking my sister's friend for eight months."
"Don't be crude." Morgan reached for a silk robe hanging off the bedpost. "It's just physical. It doesn't mean anything."
Tina stretched, catlike and unconcerned. "Don't sell yourself short, Morgan. It means something to me." Clearly unconcerned about being caught out. He had never liked Tina. But he could not tell his younger sister who her friends should be. Emma was twenty-seven after all.
Grayson ran a hand through his hair. Eight months. Their entire engagement. A lie. Not just their engagement but their whole relationship.
"You brought her into our bed." Not just that but their lives.
Morgan slipped into the robe, tying it at the waist. "You're making too big a deal out of this. It's just sex."
"In our bed." He felt like throwing up. He would burn the bed before he slept in this room again.
"Why not?" Tina asked, finally reaching for her clothes scattered across the floor. "Morgan said you'd be gone until tomorrow."
Grayson didn't look her way. She did not seem to care that she was standing in front of him naked. The woman had shown no shame.
The casualness of their betrayal struck him like a physical blow. They'd planned this. Waited for him to leave. How many other times had this happened? Had they laughed that he was a fool.
"Get out." He directed the words at Tina.
She raised an eyebrow. "Excuse me?"
"Get the fuck out of my house."
Morgan approached him with her hands raised in a placating gesture. "Really, Grayson, I just don't understand why you are so upset. Let's talk about this like adults."
"Like adults?" He laughed, the sound hollow. "You've been cheating on me for eight months, and you want to talk like adults?"
"It's not cheating." Morgan placed a hand on his chest. "Not really. Tina is a woman not a man."
Grayson's stepped away from her hand as his eyes widened, he realized she didn't understand cheating was cheating; it didn't matter the sex of the other person. Was she truly that stupid, or did she have the morals of an alley cat? This was not someone he wanted raising his kids let alone in his life.
If he thought he was in shock before, her next words made everything even worse.
"We could invite you to join us sometime. You might like it. Isn't it every man's dream to have two women at once."
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9.0
He drew her before he ever met her.
She dreams of him every night... without knowing who he is.
Nora is a brilliant editor in a prestigious journalism company - confident, successful... and completely unaware of her past. But night after night, she dreams of a mysterious warrior prince in a realm that feels far too real. When Edward, the enigmatic new CEO of her branch, walks into her life, her world starts to unravel. He's the son of the company's owner, and though they've never met, he's been drawing her face for years.
As their connection deepens, strange events begin to blur the line between reality and fantasy. What neither of them knows is that their souls are bound - not just in this life, but in another.
In a parallel world, Leela is a fearless warrior and spy, sworn to protect her people. Jing, the prince of a war-torn kingdom, trusts her with his life... but must never love her. Their bond is dangerous. Forbidden. And yet, undeniable.
Two women. Two men.
Two worlds on the brink of war... and love that defies fate.
When destiny calls across dimensions, will they choose duty - or the one their soul remembers?
7.1
Aria Graves was the perfect Luna.
After seven years of a marriage built on lies, She didn't break when the truth surfaced-she burned. Her revenge was clean and her rejection final.
But fate wasn't done with her.
To protect his own secrets, her father used her mother's life as leverage and forced Aria to take her sister's place, sending her to the Silverfang Pack as a living offering to their ruthless Alpha King, Damien Rothwell.
Cold, commanding, and scarred by war, Damien should have killed her. Instead, he claimed her.
Yet the King is not the only one who wants her.
His half-brother, Ethan Rothwell, once the blind boy Aria taught to read, now returns a man who sees her more clearly than anyone else.
Now Aria stands between two brothers-one bound by duty, the other by love.
In a world where loyalty bleeds and desire burns, she must choose: the Alpha King who could ruin her, or the brother who would burn the world to save her.
8.2
For three years, nineteen-year-old Ella Campbell rotted in a freezing psychiatric isolation room.
Her billionaire family didn't visit her once, only pulling her out today to force her to publicly apologize to Ashlyn, the perfect sister who had framed her.
At Ashlyn's glamorous engagement gala, Ella was treated worse than a stray dog and forced to watch her childhood sweetheart propose to her sister.
When Ella showed no jealousy, her brother Ivan dragged her onto a dark balcony and nearly choked her to death.
Her mother didn't even check if Ella was breathing, merely ordering a makeup artist to paint thick concealer over the dark purple handprints on Ella's neck so the family's stock price wouldn't drop.
Standing under the blinding stage lights in a shapeless gray dress, facing three hundred mocking Wall Street executives, Ella was supposed to be the broken, obedient psycho the Campbells needed.
"I am deeply sorry for the pain I caused."
She was supposed to end the apology there and bow to her abusers, but Ella didn't shed a single tear.
"My only regret is that I didn't insist on waiting for the police to arrive that night. I deeply regret that I didn't demand a full, legal toxicology report to prove to everyone exactly what happened."
As the ballroom erupted into suspicious whispers and her paralyzed twin brother finally saw the violent bruises hidden beneath her makeup, Ella's counterattack against the Campbell family officially began.
8.3
I woke up in a bedroom that screamed old money, but the body I occupied felt sluggish and fragile. I was now Chris Olson, a man known as a pathetic failure who spent his marriage groveling at his wife's feet for a single look of approval.
Elizabeth didn't even wait for me to clear my head before she threw the divorce papers on the nightstand. She stood there in her silk robe, eyes cold as ice, demanding I sign them before breakfast so she could finally go public with her "White Moonlight," Greg.
"You're walking away with nothing," she snapped, her voice full of the disgust she'd harbored for years. She reminded me that my family had disowned me and that I'd be on the streets within a week without her charity.
As I sat up, a metallic, garlic-like scent on my breath confirmed a terrifying truth: the Olson family hadn't just disowned me; they had been micro-dosing me with arsenic for years. They wanted me weak and mentally unstable so they could split the inheritance without a fight.
The original Chris would have cried and begged for her to stay, but I just looked at her like she was a target. I realized then that my "loving" family and my "faithful" wife had been watching me die in slow motion, and neither of them had lifted a finger to stop it.
I signed the papers without reading a single line and walked out with nothing but a duffel bag and a rusted sedan. I didn't need her alimony; I had already called her greatest rival, Adelia Cherry, to discuss a merger that would rock the city.
"I'm not here to save this marriage," I told Elizabeth as I moved into the mansion right next door to hers. "I'm here to bury it, along with everyone who thought they could poison me and get away with it."
9.7
No matter how far I ran, no matter how deep I hid, I knew one truth... He would always find me.
Knock. Knock.
I jolted up from my sitting position, with my heart hammering in my chest.
Just as I was saying... He had already found me.
But by the time he broke down the rickety door, I was already standing and facing him with a knife to my wrist.
I'd rather die than return home with him as his mate.
***
TRIGGER WARNING!
This is a dark, taboo romance containing graphic themes, possessive men, hate-fueled sex, psychological intensity, emotional torment, and taboo that will wreck your morals. Reader discretion is strongly advised. Read only if you're ready to fall for monsters.
***
Eve thought she and her mother had successfully escaped her abusive father by getting married to the former Alpha of a pack far away from where they used to live.
But all her hopes and expectations were cut short the moment she realized her new stepbrother, Alpha Saint, who was also the current Alpha of her new pack, was the same man she had a one-night stand with eight months ago, along with his best friend, Beta Kyrie. And on that fateful night, she had stolen very valuable items from these men.
Hated and controlled by her stepbrother, Saint, who saw her as nothing but a thieving whore, Eve decided to find solace in Kyrie, who was already falling madly in love with her. But Saint would rather fight his best friend to the death than let him anywhere close to the woman he was secretly obsessed with from the day he set eyes on her – Eve.
All hell was let loose when Eve turned twenty-one and found out that not only was she mated to the man she loved and desired – Kyrie. She was also mated to her overly possessive stepbrother, whom she dreaded with her life.
Saint burns with obsession. Kyrie aches with desire. And both men aren't willing to share.
How far can she run? And how much blood are they willing to shed, just to stake their individual claim on her?
9.6
I stood in the ballroom of the Pierre Hotel, holding a champagne flute that felt like a fragile anchor against a rising tide of anxiety.
Across the room, the crowd of New York's elite parted as my fiancé, Campbell Brock, stepped onto the stage to announce a historic merger-and a shocking engagement to someone else.
"I am proud to announce my engagement to Kandice Rose," he said, pulling the "real" daughter of the family into his arms while looking right through me as if I were a ghost. I dropped my glass, the crystal shattering at my feet, but the public humiliation was only the beginning. By the next morning, I was a viral meme dubbed the "Meltdown Girl," and the American Ballet Theatre had suspended me from my position as principal dancer for "moral turpitude." My bank accounts were frozen, my reputation was in tatters, and Kandice was on a livestream tearfully claiming I was a jealous foster girl who had tried to seduce Campbell behind her back.
I had spent four years building a life with this man, only to be discarded like a piece of old wallpaper the moment a better business deal came along.
How could the man who promised me a future turn me into a national joke overnight, and why was the world so eager to believe I was the villain in my own tragedy?
When my high school best friend, the notorious billionaire playboy Charlton Bernard, found me drinking tequila in a dive bar, he didn't offer me a shoulder to cry on. He slid a marriage contract across the table and pressed a black titanium credit card into my hand.
"Marry me for a year, Daphne," he said, his eyes burning with a dark, protective intensity that made my heart race. "We'll join their reality show as newlyweds and show the world exactly who the real winner is."
I looked at the card, then at the man who had always been my shadow, and realized that being sensible had only gotten me dumped on a stage.
"Let's go get married."