Sinful Addiction
HOLY SHIT! My father's best friend had his face buried in between my legs.
I threw my head back against the headrest, fisting his hair in my palms but it only urged him to go faster.
His breath was warm against my clit and just when I thought I couldn't get enough, he hummed, the vibration sending intense waves of pleasure through me.
"Oh my God," this was so wrong yet my body betrayed me, leaning closer into his touch.
~~
Diane Ashford thought four years in Paris had killed the forbidden feelings she had for Damon Pierce. But returning to New York brings the past rushing back. Damon is her father's best friend, her protector, and the man who makes every part of her body ache for him.
Now working as his assistant, Diane must face desire, secrets, and family lies that could destroy them. Damon is powerful, possessive, and impossible to resist.
Can their forbidden love survive the truth or will it ruin them both?
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Chapter 3
DIANE
I must've been staring too obviously because his voice cut through my thoughts.
"Sure you're okay?" He glanced at me for a second before shifting his gaze back to the road ahead.
"Yes I am," I rushed out, hating how unsure the words sounded. "Just jet lag," I lied.
He squinted his eyes at me as if he could see through my facade. I slipped my fingertips between the seatbelt fastened around me, fisting them in my palms. Just anything to distract me from the fact that I was alone in this car with him.
We drove in silence, the only sounds coming from the soft music playing through his Bluetooth and the honking of cars outside.
I stared out through the window. New York was just as I remembered it. Busy roads, people going about their daily lives and the annoying traffic. But still, it was home.
A phone vibrated beside me, cutting through my thoughts. I turned at the sound. It was coming from his jacket.
I tried to reach for the phone but at the same time, he reached for it as well, his large palms on my smaller ones. I felt a chilling sensation at the contact. For a second, neither of us moved.
"Um...I was just trying to get your phone for you," I explained.
He lifted his hand from mine and nodded.
I pulled out the phone, but before I could hand it over to him, I caught sight of the caller ID. I instantly felt the color drain from my face. My chest felt tight like I couldn't get enough air no matter how hard I tried.
The name 'Kara' with a red heart emoji lit up the screen. It felt like someone had punched all the air right out of my lungs.
Who was Kara?
I didn't realize I had been staring at the screen for way too long until the call ended. In the second that followed, the phone started to ring again and the same name popped up.
Damon reached and took the phone from my hands, disconnecting the Bluetooth before pressing the phone to his ear.
"Kara," he breathed, his smile wide and genuine. My insides churned, my eyes stung as a feminine voice said something on the other line although I couldn't make out what she said.
"Yes Kara. We're still on for this weekend. I'll come see you," he replied to whatever the person on the other end of the line said, the smile never leaving his face.
That smile that could make any girl go weak in her knees. I'd always wanted to be the reason he smiled like that, but now it was directed at someone else, leaving me deeply hurt.
I knew this was crazy. I knew it'd be insane to say I felt heartbroken when we were never in a relationship to begin with, but that's exactly how I felt.
"Roses? Yes I sent them. Do you like them?" He asked, running his hands through his hair. She made him nervous? And he sent her flowers?
I couldn't tear my gaze from him. I watched his every action, how his smile reached his eyes, how he seemed so carefree and comfortable with whoever he was speaking to.
His girlfriend perhaps? Was she young?
Just the thought of him belonging to someone else shattered my heart into a thousand pieces.
I held back the tears that threatened to spill. I shouldn't be acting this way. I needed to make whatever this forbidden attraction I had to him go away.
Distance couldn't help me get rid of this. Four years away from him and nothing had changed. I was still pathetically in love with a man I could never have.
I blocked out the sound of their conversation, looking out through the windows till the roads began to get familiar.
The sun was about to set, casting an orange glow over the horizon. It was an incredible sight to behold.
I saw the house I grew up in come into view and a genuine smile replaced the fake one I'd been wearing.
The car came to a stop at the driveway. He ended the call and I felt his eyes on me.
"Sorry about that," he said, his voice different now compared to the warmth they were filled with when he spoke to whoever that was.
I forced a smile, fighting the urge to ask him who that was. "No problem."
"Welcome back home," his voice was warm but there was something else underneath. Something I couldn't quite place.
I unbuckled my seatbelt, my fingers fumbling with the mechanism. I needed to get out of this car. Away from him. Away from the cologne that now felt suffocating. Away from the reminder that I was a fool for ever thinking we could be something.
"Diane." I froze, my hand on the door handle.
"Thank you, Uncle Damon. For picking me up," I managed, not meeting his eyes.
Before he could respond, I pushed the door open and stepped out into the cool evening air, finally able to breathe.
He came down as well, helping me bring out my luggage.
"I can take it from here," I said, reaching for the handle of the luggage.
"Are you sure about that?" He raised his brow.
I barely had my emotions in check right now and each second I stayed with him after the phone call I just heard made me feel like a fool.
"Yes, Uncle Damon."
He didn't look convinced, but he let me take the luggage from him.
"Your father will be back tonight. I can wait for you to freshen up so we can go get dinner if-"
"I'm not hungry," I cut him off, my voice sounding harsh and I instantly hated myself for using that tone on him.
He was just trying to be nice and look after me but here I was acting like a brat.
"I'm sorry uncle Damon," I apologized. "I'm just so exhausted."
He nodded and I took that as my cue to drag my luggage into the house. I could still feel his eyes on me till I got to the door and inputted the pass code.
It was past six by now and I knew the maids would have been gone. I was glad to be alone right now.
I went up the stairs into my room. Everything was still as I left it. I abandoned the luggage by the door, plopping down on the soft mattress, the exhaustion finally kicking in.
I reached towards the bedside table, slipping my hand behind the small space between the table and the wall to reach for something.
I pulled it out and stared at it. It was a picture of me and Damon during my high school graduation. He stared at me with a wide smile on his face with his hands wrapped around my shoulder while I stared straight at the camera.
Back then, I'd thought that look in his eyes meant something, that perhaps he felt something for me. But I was mistaken.
I hugged the picture to my chest, laying back on the bed.
My eyes began to feel heavy.
'Roses? Yeah I sent them' his voice replayed in my head as I let a lone tear slip before exhaustion pulled me into a deep slumber.
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8.5
After four years of marriage, my wealthy husband Brad handed me a $50,000 severance check outside the Manhattan Family Court.
He linked arms with his mistress, Jenna, who flaunted the diamond ring that used to be mine.
"Just take it, Hayley. Take the money and get out of our lives," he sneered, looking at me with absolute disgust.
I tore the check into pieces, but my nightmare was just beginning.
To access my grandfather's trust fund, I had exactly seventy-two hours to get legally married, so I desperately proposed a one-year contract marriage to a poor insurance salesman I met in a dive bar.
When Brad found out, he and his arrogant family cornered me at their estate.
Brad mocked my new husband for being a penniless, money-grubbing parasite, while my former mother-in-law slapped me hard across the face, knocking me to the ground.
"You are trash, just like your mother," she spat, watching my knee bleed onto the sharp gravel.
Jenna gleefully kicked my phone away, shattering the screen and cutting off my only lifeline.
Lying there in the dirt, I stared at the broken glass in absolute despair.
I didn't understand why four years of quiet devotion had earned me nothing but cruel betrayal and endless humiliation from the people I once called family.
Just as I thought I had completely lost, a black Lincoln Navigator slammed to a halt at the gates.
My "penniless" new husband stepped out, radiating a terrifying, righteous fury that made the entire Patton family freeze in horror.
8.2
When our family empire crumbled, my sister and I were sold off as collateral to the Chicago Outfit.
My fierce sister Frankie was forced to marry Damien Moretti, the terrifying Don. I was shackled to his brother Leo, a notorious, degenerate playboy.
I thought my life was over, but the real nightmare began on our wedding night. A terrified maid handed me the wrong room key. Exhausted and numb, I crawled into a dark honeymoon suite, praying my new husband would be too drunk to find me.
Instead, the heavy door opened, and a man fueled by a drug-laced drink stepped in. He was ruthless, punishing, and entirely stripped away my dignity in the pitch black.
When the morning light finally broke, I turned my head, expecting to see Leo's boyish face. Instead, I saw a profile carved from ice.
Damien Moretti. The Don. My sister's husband.
The very man who had previously called me a "liability" and ruined my life. When he realized who I was, his eyes filled with absolute, chilling disgust. He dragged me out of the ruined sheets, threw me onto the floor of a freezing shower, and demanded to know why I had sneaked into his suite.
"You ruined me. How am I supposed to look at Frankie? You should have just killed me. Kill me now, Damien. It would be a mercy compared to this."
I sobbed, the freezing water mingling with my tears. He just stared down at me with cold, unreadable intent. I was now trapped in a house of monsters, carrying the Don's darkest secret, and I had to figure out how to survive without destroying my sister.
8.8
Clara supported her boyfriend Leo for four years, paying his rent and buying his headshots while working dead-end extra gigs.
On his twenty-sixth birthday, she caught him in their bed with Veronica, a wealthy producer's daughter who constantly stole Clara's roles.
Leo mocked Clara as a "pathetic, poor stepping stone" who was just there until he got his foot in the door.
Veronica threatened to ruin Clara's career forever.
Clara dumped him, packed her bags, and impulsively entered a contract marriage with a cold stranger she met at City Hall.
But her nightmare wasn't over.
When her mother suddenly needed a $200,000 emergency brain surgery, Clara was forced to take a demeaning extra gig to survive.
There, Veronica and her starlet friend cornered Clara.
They mocked her cheap clothes, ridiculed her new wedding ring as fake glass, and intentionally poured scalding coffee on her feet.
"Well, maid, you better clean that up."
Veronica laughed, forcing Clara to her knees to wipe up the burning liquid while snapping photos.
Clara swallowed her burning humiliation, secretly recording their abuse on her phone.
She endured the pain, desperate for the $300 day rate to save her mother's life, feeling entirely crushed by their overwhelming wealth and power.
What she didn't know was that outside the soundstage, her new contract husband—the man she thought was just a struggling, broke tech worker—was sitting in a sleek black Maybach.
He watched his wife kneeling on the floor, and his dark eyes filled with a lethal, terrifying rage.
9.3
For years, Gabriela believed the man beside her would be the one she grew old with. They had loved each other since they were young, but in the end, all those years meant nothing beside a younger woman's smile.
Returning from a business trip, she uncovered his betrayal with brutal clarity. Still, she did not cry or beg. She took out her phone, recorded every damning second, and filed for divorce the moment she could.
Afterward, she rebuilt her life into something brighter, richer, and stronger, even marrying a powerful tycoon. As for her ex and his shameless mistress, they could rot together.
9.4
I was Aliana Donovan, a resident physician, finally reunited with the wealthy family I' d been lost from as a child. I had loving parents and a handsome, successful fiancé. I was safe. I was loved. It was a perfect, fragile lie.
The lie shattered on a Tuesday when I discovered my fiancé, Ivan, wasn't at a board meeting but at a sprawling mansion with Kiera Reese, the woman I was told had a mental breakdown five years ago after trying to frame me.
She wasn' t disgraced; she was radiant, holding a little boy, Leo, who giggled in Ivan' s arms.
I overheard their conversation: Leo was their son, and I was merely a "placeholder," a means to an end until Ivan no longer needed my family's connections. My parents, the Donovans, were in on it, funding Kiera' s lavish life and their secret family.
My entire reality-the loving parents, the devoted fiancé, the security I thought I' d found-was a carefully constructed stage, and I was the fool playing the lead role. The casual lie Ivan texted me, "Just got out of the meeting. So exhausting. I miss you. See you at home," while he stood beside his real family, was the final blow.
They thought I was pathetic. They thought I was a fool. They were about to find out just how wrong they were.
8.2
A virgin at thirty? A plus-size? Yes, that's Hera. After a painful heartbreak, she shuts herself off and chooses to focus on her career. Well, that's until She meets Mason aka Viper, the leader of Shadow riders motorcycle club on her way to her best friends wedding. He stakes his claim on her but life has a way of messing people up. Past traumas and bitter Ex's crawl on them. Hera has a secret, will Mason accept this side of her when he learns about it?
***
He is ready to settle, she only wants to play around. He is Jepoy aka Zero. The deadly weapon of the club, yet she elopes his traps, avoiding his claim.
She was not always like this, a traumatic marriage changed her. He saved her from him, but he can't save her from the hell she lives in everyday. Chloe knows she isn't ready to settle, Jepoy knows he must stake a claim on her. Two wounded souls, two different destination, is there a future for them?
TRIGGER WARNING: The story contains sensitive information.