
WET DESIRES WITH MY KINGS
"You don't know what to do? Rub it, baby," he murmured, his voice sending tingling shock straight to my already aching core.
*****
The Silas brothers, all of them want me, and all of them need me. They take me brutally, wild and possessive, filling every part of me.
Even though it hurts and leaves me sore, I love it and the craziest part? I craved it even more than they do.
Every single day, I want them stretching me, digging into me, and owning me. But I never wanted this. My father forced me to work here to raise money for my sick sister.
I tried to stay focused on the job, but the moment Vlad touched me, I felt something I had never experienced before, not even the pleasure I found on my own fingers could compare.
I lost all control. Then came Rurik, he gave me a kind of ecstasy that nearly drove me mad, making me ready to surrender my virginity to him right then and there.
But then, there is him. Cold and withdrawn, he wants me all to himself. And I love him. He was my first love, the only one I ever planned to give virginity to.
But now I realize I can't choose just one man, I want him to join the Silas brothers and own me alongside them.
Little did I know, he isn't who I thought he was. A one shocking revelation that tore me apart.
WARNING: This book contains raw adults' scenes with mature words and flesh mushing. If this is your genre, hop in with your popcorn....
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Chapter 2
Chapter Two
"Who the hell are you?" His deep, tenor-bass voice echoed through the room. I parted my lips to speak, but no words came out. Shame and fear crawled up my spine as I lowered my gaze, terrified of what this man might do to me.
He moved closer, took my jaw in his hand, and lifted my face toward him. My eyes met his, then dropped, widening at the sight of his hard dick pointing inches from me.
"You want a taste?" he asked with a smirk. But before I could react, he suddenly stepped back, like something inside me had shoved him away, his nostrils flaring as if catching an aweful smell or strange scent.
"You... you're..." he stuttered, breath catching as he inhaled sharply.
I managed to push myself up, and the moment I tried to run, he grabbed me and pulled me against him, breathing me in like I was the oxygen he needed to stay alive. His body shifted from cold to burning hot, so hot it felt inhuman, like I'd melt if I stayed pressed against him too long.
His hardness nudged my stomach, and no matter how much I tried to hide it, my body trembled with pleasure pulsing through me.
"Let go of me," I said, struggling against his grip, but he held me tighter.
I tried to look at his face, but the room was dim and my vision was blurred from the alcohol and the faint red light in the restroom.
My gaze dropped to my hands resting on his broad, solid chest. I bit my lower lip, embarrassed by how hungrily my body responded to him.
I opened my mouth to speak, but his next words stopped me cold.
"Please... be my girlfriend," he whispered, his deep voice brushing against my ear.
Girlfriend?
The word echoed in my head. I tried to convince myself I heard wrong.
'Is this how people get into relationships?' I wondered silently, wishing somehow he could hear my thoughts and answer me.
I'd never had a boyfriend. My father made sure of that. He said I was too young to be with a man at twenty one years of age.
"Is that a yes?" His voice snapped me out of my thoughts.
"Yes... sorry, I mean.."
"Accepted. You're my girlfriend now. Hello, girlfriend."
He cut me off instantly, like he already knew what I was about to say next.
He loosened his hold, cupped my face, and made me meet his eyes, even though I could barely see him clearly.
"You're my girlfriend now. Can I kiss you? Please. I promise I'll be gentle," he asked softly, taking both of my hands in his.
A lump formed in my throat. I swallowed hard and nodded without thinking.
He leaned in and kissed me, slow, gentle, his lips moving softly over mine. One hand rested at my waist, the other sliding through my hair.
I didn't know how to respond. It was my first kiss. Shame tugged at me for sharing it with a stranger... Oh sorry, my first boyfriend. But to my surprise, every part of my body wanted him, not only a kiss. Something deeper. I wanted more, his dick in my wet pussy.
I stood frozen, my hands hanging at my sides as he pulled me deeper into the kiss, licking the saliva at the corner of my mouth, sucking my tongue slowly.
"Girlfriend," he groaned, his breath warm against my ear as his lips left mine.
"I'm guessing it's your first time," he murmured, his voice rough with need.
"Yes..." I whispered, eyes closed, my body suddenly weak.
"I'll stop here tonight."
Those were the last words I heard before everything went black.
♧♧♧
I woke up the next morning in a room that wasn't mine. The scent of coffee filled the air. I knew immediately it was the stranger's room from last night.
I sat up fast and lifted the duvet to check my body. Relief washed over me when I realized he hadn't touched me. I climbed out of bed and grabbed my worn-out handbag lying beside me. I headed for the door but froze when a voice spoke behind me. My hand hovered in midair over the doorknob.
"Leaving already, girlfriend?"
I turned slowly. Bronze-gold eyes stared back at me, calm, intense, breathtaking. I swear for a five whole seconds, I forgot how to breathe.
There was no way this man was my boyfriend. I refused to believe it. He looked like someone straight out of a magazine. Part of me wanted to believe I was dreaming.
"Um... yeah. Home. Work. I..." my voice wavered, every word struggling to come out. I pressed a hand to my forehead and let out a low breath.
I stepped away from the door and took a better look at him. He looked like he was in his late twenties, maybe early thirties. His short dark wavy hair fell slightly over his forehead, still damp like he'd just left the shower, but he was already dressed in a sleek, custom-fitted suit, hands tucked in his pockets.
He stepped closer, close enough that the air between us suddenly felt warm. I've never considered myself short, but looking up at him here, the world seemed to shrink, and made me feel smaller.
"My name is Draven. Your new boyfriend," he said calmly.
He looked nothing like the man from last night. Last night he seemed carefree, almost playful. But the man in front of me now looked cold, powerful... dangerous. The kind of man who could destroy someone without hesitation.
I swallowed hard. "You don't have to remind me who you are. I know you're my... boyfriend," the word felt heavy on my tongue. I still couldn't believe I'd said yes to a stranger, a man I just met and let him kiss me.
"You were drunk last night. I thought maybe you forgot you agreed."
He reached out to brush a strand of hair from my face, but I quickly stepped back, staring at my fingers now.
His voice alone already had my body reacting. If he touched me again... I knew I'd melt. And I wasn't ready not to lose my virginity to someone I barely knew.
"I have to go. My dad's probably looking for me," I said quietly.
He stepped closer again and lifted my chin so I'd meet his eyes.
"I'll drive you," he said with a faint smile, then his eyes flashed gold.
I swear I wasn't imagining it. I saw it clearly. Gold.
I wanted to ask him what that was about, but he turned away and led me out.
He didn't speak again until we were in the car.
"You didn't tell me your name, girlfriend," he said, one hand on the wheel, the other resting on my thigh as he drove.
"Mira," I replied.
He nodded, and silence filled the car until he stopped in front of my house.
"When do I get to see you again?"
See me again?
That sounded impossible. Once my father found out I didn't come home last night, there was no way he'd let me out again.
"I... don't know," I said quickly as I opened the door. He asked for my number, and I gave it to him before hurrying inside, my heart racing.
Inside the house, my father stood in the living room with his back to me, talking on the phone. The call was on speaker, so I could hear the girl on the other end clearly.
"I think she knows too much. We need to act fast before this gets worse. Please...do something now," the girl pleaded, panicking in her voice.
The voice sounded familiar. But I convinced myself I heard wrong so I moved closer to be sure.
"Relax. It's been twenty one years. I'll deal with anyone who tries anything," my father replied coldly.
"Kill them. All of them. And bury them immediately!" she snapped.
My stomach twisted. I knew that voice. I knew it. For years she claimed she hated my father; and he told me to stay away from her but I refused. Or was I dreaming?
That was my best friend's voice.
'No it is not, you're wrong Freya,' I told myself, pushing the negative thoughts out of my head. There was no way it was her. She hated my father. She only cared about me.
"Fre..." My father paused then turned and froze when he saw me standing behind him before he could finish saying her name.
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9.1
Waking up with a cold, scaly hand wrapped around my throat wasn't the worst part.
The worst part was realizing I'd transmigrated into the body of Terra Mason—the most despised woman in the entire Enclave. She drugged high-level beast-men and forced them into life-binding bio-contracts. She locked an aquatic warrior in a dry basement until his organs failed. She treated the most lethal males in the city like broken toys.
Zev, the Level 6 serpent who's currently choking me, would rather blow up his own heart than spend another day as my slave. His affection metric? Negative ninety. His trust? Zero.
Then my system activates: the Kore AI. It gives me exactly 500 credits, a medical nano-gel, and a recipe for neutralizing the radioactive poison in mutant meat. Real food. In this world, that's worth more than gold.
I save Rhys, the dying aquatic male everyone left for dead. I season a slab of purple mutant steak until Sam, a battle-scarred grizzly shifter, groans at the taste—and his trust points finally tick above zero. When my backstabbing ex-best friend tries to steal my males and destroy me, I don't scream or throw a tantrum like the old Terra. I dismantle her with the truth.
But earning their trust means more than grilling meat. A scorpion swarm ambushes us at midnight. Sam throws himself between me and a stinger the size of my arm. As he stands over the corpse, fur receding from his claws, he stares at me and whispers, "You were testing me."
Yes. I was. Because in this world, the weak don't survive. And I refuse to be weak again.
Four beast-men. Four contracts. One system. And a whole lot of steak. Let this dystopian wasteland know—I'm not the monster they remember. I'm worse. I'm the one who's going to feed them until they'd kill for me.

7.8
The moment I saw my husband massaging his dead brother's pregnant mistress's feet, I knew my marriage was over.
He moved her into our home under the guise of "family duty," forcing me to watch as he prioritized her comfort over our vows.
The final betrayal came when she stole and deliberately broke my mother's priceless necklace.
When I slapped her for the desecration, my husband struck me across the face to defend her.
He had violated a sacred honor code by putting his hands on the daughter of another Don-an act of war.
I looked him in the eye and swore on my mother's grave that I would bring a bloody revenge upon his entire family.
Then I made one phone call to my father, and the demolition of his empire began.

7.4
I was the wife of Damien Valenti, the most ruthless mafia Don in Chicago.
But to cement his power and marry a rival family's daughter, he exiled me to the slums without a single dime.
"Stay not as my wife, Izzy, but as my whore."
That was his final ultimatum before dumping me out of his black SUV like trash.
Terrified of losing me, my five-year-old son, Angelo, secretly hid in the car to follow me.
Two days later, in a squalid Indiana motel, Angelo caught severe pneumonia.
I had no money and no doctor. In sheer desperation, I sliced my own wrist with broken glass, pressing my bleeding arm to his pale lips, begging him to drink and live.
But my little boy died in my arms.
Meanwhile, hundreds of miles away, Damien was sipping vintage champagne with his new bride, casually dismissing the life of his own flesh and blood.
The grief turned me into a monster. I spent twenty years clawing my way through the underworld to destroy his empire, only to die with a bullet in my chest.
I gave him my absolute devotion, yet he traded our family for political power without a single ounce of hesitation.
Opening my eyes again, I was back in that hellish neon-lit motel room.
Angelo was burning with fever and fighting for air, but he was still breathing.
This time, I wasn't the naive girl who loved Damien Valenti. I was a woman holding two decades of their darkest secrets, and my vendetta had just begun.

7.4
I was only fifteen when my venomous family orchestrated my doom by forcing me into an arranged marriage with mafia heir Javier Velasquez.
On our wedding night, Javier paraded strippers into our suite to show his absolute contempt, turning me into the ultimate joke of the underworld overnight.
But being a joke was a luxury compared to what came next.
Three years later, Javier needed to be a widower to marry into a heavily armed family and secure their backing for a coup.
He didn't grant me the mercy of a bullet.
Instead, he dragged me to an abandoned underground safehouse, locked me in the damp, rotting dark, and told the world I had been assassinated.
For six months, I starved in that dungeon, surviving only on the desperate hope that my family was safe.
Then, on the day of his lavish new wedding, a cruel maid kicked a plate of spoiled food onto my floor and delivered the final, fatal blow.
"Annabel is dead. Pined away and died of a broken heart two weeks ago."
My gentle mother was dead, all because she actually believed his lie about my tragic murder.
Driven by pure agony and an all-consuming hatred, I shattered crates of smuggled chemical solvents and struck a match, letting the roaring inferno turn their bloody wedding into my funeral pyre.
I thought the fire was the end.
But when I opened my eyes, the suffocating smoke vanished, replaced by the biting chill of a Long Island winter.
I was standing in the snow, back on the exact day my descent into hell began.
This time, the terrified girl was dead, and I would use their own ruthless rules to tear their empire apart.

9.3
WARNING!! THIS STORY CONTAINS A LOT OF MATURE THEMES, ELEMENTS OF HARDCORE BDSM, PRAISE KINKS, SLUT-SHAMING KINKS, AND DEGRADATION KINKS. READ WITH CAUTION.
(BOOK ONE OF THE DELUCA KINGS SERIES)
Serena would do anything to uncover the death of her parents, including sleeping with the most dangerous man in New York, Nero DeLuca. And he knows this, so he strings her along so he can see how far she's willing to go.
***
"Get on your knees," Nero said.
"Excuse me-"
"You're my submissive, and you exist for the sole purpose of my pleasure. I don't tolerate defiance. When I say get on your knees, you get on your knees."
"Yes," I replied as I got on my knees, hating how much his commanding tone turned me on.
He put his finger under my chin and lifted it so I could look at him.
"Yes, what?"
"Yes, sir."
"Good girl. Now get on the bed and show me that beautiful cunt. I want to see what it looks like before I destroy it with my cock. Tonight, the whole of New York will know you belong to me. I'll not take anything less than you screaming my name, and by the time I'm done with you, you'll feel me between your legs for a week."

8.1
**WARNING: VERY EXPLICIT 21+**
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My name doesn't matter. My filthy urges do. I came home from work. The bedroom door was half open. My husband was there, pounding into some woman on our bed, his c**k slamming in and out, deep and rough.
I should have screamed. Instead my p**sy clenched hard. I stood frozen, watching every thrust. My hand slipped under my skirt on its own. Fingers circled my cl*t as he f**ked her right in front of me.
He glanced over. "You like watching my c**k stretch her?" I rubbed faster.
"Don't stop," I whispered. Then I came shaking, eyes locked on him pounding her.
***
69 Dripping Fantasies is sixty-nine raw taboo stories. Wives catching husbands cheating and getting soaked instead of angry. Step-family secrets whispered in quiet. Glory holes that fill fast. Honeymoon wife swaps sparked by one dumb dare. Older rich men taking total control. Professors crossing every forbidden line. Husband's best friends sneaking in. Strangers who follow, then f**k hard. Group nights in dark clubs. Cucks cleaning up every last drop.
***
I'm on my knees. One thick c**k buried deep in my throat, making me gag. The woman behind me squeezes my t*ts until it hurts so good. Her tongue between my ass, teasing, no c**k has filled my p**sy or a*s yet. But I'm trembling, dripping, seconds from squirting everywhere. Two massive black c**ks wait their turn, and her presence makes it filthier... hotter.
I never knew I craved this so badly.
***
No soft romance. Just dirty yeses where no should be. Sixty-nine stories. Sixty-nine surrenders. Read if you're brave. These pages might leave you wet, jealous, horny... or secretly think of your own filthy fantasies when nobody's watching. Reader discretion is strongly advised.