
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 Cold and withdrawn, he wants me all to himself.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 4
Chapter Four
A figure clothed in black, tall and lean, with long black hair tied into a ponytail, appeared before me. I took a step back, ready to run, but he turned sharply, and his voice froze me in place.
"Mira, you're here already. I didn't expect it to be this soon," he said. I turned slowly to face him.
"My name is Vlad. Blade's youngest son," he added, clearing his throat as he approached with a small, confident smile.
Everyone here seemed to know my name already, and it felt strange. It made me feel like prey that had been tracked long before it entered their world.
He stopped just a few feet away, pulling his hands out of his pockets. He moved closer, close enough that I could feel the heat radiating from his body. And before I could flinch, his left hand tangled in my hair, tilting my head back. His nose grazed the sensitive skin of my neck, inhaling deeply.
"Mira..." he groaned.
"Stop it! How dare you!" I shoved him, my heart hammering against my ribs. I was furious, yet a part of me reacted shamelessly at his touch.
The garden was dark, but a single bulb outside the mansion cast light on his face. His eyes were a piercing blue, the kind that seemed to hold a strange, dangerous power. These people, starting from Draven, were unlike any human I had ever met.
"Please, Mira..." he whispered, his voice a low plea as he pulled me back into his arms. One hand gripped my hair again, forcing me to feel the vibration of his voice against my skin.
"Your scent...Mira,"
"I said get off me!" I shouted, using every ounce of strength I had to shove him away.
He stumbled back, and I turned immediately, walking as fast as I could toward the mansion.
"Take me to my room," I told a servant mopping the corridor leading to the living room. He didn't answer immediately. I looked down and noticed a pool of blood on the floor, like an animal had been slaughtered there.
"He'll show you the way," the servant replied without looking at me.
I glanced up and saw the masked man from earlier standing silently at the end of the corridor.
"What happened...?" I started to ask, but a cold hand clamped onto my arm before I could get a response.
"To your room," he said. Without another word, he led the way.
He opened a door to the living room and then quickly climbed the stairs, moving so fast that I struggled to keep up. I followed silently until we reached a pink-painted door. He stopped and turned to me.
"This is your room. Everything you need is inside. If you need anything else, ask Vick," he said, his deep voice commanding yet calm.
He turned to leave, but halfway down the hallway, he paused and turned sharply toward me.
"Once it's midnight, do not step out. Keep your door locked."
I opened the door, barely glancing inside, and then shut it again. I needed to clear my head. I needed to silence the anger Vlad stirred inside me, and alcohol feels like the only answer.
I walked into the living room and went straight to the bar, no permission, no request. I didn't care if I got fired after this, my life was already a mess, a wreckage of broken dreams. No education, no medical career, and surely there's no future.
My eyes scanned the rows of wine bottles, and one caught my attention. I sank onto a stool and grabbed it. Without checking the label, I popped it open and pressed the bottle to my lips. Tilting my head back, the sharp cherry-and-spirit flavor filled my mouth.
"Mmm... ahh, tastes great," I whispered, taking another long sip. Before that one even reached my belly, I took another.
"My life is ruined. No school, no doctor, no surgeon... all thanks to you, Dad," I shouted, laughing bitterly despite the sharp ache in my chest.
I lifted the bottle and gulped down the remaining contents. My vision blurred, my throat burned, and I jumped down from the stool and staggered toward the stairs.
I stepped onto the first stair and realized my legs could barely hold me. So I crawled up, using both my hands and knees, until I reached a door I believed was mine. I stopped, opened it, and walked inside.
I made my way to what I thought was a couch, or maybe a bed, I wasn't sure. I only knew I was falling onto something.
I sank into it, and a sharp pain shot through my back. I jolted upright, my eyes widening as I realized I wasn't lying on a couch at all, it was a long table covered with weapons and sharp objects scattered across its surface.
I sank to the floor, and my left finger slid up my dress, thighs trembling and a cold shiver washed through me. My breath turned shallow as my thoughts drifted back to Draven, and I pictured his veiny dick thrusting into my wet slippery pussy.
My right fingers traced my neck down to my chest and cupped my breast, "Yeah! Fuck..." a soft whisper slipped from my mouth, my thumb circling the nipple until it hardened.
Ever since I met Draven, something in me craves to be touched, sucked, and fucked. It had never been like this, not even after I hit puberty.
Now, just the thought of him gets me wet. I pushed my underwear aside and slid a finger down to my wetness. Without putting it inside, I circled the sensitive flesh around my entrance, moving it to my clit, thumbing it.
"Fuck... yeah..." My breath quickened, and I moaned into the room, loud and shameless. I slid my finger up and down, from my clit to my wet pink flesh around my pussy hole, slow at first, then faster, while my other hand teased my breast.
I imagined Draven thrusting deep, stretching my walls for the first time. "Fuck me, Draven... yeah... Draven, fuck..." His name escaped my mouth before I could catch it.
Accidentally, one of my fingers slipped inside me. A sharp, brief sting flared, but it was suddenly replaced by a rush of pleasure. I began to slide my finger in and out, finding a rhythm that made my hips lift to meet every stroke.
A warm wet fluid coat my hand and dripped to the floor, my body shuddered and a shock raced through me.
"My cock can do something better than that," a voice said. My eyes snapped open, and I saw Vlad standing in front of me, holding his hard, slim, veiny length in his hand.
"What the hell..." I tried to stand up, shame washing over me, but he held me back.
"Please, Mira. I promise I will be gentle..."
The thought of Draven flashed through my head again. I tried to fight the urge to stay faithful, but I couldn't. Not in this state.
"Go on your knees. Take me, Mira... I am yours," he purred, bringing his cock close to my face.
I obeyed like a child and dropped to my knees and gulped down the lumps of pleasure that settled in my throat before reaching out to touch him, suddenly confused about what to do next.
I looked up at him, and he had that boyish, charming look on his face as he smiled down at me.
"You don't know what to do? Rub it, baby," he murmured. His voice sent a tingling shock straight to my already aching core.
My small hand wrapped around his nine-inch length, and before I knew it, I was gliding my palm up and down. It felt so fucking wrong, yet so right at the same time.
I had just met this guy tonight. I was in a relationship, and yet here I was, on my knees, pleasuring my boss's son, ready to spread my legs and let him take me.
"Fuck, Mira..." His soft groan pulled me out of my head. I ran my hand over him, loving the feeling of his hard, veiny cock against my palm.
"Yes, Mira... you naively know how to do it right. I love it. Now, wrap your mouth around my dick. Take it all," he moaned, gathering my hair back into a makeshift ponytail to clear my face.
Without even thinking, I stuck my tongue out and licked the precum on the cap of his cock. It tasted so nice and disgusting all at once.
"Fuck..." His moan resonated through the room. I continued to swirl my tongue around his cap, licking him and swallowing the taste of him. It felt so good to hear him moan, even though I knew I was still just learning.
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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.