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Everyone believed Solène was just a quiet, virtuous wife; the woman who stood behind her husband’s success and asked for nothing in return. But they were wrong. At a Thanksgiving dinner meant to celebrate family, Solène’s marriage is shattered when her husband, Lewis Crawford, introduces another woman and claims she is carrying his child. In front of those who benefited from her sacrifice, Solène is asked to accept the unthinkable with grace because a medical report said she can no longer conceive. She does not scream nor protest. She just smiled and accepted it, knowing fully well she held her husband's future in his hand. When she took the step to ruin him, she never expected that the satisfaction of watching him suffer would open doors to many more betrayals, and an obstacle she never saw coming. **** She scoffed bitterly, turning to him once more. “The first man I helped off his feet was you, Lewis. I vowed never to do it again.”

Late nights. Locked doors. No rules. An innocent curvy intern stays late to “finish reports,” only to find herself bent over her CEO’s glass desk, skirt shoved up, begging for his thick cock to ruin her tight pussy with raw, relentless strokes until hot cum drips down her trembling thighs while the city lights watch. A “straight” roommate sneaks into bed in the middle of the night, spreading his best friend’s ass and claiming him with deep, filthy breeding until he’s moaning, leaking, and unable to walk straight the next morning. Best friends share wine and secrets that turn into hungry tongues, scissoring, and strap-on pounding on the couch, soaking each other in squirt after violent squirt. A stressed wife books a private session with her personal trainer and ends up face-down on the gym mat, ass up, getting her dripping cunt destroyed while he growls filthy praise between punishing thrusts. Every story in ‘Irresistible Cravings’ drips with forbidden heat: Boss/employee power plays. Step-family taboos. First-time gay awakenings. Friends-to-lovers filth. Risky public and semi-public fucks. Raw breeding. Anal obsession. Possessive mafia captors. Knotting wolves. Glory holes. Multiple loads. Edging that breaks you. And climaxes so intense they leave you shaking. M/F dominance. M/M rough claiming. F/F sensual surrender. 100% raw. No limits. No regrets. Short, filthy, addictive stories. Lock your door. Because once you start reading 'Irresistible Cravings', your hand won’t stop moving.

-Attention Mature Content 18+ Only- Did Someone Say Taboo? is a collection of erotic short stories that are sure to get you all hot and stuff! Each story will take you through one of many different forbidden, taboo fantasies! These stories will awaken your own dark desires! Once you start, you won't want to stop! Check it out now!

A holiday of raw, dirty pleasures. A collection of forbidden desires brought to life. A Christmas spent in Sin and dirty fantasies. A collection filled with hot, passionate and steamy sex. Are you ready for this rollercoaster of undiluted and unfiltered tale that'll leave you breathless, aching and sinful?. If you're not 🔞 kindly scroll past this book.

A parent in my son's preschool group chat tagged me out of nowhere. "Theo's dad, your son's lunches always look pretty nice. Starting tomorrow, pack one for my daughter too." "I'm not asking for free food. I'll give you ten dollars a day. That adds up. You can make a little extra on the side." I stared at the message, almost laughing from how absurd it was. My son has severe food sensitivities and a fragile stomach. Every ingredient in his meals is specially sourced, and a single lunch costs far more than five hundred dollars to prepare. And this man thought ten dollars could buy it? I replied with two words: "Not happening." The next day, my son came home crying. His lunch had been taken by another child, and the teacher had scolded him for being selfish. Fine. Since they wanted to push this far, I would show them exactly how far I could go.

My husband promised we would spend Thanksgiving with my parents this year. Right before we left, he looked down at his phone and frowned. "Damn it. I forgot to change the delivery address again. Your parents' gift basket went to Cassia's place." I stood in the entryway with my fingers frozen around my scarf. For three years of marriage, Roman DeLuca had never removed Cassia Vail's address from his shopping apps. Whenever I asked him why, he always said the same thing: "Cassia and I grew up together. She’s basically family." The Italian espresso machine I wanted went to her apartment. He said her old machine had broken anyway. The sapphire bracelet for our wedding anniversary was signed for by her. He said asking for it back after she opened it would look petty. The sunflowers and baby's breath he promised me on Valentine's Day ended up in her hands. He said she had already put them in a vase, and he couldn't give me secondhand flowers. This time, I had reminded him for two weeks. The Thanksgiving basket had a low-sugar pumpkin pie, nut-free cookies, and a custom low-sodium turkey roll for my father. I had chosen every item myself. It still went to Cassia. I kept my voice steady. "Drive over and get it back." Roman's face darkened. "She already signed for it. What do you want me to do? We'll pick up wine and pastries on the way. Same thing." "It isn't the same. Get it back." He pinched the bridge of his nose. "Elena, can you stop turning every little thing into a family trial? No one makes things awkward like you do." Every time something meant for me ended up with his childhood sweetheart, I asked him to get it back. Every time, I got some version of the same answer. I stopped arguing and watched him slam the door behind him. A few minutes later, I wiped my tears and texted my attorney. [Happy Thanksgiving. Please draft a divorce agreement for me. Thank you.]