Kitty: An Autobiography

"I hope you're not a minor, kitten? I don't wish to commit two sins together." "Fuck! I can't wait to taste you." "Bend on your knees and spread those legs, kitten! I want to see all of you." Some desires should never be touched. They burn too brightly, shine too dangerously, leave marks you can’t hide and once tasted, they consume everything. Forbidden fruit tastes sweet, they say. But they never mention the burn that follows, how addictive it is, the filthy obsession that settles in your bones. That’s what he was, a sin she couldn’t resist, a danger she wanted to fall into again and again. Katherine Smith, 19 years old, all-American innocence with her long light brown hair and piercing blue eyes. But her body tells a different, more provocative story, lush, curved and ripe, a woman’s voluptuous form that belies her youthful gaze. Her not-so-happening life takes a turn with the arrival of Vincent Morris, her mother’s 36 years old step-brother. Vincent is a storm given human form, tall, powerfully built with dark blond hair and watchful brown eyes that seem to see through every polite pretense. He knew it was illicit, she knew it was wrong, both of them knew it was forbidden, but they couldn't stop themselves from that intoxicating desire. Vincent, the older, dominant guide, introduces Katherine to the art of power that comes from acknowledging desire, to a world where pleasure is a transaction, a language. He teaches her that her body is a formidable instrument and he shows her how to play it. It's all about indulging in those hidden cravings with no boundaries, where pleasure knows no limits and desire is the only rule. Dive into the world of love, lust and forbidden desire.

Warning!!!!! This book contains strong language, BDSM, possessive ex and an abusive boyfriend. And not suitable for readers younger than 18! Rated-18 Smut Smut Smut!!!! “Jesus,” she breathes out, tossing the lolipop to the side. “You really don't fuck around.” I nod like she can see me, I fuck around just not when it comes to her. She shifts back on the bed, knees bending then parting wide enough for me to see her freshly shaven pussy, glistening under the light. "Did you want me like this, Tamer?" she asks, voice low and rough. She hooks her fingers parting her pussy lips, enough to expose her clit for me. "Or would you like me to fuck myself, while you watch me?” ------------ Gianna Ramirez has three rules: 1. Don’t fall in love again. 2. Don’t get caught on girlgonewild.com. 3. Don’t let Dmitry Orlov back into your life. But the universe has other plans. Five years after ghosting her, Dmitry returns to New York—handsomer, hotter, and more possessive than ever. When her brother falls into a coma, Dmitry takes her under his roof… right where he wants her. To escape the pull of the man who broke her, Gianna turns to the one person who could erase him from her mind: Kevin Greyheart, the senator’s son who’s been chasing her from day one. Caught between her brother’s best friend and the man who refuses to let her go, Gianna must decide… who will have her heart, and who will ruin it completely?

Note: This is a super erotic +18 pages of her diary. Read at your own risk. When the thunder rolls and the lights flicker, Lexi writes, and nothing is off limits. Trapped between the walls of a religious household and the firestorm inside her own body, Lexi is a quiet 21-year-old woman with a loud, unfiltered diary. Orphaned at twelve and raised by her aunt and pastor uncle in a small Georgia town, Lexi lives in the shadows — but her fantasies, frustrations, and forbidden desires fill every page of her private journal. Naked Pages: The Diary of Lexi is a confessional coming-of-age erotica told from the perspective of a young woman exploring her sexuality in secret. From heartbreak and betrayal to late-night cravings, self-discovery, and unexpected temptation, Lexi’s journey is messy, raw, and deeply honest. She’s not searching for love — she’s chasing something real: connection, pleasure, and control over her own story. As she transitions into a new life in Atlanta, surrounded by new people and new dangers, Lexi’s entries grow even bolder. And every chapter she writes pulls us deeper into her unfiltered world — full of heat, heartbreak, and hard truths. This is more than just her diary. It’s her freedom.

“You need to learn manners, kitten.” I growl, prowling towards her. "Don't call me that, you kidnapper!” She screeches, throwing another bedside lamp at me. “Take another step forward and I'll—” I grab her and bend her over my knee. I twist both of her hands behind her back, despite her struggles and screams. “What are you doing?!” She shrieks. "Teaching you what happens when you act like a spoilt brat.” I yank her dress up to reveal the smooth skin of her ass, and plain white panties. And land a hard slap on it. *** Dymond Hilary's obsessive ex-lover is trying to murder her. It gets too dangerous, so she runs to the next city, Los-Angeles, with nothing to her name. No job, no home and no means for survival. To make ends meet, Dymond resorts to pickpocketing and stealing. This serves her well, until she made the terrible mistake of stealing from Nile Garres, the most ruthless and tyrannical billionaire in the country. As punishment, he kidnaps her. First to humiliate and teach her a lesson, but then found himself fascinated by his little redhead pet, who he would protect and pamper with all his wealth and power. But how does this ruthless billionaire react when he discovers that his feisty little kitten was pregnant for a powerful rival billionaire? And he finds out she was on someone's murder list? And this "someone" was her psychopath ex-lover?

Mom always says that depression is nothing more than an illness born of idleness. People who are truly busy studying don't have time to be depressed. So, during my senior year of high school, I lie awake through countless nights, my hair falling out in clumps as I tremble over endless mock papers. Mom only slides another mock exam booklet in front of me. "Finish this booklet, and you won't have time to wallow in self-pity." At family gatherings, my relatives notice that I keep my head down and barely speak. They ask Mom, "Why has she gotten so quiet?" Mom's face darkens at once. "It's because she's guilty about something, duh. Go on. Tell everyone what you've done wrong this time." Later, even my homeroom teacher calls to say I don't seem like myself anymore. The moment Mom hangs up, she rounds on me. "So, now, you've started tattling to your teacher?" It isn't until I collapse before a mock exam that she finally listens to the doctor's advice and brings home a tiny orange tabby. Through the darkest days of my life, that cat becomes my only reason to keep going. Eventually, I make it into college. When I come home for the Independence Day holiday, I step through the door and call out instinctively for him. "Tangy?" No answering meow. Even the cat bed on the balcony is gone. "Stop calling," Mom said flatly. "I dumped him back where I found him the day you left." I stand there, frozen for several seconds before turning and darting outside, only to realize I have no idea where to go. The sounds around me become muffled, as though separated by a pane of glass, drifting farther and farther away. At that moment, my last connection to the world quietly snaps.

On our tenth wedding anniversary, my wife's secretary, Ryan, posted a photo on social media. I took off my wedding ring and asked for a divorce. Madison looked stunned. "You're divorcing me over a picture of me with a cat? What kind of childish stunt is this?" She was severely allergic to cat fur. For her, I gave away the cat I'd loved for seven years. In ten years of marriage, I'd never even thought about getting another pet. Yet she let Ryan keep a ragdoll cat in the office. Cat fur was everywhere, but she'd just smile, pop an allergy pill, and say the cat helped her relax. There were more photos of that cat on her phone than pictures of our family. When Madison realized I was serious, she snapped. She pointed at our five-year-old daughter, sitting in Ryan's arms. "If you divorce me, you'll never get custody of Bella. And don't expect her to take care of you when you're old!" I looked at Bella calmly. She glared back, her little hand gripping Ryan's shirt. I smiled. I didn't want my cheating wife anymore. Why would I want an ungrateful brat too?