Percy Sledge My Special Prayer

WARNING: This book is rated 18+ and will contain explicit sexual contents. He's off-limits. But tonight, I'm done pretending. Bell thinks I'm his sweet little girlfriend. But it's his stepdad who sees the real me— wet, needy, and aching to be ruined. One look. One whisper. One filthy promise. And just like that… I'm on the kitchen counter, legs wide, moaning "Daddy." This isn't just sex This is sin And it feels so damn good to be a sinner. Welcome to the diary of a sinner—where shame is foreplay and obedience tastes like lust. Where pleasure is punishment—and sin feels holy. This is a collection of raw, filthy, indulgent one-shots where no desire is too dark to explore, no boundary too sacred to cross. Each story is a confessional soaked in pleasure, punishment, and the bittersweet afterglow of release. And you’re going to love every one of them, especially if you're looking for a book filled with wild sexual fantasies. Join the ride, if you can control the heat.

“God—” “Not God,” he muttered against my neck, biting the skin there. “Me. Say my name.” “Dorian!” I cried, back arching. “That’s it.” He stroked faster, his thumb teasing over the tip, slicking me up. “Good boy. Take it.” Ezra Monroe was raised to be pure. The perfect choir boy. Twenty-two and untouched—soft voice and eyes that have never looked too long at sin. But one man ruins everything. Father Dorian Vale. The moment his eyes meet Ezra’s, something snaps. And a good boy learns how to kneel for the wrong man. He was supposed to guide him to heaven. Instead, he’s teaching him how to sin. He’s not here to save Ezra. He’s here to ruin him. Slowly. Until every prayer sounds like his name.

“You better be as long as the lengths you go to avoid me.” “Miss Patterson?!” he sounds flabbergasted. My eyes start to adjust to the darkness and I see that he is at the far corner, sitting on one of two seats in the room. “Is that what you’ve chosen to call me? Can you moan that?” “Miss Patterson!! I am your priest! You ought not to show up like this in front of me and say vulgar things to me.” He tries and fails to sound stern. He was practically drooling. “Yet all you want to do is clasp your hand on my chest and listen to me sing praises to you.” “You are of the devil.” I nod, “I’ve been called worse. But is it okay for a priest to moan about the devil while inside me?” “Will you stop??” “I will, after I’ve had my fill with you.” Melanie Rose Patterson wants her priest, and will stop at nothing to get into his pants. Because no matter what his mouth says, his body wants her. What Melanie wants, Melanie always gets... until now.

On my birthday, I personally prepare 16 dishes. After setting up the candlelight, I open a bottle of red wine. I take a photo and send it to my husband, Eric Sinclair. "I'm working late tonight. Don't wait for me," he replies. I choose to believe him. But after midnight, I notice an Instagram story posted by Shirley Huxley, his secretary. Eric was there with her, dressed in the trench coat I once gave him. They sat side by side in the VIP seat of football stadium where my favorite Super Bowl take place. Entwined in a passionate embrace, they kissed beneath a sea of shimmering lights and the roar of thousands of fans. That game is the one I have always longed to experience with him. I look down at the cold food on the table. Eric's words keep ringing in my head. "I hate kissing." "Marriage is a partnership, not about love and kisses." Though we've been married for ten years, we've never shared a single kiss. Meanwhile, he's out there, kissing Shirley openly and passionately. Despite it all, not a single tear falls from my eyes. The next day, Eric settles into his chair, completely unfazed. "Return the gallery to Shelly," he commands. I nod quietly, saying nothing. Suddenly, Layla Sinclair, my daughter, comes running down the stairs and throws herself into Shirley's arms. "Aunt Shirley, you're my favorite. I don't like Mom!" In that instant, it hits me—the home I devoted my heart and soul to means nothing anymore. It doesn't matter that I've been married to Eric for a decade. Now, all I want is to find myself again. I decide to accept an invitation from the Parisoir School of Fashion Design. From this moment on, I won't wait for them to come home, and I won't look back.

My uncle’s rival, Emmett Meyer, saved me twice. The first time, I was drowning after a shipwreck—until he cut through the waves on a speedboat and dragged me ashore. The second time was after someone had slipped drugs into my drink. That night, I seduced him, a hardened man ten years my senior. In the dim glow of a private room, he guided my hand downward and growled, “I want you so bad, Babe.” He took me ruthlessly, ignoring my sobs and pleas. From then on, Emmett—the untamable “Prince of Silverbridge”—abandoned his reckless ways and devoted himself to me. Or so I believed. Then one day, he coaxed me into his Rolls-Royce and captured our tryst on camera. I flushed with embarrassment and secret delight. Later, as I hurried after him to return some documents he had left behind, I heard the sneers whispered in the hallway: “You’re so wild, Emmett. Everyone heard your girl moaning.” “Damn, the car rocked so hard I thought you’d break it.” “Hey, if Franklin Reed ever finds out that his precious niece has been your plaything for three years… think he’ll have a heart attack?”

The year I became one of the country's top defense attorneys, I received a case request from my ex-boyfriend, Julian Sterling. We'd loved each other for four years, yet I couldn't marry him, couldn't have children with him, and couldn't even meet his family. All because the Sterling family had a rule: whoever cast nine blessed oracle blocks in a row would be the daughter-in-law recognized by their ancestors. I begged for that blessing a thousand times. Every cast came back cold. Everyone in Harbor City laughed and said I was born without the fortune to marry into wealth. Then my adopted sister returned from overseas, casually cast nine blessed blocks, and became engaged to Julian Sterling. At last, he told me the truth. "I weighted those oracle blocks with lead. No matter how many times you cast them, they were never going to bless you. "Celia had a difficult background. I had to do this to win her the dignity and status she deserved." So the humiliation I endured for four years had all been his way of paving a road for another woman. On the day of the Sterling family's century wedding, I left Harbor City for Capital City and joined a law firm. Now I was a top attorney with a perfect win rate. Julian Sterling, trapped in a legal crisis, sat across from me and pushed over a check. "You're the only one who can win this case. "Take it, and fifty million is yours." I gave a soft laugh. Then I opened my drawer, took out a pair of oracle blocks, and set them in front of him. "The Sterling family has Sterling rules. I have mine. "If you can cast nine blessed blocks in a row, I'll take your case."