Stuffed

The Consigliere—my husband, Sal Barzini—who'd always despised anything soft or weak—suddenly started sleeping with a teddy bear. One button eye missing, filthy as a stray dog, yet he cuddled that beast every night, curled up in silk sheets like a baby returning to the womb. And left me freezing on the edge of the master bedroom. I couldn't stand it anymore. At our son Luca's first-year baptism, I announced I wanted out. Everyone went numb with shock. Sal grabbed a glass of red wine and threw it in my face. "You're jealous of a stuffed animal? Have you lost your fucking mind?" I wiped the wine from my cheek, cold as ice. "You say you want to spend your life with that beast. I'm giving you my blessing."

Three days before my wedding, I find out that my fiancee, Ivy Carlton, has changed the wedding venue from my grandfather's home—that's located up in the south—to Jonah Jennings, her childhood friend's favorite castle in Staravia. When I'm about to confront her, I overhear her complaining to her friend, "Thank goodness Jon's a man with taste! Otherwise, everyone's going to make fun of me for the rest of my life!" Her friend asks, "Didn't you agree that you'd hold the wedding ceremony in Theo's grandpa's house? Aren't you worried that he might not marry you out of fury when he finds out?" Ivy chortles in response. "The Sterlings are on the verge of bankruptcy. Marrying me is Theo's only ticket out of poverty. He can't risk losing me at all. "I've already arranged for the wedding planner to call him and inform him about the change. He's most likely rushing to change his flight." Rage and resentment swell in my heart. I clench my fists tightly, but in the end, I turn on my heel and leave. Three days later, the wedding is held in the castle, just as Ivy has planned. I never changed my flight, nor did I show up at the castle. Instead, I choose to exchange rings with another woman in my grandpa's courtyard. Till now, Ivy still doesn't understand that I want to marry her because we've been dating for ten long years, not because I view her as a ticket out of poverty. But now that I've woken up from my dream woven of fantasies, it's time for me to make choice.

Rated 18+!! Steamy mature contents contained here!!! Leilani Waters, a really beautiful independent lady, with the perfect body that can make any man sin willingly, won the heart of one of the most famous billionaires in the city, Neil. He loved her so much with his entire heart and could kill for her. Their lives went on smoothly until he walked in through the front door…Adonis Ace Giles, Neil’s stepbrother, a sex god, whose mouthwatering features will make any woman kill to get a taste of him and yet doesn’t believe in love. Leilani found herself drooling over Adonis, and when the heat between them became unbearable, they had sex… and from that day, everything changed for Leilani. What happens when Leilani is caught between marrying Neil and confessing her feelings to Adonis? ***Excerpt*** “F*ck me, Adonis.” I gasped against his shoulder, helplessly pressed into him as he rocked my body slowly with his slow, hard grinding. He yanked his hand off my ass forcefully, and the thong snapped. The sound and the smack of it against my skin made me shudder, almost cumming. He pulled the black thong away from me, the small fabric slick with my juices, and stuffed it in my open mouth. I groaned, hearing the tortured sound of my own groan muffled by my panties slick with my own wet. And I moaned again. “So many fucking things I wanna do to your body, Leilani.” He growled, “I’m gonna f*ck you so hard.” He said, gazing sinfully into my eyes as he said those maddening words and slid his erect cock out of his grey sweatpants. My vagina clenched, spilling more moisture. Then he parted my legs even wider and plunged his cock into my vagina. Deep. Wet. Hard.

"Shut up and take all our cocks, pretty slut." Three cocks stuffed inside me at once — one buried in my pussy so deep, one stretching my ass wide enough to make me scream, one choking my throat until spit pours down my chin and pools between my tits. ⚠ WARNING ⚠ This book is filthy. Not cute-spicy-chapter filthy. Cum-dripping-from-every-hole-on-the-first-page filthy. If that makes you uncomfortable, close the book. If you're already clenching, keep reading. Throw away every safe, sweet romance you've ever touched. This collection doesn't ask permission. It kicks the door down, drags you to the floor by your hair, and fucks you raw until you forget your own name. No slow burn. No boring buildup. No fade-to-black bullshit. Every story starts fast, hits hard, and doesn't stop until she's stuffed, stretched, dripping, and begging for more. Stepbrothers and stepfathers who fuck her while mommy sleeps, strict professors who fuck their grade A students, Hockey team players who pass her and breed her, dangerous men who settle debts with every hole, Alphas who knot her and lock their cum so deep it stays till the next day. Every dirty, forbidden dynamic you've been too embarrassed to search for — it's in here. These stories explore your darkest kinks. Choking. Breeding. Gangbangs. BDSM. Double penetration. Knotting. Degradation. Praise kink. Wax play. Face slapping. Spitting. Creampies. Cum on her face, in her throat, leaking from every hole. Raw, unprotected, no-pulling-out sex. If the thought of being held down, stretched open, and filled until cum is running down your thighs makes you squeeze your legs together — You're exactly where you belong. Turn the page. Your men are waiting. And they're starving.

Warning: This book is fucking disgusting. If the thought of getting your tight little holes stretched, used, and ruined makes you uncomfortable, close it right now and go read something vanilla. But if your pussy is already dripping and your thighs are squeezing together… keep reading, you filthy little slut. Throw away every safe, sweet romance you’ve ever touched. This collection doesn’t ask permission. It kicks the door down, grabs you by the hair, slams you face-down, and fucks you raw until you forget your own name. No slow burn. No gentle teasing. No fade-to-black bullshit. Every story starts fast, hits harder, and doesn’t stop until she’s spread wide open, stuffed full of thick cock, leaking load after load from every hole, and begging like a desperate whore for more. Stepdads and stepbrothers who double-team her while Mommy sleeps ten feet away, pumping her full of forbidden cum. Daddy’s closest friend blackmailing her with that slutty nude she accidentally sent, forcing her to cum on his fingers while Dad cheers at the TV inches away. Being gangbanged by drunk older men in the bar —every hole used, every load swallowed or pumped deep until cum runs down her thighs in thick rivers. Choking. Breeding. Gangbangs. Triple penetration. Degradation. Face-fucking. Raw, unprotected creampies that ruin you for any other man. If the thought of being held down and used without mercy while you cum so hard you see stars makes your cunt throb… You’re exactly where you belong. Turn the page, baby.. Your men are waiting. And they’re starving to wreck you...

3.5 Stories in one. She hides behind ugly suits and fake names. He's done trusting women. When they meet in a masked sex club, neither realizes they've been fighting each other across boardroom tables for eighteen months. At Taylor Industries, she's Joy Smith—the frumpy CFO who drowns her curves in shapeless polyester and wearing a wig. At home, she's the forgotten wife of a cheating lawyer who hasn't touched her in so long she's starting to wonder if she's broken. When she finds hot pink lace panties stuffed in her couch cushions...definitely not hers, it's not heartbreak she feels. It's freedom. Grayson Taylor doesn't do relationships anymore. Not after walking in on his actress fiancée with another woman. Now he channels everything into hostile takeovers and board meetings, especially the ones where his overcautious CFO fights him on every goddamn acquisition. Joy Smith is brilliant, infuriating, and funny when he pushes all her buttons. But Honey is tired of being invisible. Tired of never having felt real pleasure. So, when her best friend gives her the details of The Velvet Room—Manhattan's most exclusive masked club—she promises herself just one night. One night to find out if her husband's right, if she really is frigid, or if she's just never been touched by the right hands. She doesn't expect the masked stranger who claims her the second she walks in. Doesn't expect the chemistry that ignites between them, the way he makes her body sing, or the orgasms that leave her shaking. Doesn't expect him to hand her an email address with one command: "Only me. No one else touches you."