Spiderman X Silk Novels & Stories

Cassidy never imagined her world would collapse on an ordinary Tuesday afternoon. She came home early—just ten minutes early—because she forgot her sketchbook. Ten minutes. That was all it took to destroy everything. Because when she opened her bedroom door, she didn’t just catch her boyfriend cheating. She caught him with her mother. The betrayal hit harder than any heartbreak she’d ever read about in her romance novels. Humiliated, shaking, and unable to breathe, Cassidy did the only thing she could—she ran. Straight into the neon haze of the city’s wildest nightclub. She didn’t plan on drinking. She didn’t plan on dancing. And she definitely didn’t plan on meeting him. Dante Ashford. The dangerously handsome billionaire heir with a voice like velvet and a stare that feels like sin. He didn’t ask if she was okay—he asked her name like he was already claiming it. He touched her like he had every right. He kissed her like he’d been waiting for her his whole damn life. One shot turned into two. Her pain turned into recklessness. And one devastating night turned into the hottest mistake of her life. A one-night stand with a man whose name she never learned. Cassidy thought that would be the end of it. Just a secret she’d take to the grave. Until her mother announced she was getting married. And Cassidy came face-to-face with her new “family.” Dante—the stranger who’d had her pinned to silk sheets, whispering sinful things in her ear—is now her stepbrother. Worse? He remembers everything. Every kiss. Every moan. Every broken piece of her she tried to forget. And Dante isn’t the type of man who lets go. Not of the past. Not of secrets. And definitely not of her.

I could see the countdown above a person’s head when they had already decided to leave their partner. The day my father’s countdown hit zero, he slapped a lawyer’s letter on the breakfast table and walked out on my mother and me. The day my best friend’s countdown hit zero, she finally threw her parasite of a boyfriend out of her apartment and changed the locks before sunset. That was why I’d always been terrified of seeing a countdown above my fiancé, Lucian Bellandi. Luckily, for seven years by his side, the space above his head had stayed clean. Lucian was the youngest Don the Bellandi family had ever seen. He owned the docks, the casinos, and half the South Side’s dirty money, yet he saved every soft part of himself for me. Until last month, when he picked me up after a family auction. I looked up and saw blood-red numbers stabbing into my eyes. [702 days, 14 hours, 22 minutes.] Less than two years. My heart tightened like a cold hand had closed around it. I started searching for an answer like a woman losing her mind. Had I done something wrong? Then, during a blizzard by the lake, we ran into Mia Crane at the back entrance of the Bellandi Hotel. Lucian had just brought her into his charity foundation as a new assistant. Snow clung to her hair and lashes. She was shivering from head to toe, but her smile was bright and painfully innocent. Lucian pulled a black silk handkerchief from his breast pocket and handed it to her. His face was calm. There was nothing openly improper in the gesture. But in that exact second, the countdown above his head jumped. [327 days, 4 hours, 47 minutes.] More than three hundred days, gone. And I knew I had found the reason.

️ ⚠️ Warning: This is not just a sweet fake dating romance, it contains extremely grey characters that’ll have you questioning your sanity and wanting more, strong languages/actions not suitable for minors. “You’re not going to turn me on and leave me fvckn hanging, Kade.” F*ck. I’ve never really fancied dominant women, but that fire blazing in her eyes flips something inside me. For tonight, I want to be her toy. Her s*x doll. Her slick, hot p*ssy presses directly against the hard bulge in my jeans as she settles on top of me. “Sora…” My hands grip her thighs, fingers digging in as she rocks harder, coating the front of my pants with her aro*s*l. “Do you know how long I’ve waited for you to fcvk me?” she breathes against my mouth... “Since the garden, watching you flex your back and biceps as we walked was pure torture.” “I don’t know what you’ve done to me, but after tonight we’ll put an end to it.” —————————————————————————— Sora believed that if she stayed loyal long enough, she would finally be enough for Cameron. But a year later, he’s still hopelessly in love with Daisy McQueen—the girl who made Sora’s high school years a living hell. When Sora exposes Daisy’s cheating on the night of Cameron’s proposal, she expects the truth to set him free. Instead, she’s painted as the jealous, bitter girl trying to ruin his happiness.To save her pride, she claims she has a boyfriend—and Kade Black is the only man close enough to make the lie stick. Although cold, arrogant, and completely off-limits, Kade surprisingly agrees to fake date her.

“You have no idea,” he said quietly, “how difficult it is hearing you say things like that while you’re upstairs and I can’t touch you.” My stomach tightened hard. “Then come upstairs.” The words escaped before I could think them through. Silence crashed into the room. “You do know what you’re asking for, don’t you?” “Yes.” A long pause. Then: “Open your door.” At twenty-two, Ivy Hart has mastered the art of pretending. By day, she’s the polished daughter of a wealthy country club businessman—the successful young woman her father proudly brags about to his golf buddies. By night, she becomes someone else entirely. Hidden behind soft lighting, silk robes, and a fake name, Ivy earns millions online giving strangers the intimacy she’s never found in real life. But one man is different. Masked. Older. Addictive. Known only as BigDaddyP, he doesn’t just watch her—he sees her. Every insecurity. Every lie. Every lonely part she hides behind the camera. Their late-night sessions become her obsession. Until the night he whispers her real name during a private stream. Terrified, Ivy logs off moments before her father calls with unexpected news: his famous actor godson, Patrick Laurent, will be staying at their mansion for Christmas while her parents leave town. Cold blue eyes. Dangerous restraint. A voice she would recognize anywhere. Because the man she’s been craving in the dark is now sleeping down the hall from her. Snowed in together in a mansion, the line between performance and reality begins to blur. And the more Patrick strips away her carefully built masks, the more Ivy realizes the real danger isn’t that her father’s closest friend knows exactly who she is, It’s that she wants him in every forbidden way possible.

THIS BOOK IS RATED 18 AND HAS A LOT OF ADULT CONTENT Blurb~ "Get off me!" Tessa gasped, struggling beneath Vernon's broad frame. His dark eyes gleamed with something unreadable—a hunger, a craving. When he didn’t move, panic surged through her, and she screamed. His hand shot out, wrapping around her throat, his grip unyielding. A breathless gasp tore from her lips. "You can't run from me, Peach." His voice was silk and steel, lethal in its promise. "I own you." — Tessa had lost everything—her home, her wealth, her love. The man she once adored, Tamlin, had not only betrayed her but stripped her of everything she owned, tossing her aside like she meant nothing. She was Heartbroken, Weak and Shattered. But things were only going to get worse. Tamlin didn’t just ruin her—he sold her. As collateral to pay his debt. Now, she belonged to the devil himself—Vernon Carter. Cold. Dominant and Cruel. A man who didn’t know the meaning of mercy. But behind this cold facade is man who is wounded by heartbreak and swore never to give his heart out again. He thought he could break her, use her but he was wrong. Tessa shut the door to her heart and now it only wanted vengeance. She wanted Tamlin to suffer. And to do that, she needed power. Wealth. Someone more ruthless than Tamlin ever was. Vernon was the perfect pawn. She made up her mind. She would seduce him. Make him crave her. Make him hers on the terms that she would never fall for him but fate had other plans. What happens when Vernon discovers her true intentions, that he was just a pawn in her twisted games—and the game of love and revenge spirals into something far more dangerous?

Deck the halls with daddy issues and scream "yes, Santa" until the neighbors complain. She sold herself to save her mother. He bought her to settle a score. Neither expected twelve days of captivity to feel like coming home. Ten years ago, Evangeline Rose fled Willow Creek and the cruel boy who made her life hell. Now she’s back with a new name, a new body, and one desperate choice: enter the town’s secret Christmas auction where wealthy men bid on willing women. When the hammer falls at five hundred thousand dollars, Eva expects a stranger. Instead, she gets Grayson Holt—her former tormentor, now a devastatingly dangerous man in a half-open Santa jacket who just bought twelve uninterrupted nights with the virgin he once swore no one would ever want. She should be terrified. He's the reason she hid in bathroom stalls and cried herself to sleep. But the first time he kisses her, his hands shake. The first time she fights back, he groans her name like a prayer. And somewhere between the firelight and the snow and the silk ribbons around her wrists, they both realize the ugly truth: He didn't buy her to break her. He bought her because he's been broken without her. The boy who spray-painted "fat ugly bitch" on her locker is the same man who falls to his knees in the snow on the last morning and begs her not to leave. The girl who swore she'd never forgive him is the same woman who has to choose: walk away free, or stay with the monster who finally admitted he's been in love with her since the day he made her cry. Eva spent a decade learning to hate Grayson Holt. Turns out she's been loving him the whole damn time.

“My lawyer will bring the divorce papers tomorrow and you can sign it. Once it's a month, I will have it delivered to the court." Liam explained with calmness. “Fine, but you will have to act according to my rules now," I said, and Liam looked at me with eyebrows furrowed. “I have conditions I would like you to pay keen attention to it." Liam didn't pry too much, and instead, he told me to go ahead. “Okay. I would like to have my separate room." “Fine," Liam agreed without batting an eyelid. “I don't want to share meals with you or anything. I will walk the way I want and do everything I want in my way." “Accepted," Liam replied. I released my hands under my bosom and clasped them together. I bit my lips in nervousness and braced myself. I'm no longer a teenager. “I don't want us having s*x," I said, looking at the wall. A blush crept to my cheeks which made me shut my eyes tight, muttering some curses under my breath. * * * * * * * * Emily had an arranged marriage to Liam Nolan, the ruthless billionaire in Los Angeles. Although she always had a crush on him Liam never recuperated her feelings. Despite the love she has for him, Liam didn't hesitate to treat her like trash. Betrayed by her sister, Emily's life was cruelly cut short. However, she was granted a second chance and this time, Emily swore to not repeat the same mistake she made in her past life. What happens when she realizes her ruthless husband has no intention of letting her go in this lifetime? Would she find the strength to break free, or would Liam's relentless pursuit rekindle the flames of their passionate yet toxic love?

"Does my son f*ck you this good? No? Then take this d*ck like the good girl you are." My father-in-law had me bent over the kitchen counter, hand clamped over my mouth to muffle my moans, while his son—my husband—called my name from upstairs... *** You think you know what you're getting into? You don't have a f*cking clue. This isn't some tasteful romance where the camera pans away. This is the raw, uncut, NC-17 version of your filthiest 3 AM fantasies—the ones you'd never admit to anyone, not even yourself. We're talking D*ddies who don't ask permission because you already gave it with those desperate eyes. Men old enough to be completely off-limits but experienced enough to make you forget your own name. They'll bend you over their desk, f*ck you silent at family dinner, and make you call them D*ddy while reminding you how young, and tight you are. Trigger warnings? Everything here is designed to trigger you. Age gaps that'll get you disowned. Rough hands leaving fingerprint bruises on your hips. Choking that blurs your vision while he calls you his perfect little slut. Public s*x in places you'll never see the same way. Getting passed around because one man isn't enough. These men don't make love—they f*ck, claim, own. They'll use every hole like it belongs to them because it does. Degrade and worship you in the same breath. Call you their dirty girl while balls deep making you scream. Now be a good girl, turn the f*cking page, and let Daddy show you what you've been missing.

“Tell me again,” he murmured, his bare chest a hot, dangerous brand against her back. His teeth grazed the shell of her ear, making her shudder. “How you want me to treat you.” She clutched the silk sheets, dragging them up to her chin, hating the tremor in her voice. “I—I want you to be professional.” A low, dark laugh ghosted over her damp skin. “Then stop looking at me like that.” His amused, arctic-blue eyes held hers captive in the bedroom mirror. She squeezed her eyes shut, wondering what in the world she’d gotten herself into. ^ ^ ^ Isabella Rossi’s life shattered when she discovered her boyfriend’s affair with her best friend, Chloe. The happy couple were even expecting a baby, and she was supposed to be happy for them. Hah. Heartbreak was just the beginning. Drunk and deceived, she woke up in the bed of a powerful, enigmatic stranger—Vincent Sinclair. She thought it was a one-time, humiliating mistake. A secret she would bury forever. Until Monday morning, when Vincent Sinclair strolled into her office as the new, ruthless CEO. And she found out he was her ex-best friend Chloe’s half-brother. Flustered but confident, she met his eyes. Men like him didn’t remember girls like her. She was sure of it. He was most likely just an entitled playboy and the faces in his bed probably blurred. But oh, how wrong she was. Vincent Sinclair remembered everything. Finding his "one-night stand" playing the part of a forgettable employee was his new favorite amusement. First, he made her his personal secretary. Then, he made her life a living, tempting hell. Finally, he served her a contract. Not for a raise—for marriage. It was absurd. But with her life in shambles and his offer too lucrative, Isabella signed.

[No matter how carefully you plan, fate can erase everything with a single stroke.] The moment I confirmed that Delilah Carter was cheating on me, that post appeared on my phone. I opened it calmly and scrolled to the comments beneath a thread titled "Unfaithful". Then I added a few lines of my own. [How unbelievable can it be?] [A coworker snapped a casual vacation photo and posted it online. Out of thousands of people in the background, my fiancee and my best friend just happened to end up in the same frame.] [Our wedding is in three days, yet here I am, rushing across the country in the middle of the night to catch them together.] After posting the comment, I locked my phone. The wallpaper display happened to be our wedding portrait. Leaning against the white wall of the hotel corridor, I closed my bloodshot eyes in exhaustion. Only after the intense, frenzied noises inside finally stopped did I raise my hand—still wearing my wedding ring—and knock on the door. "Who is it?" Delilah opened the door wearing a silk camisole. I pushed past her and walked inside. Marcel Graham froze when he saw me, unsure how to react. "Cedric Davenport..." Before he could say anything else, the beautiful Delilah threw herself in front of him. "It was me! I seduced Marcel! Whatever you want to do, take it out on me! Leave him alone!" They clung to each other like tragic lovers facing the end of the world, desperate to hold on to one another. I stood silently in the darkness, my expression vacant, as I breathed in the lingering musky scent in the room. I didn't argue or make a scene. I simply committed the moment to memory. I told myself not to look back or forgive. Then I opened the invitation to Europe that had been sitting untouched in my inbox for months. On the final day before it expired, I accepted. From that moment on, the two things I treasured most—love and friendship—became nothing more than illusions.