Christian was danger personified, a man carved from midnight with a smirk that could unravel a saint. Six-foot-three…

Pride warred with need, but the ache in my pussy was a living thing, pulsing with desperation. “Fuck…

I, Amber Mae, was no saint either. Twenty four, with curves that turned heads and a mind that…

Angelica had heard of these places before. Dark, mysterious, steady paced and loud. She has never had the…

The room was a crucible of unspoken promises, thick with the scent of polished leather and the faint…