"You're a creepy bastard." His eyes smolder me and his answering grin is nothing short of beautiful. Deadly. "Yet you hunger for me. Tell me, this appetite of yours, does it always tend toward 'creepy bastards'?" **** Widower and ex-boss to the Mafia, Zefiro Della Rocca, has an unhealthy fixation on the woman nextdoor. It began as a coincidence, growing into mere curiosity, and soon, it was an itch he couldn't ignore, like a quick fix of crack for an addict. He didn't know her name, but he knew every inch of her skin, how it flushed when she climaxed, her favourite novel and that every night she contemplated suicide. He didn't want to care, despising his rapt fascination of the woman. She was in love with her abusive husband. She was married, bound by a contract to the Bratva's hitman. She was off-limits. But when Zefiro wanted something, it was with an intensity that bordered on madness. He obsessed, possessed, owned. There'd be bloodshed if he touched her, but the sight of blood always did fascinate him. * When Susanna flees from her husband, she stumbles right into the arms of her devilishly handsome neighbour with a brooding glare. He couldn't stand her, but she needed him, if she was ever going to escape her husband who now wanted her dead. Better the devil you know than the angel you don't. She should have recalled that before hopping into Zefiro's car and letting him whisk her away to Italy. Maybe then, she wouldn't have started an affair with him. He was the only man who touched her right, and the crazy man took no small pains in ensuring he would be the last.
Zefiro
I didn't know her name, but I knew every inch of her body. I knew what she looked like when she came-heart shaped lips parted, nostrils flared, cheeks flush with color and sweat, grey doe eyes crossed...and on some occasions, rolled back in her head, her back arched, her nipples hard and glistening with saliva, and more importantly, there was something about her long, black hair clinging to her sweaty skin, to the odd but sexy dip in her hip that made me want to masturbate.
I didn't know his name either, but he fucked her a lot. And hit her a lot. She took each beating as perfectly as she took his dick in her mouth-like a good girl, but I wondered if he saw the hate that flashed in her eyes sometimes. I wondered if he saw how many times her gaze flicked to the hammer she kept at the top of her dresser every time he slapped her.
She never left the house. He never let her. They fought too many times on that issue, loud enough to stir me from sleep. She wanted to see the world. She wanted more than being locked up in her room daily, only let out when he wanted to fuck her in a different place-say the sitting room with ceiling to floor windows that I could see through without even trying. Too many times, he'd pressed her against that window, and he has no fucking idea how erotic it is to see her in those red heels, nipples flush against the window panes as he fucked her from behind.
It isn't that I want to watch her-I am forced to. I could be waking early in the morning and the first sight that greets me as I push the curtains back is that of her naked body as she exits the shower. Wet. Dripping. There are days when I wonder if she knows I live here. If she puts on these shows for me. But I've only been here for two months and she's never up when I leave for work. Or when I return.
There was something about the way she peered out the windows at night, like she could see the entire world from there. The yearning. The frustration. She cried sometimes. Other times, she merely drank until she passed out. But...there were times she laid in her bed, bunched up her favorite nightdress-an ivory, translucent material that barely covered her plump ass-parts her legs, and slips her favorite toy-a purple vibrator about six inches long-into her pussy, her small hands fondling her breasts. I could almost hear her moans. I could almost taste and smell her.
Often times than not, I dreamed of her. And when I woke, I went straight to the shower and took a freezing cold bath.
I didn't know anything about her, but I've never wanted anyone so bad.
She read a lot of books. She smiled only when she read. I'd never seen her with a phone. Or friends. She was like a bird in a cage. One that wished to fly but had no wings to. Her legs kicked back and forth and she would often toss the books, covering her lips as she squealed excitedly, bouncing up and down her bed before she resumed reading with a maddening smile etched on that fucking mouth. And forgive me for staring at her ass as she bounced. It was the part of her body that tortured me the most.
And she walked about in her panties or none at all.
I'm not obsessed with her. Neither do I have sick thoughts about her-I don't consider them sick. I don't watch her unless I have to. Because I get frightened for her. She keeps a bottle of pills on her nightstand. I don't know what they are, but too many times, after a terrible fight with her husband that ended with her face blackened and bleeding, she stared at them. Held them as she cried alone. And then, she'd set them back on the nightstand and sleep like a child.
I get frightened that I may one day wake and she would no longer have a smile. Or life.
But none of that matters. She isn't mine. She is my neighbor's wife and off-limits.
For as long as Emily can remember, she has wanted to overcome her shyness and explore her sexuality. Still, everything changes when she receives an invitation to visit one of the town's most prestigious BDSM clubs, DESIRE'S DEN. On the day she chose to peruse the club, she noticed three men, all dressed in suits, standing on the upper level, near the railing. Despite her limited vision, she persisted in fixating on them. Their towering statues belied the toned bodies concealed by their sharply tailored suits-or so she could tell. The hair of two of them was short and dark, and the third had light brown-possibly blond-hair that reached the shoulders. The dark, crimson background incised their figures, exuding an air of mystery and strength. They stood in stark contrast to the unfiltered, primal energy that pulsed through the club. Shocked by the desires these men aroused in her, she was disappointed to learn that they were masters seeking a slave to divide and conquer. She couldn't afford the fee, and she also realized that they were outside her league. Emily hurriedly left the club, feeling disappointed and depressed, unaware that she had also caught the group's attention. A world of wicked pleasure, three handsome men. Over the years, they have lived a life of decadence, their lavish lair serving as a stage for their most sinister desires. But despite the unending parade of willing subjects, one woman sticks out. A mysterious stranger with white porcelain skin and a killer body, a slave, a name with no address, the first lady to attract their eye and they will go to any length to obtain her no matter the consequences.
Two years ago, Ricky found himself coerced into marrying Emma to protect the woman he cherished. From Ricky's perspective, Emma was despicable, resorting to underhanded schemes to ensure their marriage. He maintained a distant and cold attitude toward her, reserving his warmth for another. Yet, Emma remained wholeheartedly dedicated to Ricky for more than ten years. As she grew weary and considered relinquishing her efforts, Ricky was seized by a sudden fear. Only when Emma's life teetered on the edge, pregnant with Ricky's child, did he recognize-the love of his life had always been Emma.
Looking at the divorce papers my lips curled up into a mocking smile. 'How big fool I am? How can I think that he will give a chance to this marriage? How can I forget that I was nothing more a tool in his eyes to vent his anger until his beloved Tara is back. Since, she was back, how can he let me stay there?' "After you will sign these papers, you will receive 100 million dollars as alimony." the lawyer added. Because of his words, I came back to my senses took the pen from him, and signed the name. I have also gotten exhausted from this marriage both physically and mentally. Even though I had wanted my child to be born into a complete family, I didn't want my child to have a stepmother and live miserably like me for the rest of his life. After taking the papers from my hand, the lawyer gave me the bank card, turned around, and was about to leave when he paused at the door. He then turned around and added, "Mr. Carter said that he hoped that you won't pester him, or you have to bear the consequences." The lawyer's words were like a knife stabbing in my heart, but I still nodded. Anyway, I also don't plan to have anything to do with him anymore. I just want to live a good life with my children. After the lawyer left, the ward fell into silence. I placed my hand on my belly and said to my children, "Baby, I am sorry, Mommy can't give you a complete family! But I promise you, I will do my best to give the love of both mother and father." 'As for giving one of my child, I will never do that. They are my babies and my alone. I and I will give birth to all of them and raise them no matter what.' Four Years Later... Anya came back to the country with her three kids, to inherit the company left by his grandfather...
Sheila had her back against the wall when her family tried to force her to marry an awful old man. In a fit of rage, she hired a gigolo to act as her husband. She thought the gigolo needed money and did this for a living. Little did she know that he was nothing like that. One day, he pulled off his mask and revealed himself to be the world's top magnate. This marked the beginning of their love. He showered her with everything she could ever want. They were happy. However, unexpected circumstances soon posed a threat to their love. Would Sheila and her husband make it through the storm? Find out!
Rumors said that Lucas married an unattractive woman with no background. In the three years they were together, he remained cold and distant to Belinda, who endured in silence. Her love for him forced her to sacrifice her self-worth and her dreams. When Lucas' true love reappeared, Belinda realized that their marriage was a sham from the start, a ploy to save another woman's life. She signed the divorce papers and left. Three years later, Belinda returned as a surgical prodigy and a maestro of the piano. Lost in regret, Lucas chased her in the rain and held her tightly. "You are mine, Belinda."
Katie was forced to marry Dillan, a notorious ruffian. Her younger sister mocked her, "You're just an adopted daughter. Count your blessings for marrying him!" The world anticipated Katie's tribulations, but her married life unfurled with unexpected serenity. She even snagged a lavish mansion in a raffle! Katie jumped into Dillan's arms, credited him as her lucky charm. "No, Katie, it's you who brings me all this luck," Dillan replied. Then, one fateful day, Dillan's childhood friend came to her. "You're not worthy of him. Take this 50 million and leave him!" Katie finally grasped Dillan's true stature—the wealthiest man on the planet. That night, trembling with trepidation, she broached the subject of divorce with Dillan. However, with a domineering embrace, he told her, "I'd give you everything I have. Divorce is off the table!"