2 Book(s) Related to stiorra

Betrayed. Three years of love dead in an instant. I walked in on Adrian fucking my stepsister Sophia in the parking garage—her legs wrapped around him, his BMW fogged and rocking, her smirk cruel and triumphant.

"Better than her?" she moaned.

"So much better," he grunted.

My world shattered. Then everything fell apart: my father framed, his suicide attempt, suffocating medical bills. Drunk and broken, I let Sebastian—a cold, dominant billionaire—take me hard.

Next morning, a six-month contract: he erases my debts, saves my father, and I'm his property—his to own, his to fuck, whenever he pleases.

I thought it was just a deal, never expecting it hid a twenty-year bond. By day, a cold, untouchable Wall Street tycoon. By night, feral, insatiable, rough yet worshipful—consumed by a decades-long obsession.

He destroys my enemies, uncovers every lie, keeps me locked in his grip. When he drives into me, deep and relentless, his voice ragged against my neck: "I've been searching for you for twenty years, Emma. This cunt is mine. This body is mine. Every fucking breath you take belongs to me. Don't you dare run."

This deal-born possession—ruin or fate? The truth hits: he's loved me all along, waited, burned, just to claim me completely.

I flicked my gaze up toward her, and she grinned down at me. She tipped the wine glass back and downed the entire contents in two gulps. Was she trying to get trashed?

Genevieve’s hand on the back of the chair slipped, her eyes widening as she began to fall.

I hadn’t moved that fast in ages.

I swooped in and wrapped my arm around her waist to hold her up. In doing so, though, the robe twisted in my grasp and opened further, Genevieve’s bralette the only thing standing in my way of seeing her beautiful body.

It took every ounce of willpower to drag my eyes back up to her face where she watched me carefully. There was a drunken sheen to her eyes, but her face was a beet red. It was more than the alcohol. I knew this because she averted her gaze and pressed her trembling lips together. She was embarrassed. It was fucking adorable.

“I’m sorry,” she breathed out.

“Maybe you’ve had enough for tonight.”

Genevieve nodded softly, still refusing to look at me.

“Maybe I’ll go to bed.”

Genevieve Blake was a well-known, almost famous, erotic romance author. She enjoyed meeting her fans and writing stories that made even her blush. What she hadn't planned on, though, was for a stalker to come out from the shadows and threaten her life. When the police can't do anything, she turns to Grim Security to protect her against the deranged lunatic. But who's going to protect her heart, and her body, from the intensity of Raphael Bard?