"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.
Yelena discovered that she wasn't her parents' biological child. After seeing through their ploy to trade her as a pawn in a business deal, she was sent away to her barren birthplace. There, she stumbled upon her true origins—a lineage of historic opulence. Her real family showered her with love and adoration. In the face of her so-called sister's envy, Yelena conquered every adversity and took her revenge, all while showcasing her talents. She soon caught the attention of the city's most eligible bachelor. He cornered Yelena and pinned her against the wall. “It's time to reveal your true identity, darling.”
"Ahh!" She was in a moaning mess. She did not want to feel anything for this man. She hated him. His hands began to move all over her body. She gasped when he pulled down the back chain of her dress. The chain stopped at her lower waist, so when he zipped it off, her upper back and waist were exposed. "D-Don't touch m-ummm!" His fingers rolled around her bare back, and she pressed her head against the pillow. His touches were giving her goosebumps all over her body. With a deep angry voice, he whispered in her ear, "I am going to make you forget his touches, kisses, and everything. Every time you touch another man, you will only think of me." - - - Ava Adler was a nerdy omega. People bullied her because they thought she was ugly and unattractive. But Ava secretly loved the bad boy, Ian Dawson. He was the future Alpha of the Mystic Shadow Pack. However, he doesn't give a damn about rules and laws, as he only likes to play around with girls. Ava was unaware of Ian's arrogance until her fate intertwined with his. He neglected her and hurt her deeply. What would happen when Ava turned out to be a beautiful girl who could win over any boy, and Ian looked back and regretted his decisions? What if she had a secret identity that she had yet to discover? What if the tables turned and Ian begged her not to leave him?
On the day of their wedding anniversary, Joshua's mistress drugged Alicia, and she ended up in a stranger's bed. In one night, Alicia lost her innocence, while Joshua's mistress carried his child in her womb. Heartbroken and humiliated, Alicia demanded a divorce, but Joshua saw it as yet another tantrum. When they finally parted ways, she went on to become a renowned artist, sought out and admired by everyone. Consumed by regret, Joshua darkened her doorstep in hopes of reconciliation, only to find her in the arms of a powerful tycoon. "Say hello to your sister-in-law."
After three loveless years, Neil's betrayal deeply wounded Katelyn. She wasted no time in getting rid of that scoundrel! After the divorce, she devoted herself to career pursuits. Rising to prominence as a top designer, skilled doctor, and brilliant hacker, she became a revered icon. Neil, realizing his grave mistake, tried in vain to win her back, only to witness her magnificent wedding to another. As their vows were broadcast on the world's largest billboard, Vincent slid a ring onto Katelyn's finger and declared, "Katelyn is now my wife, a priceless treasure. Let all who covet her beware!"
Corinne devoted three years of her life to her boyfriend, only for it to all go to waste. He saw her as nothing more than a country bumpkin and left her at the altar to be with his true love. After getting jilted, Corinne reclaimed her identity as the granddaughter of the town’s richest man, inherited a billion-dollar fortune, and ultimately rose to the top. But her success attracted the envy of others, and people constantly tried to bring her down. As she dealt with these troublemakers one by one, Mr. Hopkins, notorious for his ruthlessness, stood by and cheered her on. “Way to go, honey!”
Rachel used to think that her devotion would win Brian over one day, but she was proven wrong when his true love returned. Rachel had endured it all—from standing alone at the altar to dragging herself to the hospital for an emergency treatment. Everyone thought she was crazy to give up so much of herself for someone who didn’t return her feelings. But when Brian received news of Rachel’s terminal illness and realized she didn’t have long to live, he completely broke down. "I forbid you to die!" Rachel just smiled. She no longer needed him. "I will finally be free."