Showing results for "lilith ember"

Jude Navarro has been a night member at The Torque for eleven days when he decides the platform is still his after closing. Five-fifty on the deadlift. The lights stay on. The front door is already locked.Cassian Okoye and Theo Lang own the private strength gym in the converted machine shop three blocks off the waterfront. One is massive, silent, and absolute—deep brown skin, silver at the temples, the kind of gravity that pulls the entire room toward him. The other is rangy, freck...

Jules Navarro came to Station 9 to get off a city engine and out from under a lieutenant who wanted him quiet. Captain Malcolm Okoye does not do quiet. He is bigger, older, silver at the temples, and he has been watching the new man repack the crosslay since day two.After a canyon brush fire, the rest of the house goes home. The bay door stays up on the chief's order. The alley is empty until it isn't. What starts on the concrete beside Engine 9 is explicit, filthy, and nowhere in ...

Elias Soto stays late at The Provenance to finish hanging the final pieces in the private viewing suite. The night staff has already gone. The outer doors are locked. The only other person left in the building is Dominic Reyes, the security director who walks the empty galleries like he owns the silence.Dominic is massive, deliberate, and absolute—deep bronze skin, salt at the temples, a scar through one brow that never softens his stare. He finds Elias still on the ladder, sleeves...

She was hired to design their private floor. They decided to keep her.Aria Sinclair takes the job at The Obsidian—an exclusive members-only club with unfinished private suites and two owners who watch her work like they already know how the story ends. Lucien Kane is controlled, precise, and devastatingly intense. Cassian Holt is warmer, filthier with his mouth, and just as possessive. Together they are a problem Aria never planned for.Late nights turn into shared showers, ...

After the last tenant leaves and the lobby lights drop to night mode, Elias Navarro takes the private service car up to kill the mechanical lights. Declan Shaw is already inside. The building owner is thick through the chest and thighs, freckled and auburn, and done pretending the nights are only work. The override comes off. The camera goes dark. The car stops between floors.What follows is raw, explicit, and unapologetic: oral against the mirror, anal with Elias braced on the rai...

Amara thought her life couldn't get any harder. A struggling artist on the brink of giving up, she was desperate for a chance to prove her worth—until she stumbled into an exclusive auction that would change everything. Instead of selling her art, she found herself sold. Not as a piece of artwork, but as the prize.And the man who bought her? Gabriel Cross, the enigmatic billionaire with a reputation darker than his suits and a gaze that could strip her bare.From the moment ...

She touched a cursed reliquary. Now she owes forty nights to the most dangerous court in existence — and the two men who run it.Mira Voss has spent seven years authenticating the impossible for the highest bidders in London. She knows exactly what priceless things are worth. She didn't know the small silver vessel she touched at auction would bind her soul to a vampire lord's court — or that refusing wasn't an option.Vasile Crain has ruled Blackmere Keep for six centuries. ...

The clinic is over. The storm is not. Maren Solberg stayed for one last hoof at Loose Rein, a private high-desert cutting ranch, and the two men who watched her work all weekend are done pretending the looks were professional.Idris Cole owns the place: heavy, quiet, silver at the temple, the kind of careful that turns filthy once the last trailer leaves. Sasha Petrov, the ranch vet, is leaner, sharper, and already on his knees when a guest walks back for a forgotten halter. The ais...

Leila Nazari buys the quiet house on the edge of town for the solitude. The back lot ends at a weathered cedar fence and a shared utility easement the county calls a right-of-way. The brush is overgrown. The posts lean. She does not expect the neighbor who walks through the gap like he owns the path.Javier Sosa is thick, copper-skinned, salt already in the goatee, the kind of man who has worked the same land for eleven years and does not waste words. He comes to talk about fire sea...

Nine months of her hands on his shoulder. One rule she helped write. One empty arena after midnight.Nadia Ferreira is thirty-one, the first woman ever to run the Bramford Ironclads' treatment room, and nobody on the roster has ever seen her flustered. Tonight she traded the team-issue black for wine-red satin: a floor-length wrap gown with a plunge she cannot honestly defend, spaghetti straps, red lipstick, hazel eyes, warm golden-bronze skin, long glossy dark-brown waves spilling ...

Chioma Adeyemi keeps the lights low and the door unlocked after hours at Stillpoint Recovery. Luca Moretti walks in every Tuesday and Friday, the only client who knows exactly what the unlocked keypad means. What starts as a late session on the treatment table becomes something that does not stay on the table. Her mouth on him while she fingers herself on the stool. His cock in her throat, then in her cunt, then in her ass, while the night cleaner's cart is still somewhere down the hall. H...

One mountain inn. One room booked twice. One hot spring that belongs to him after eleven.Kenji Morioka is thirty-eight, half Japanese, a former international rugby lock who came home to the Japanese Alps to keep his grandmother's hundred-year-old inn from falling down. He is six foot four of broad shoulders and hard muscle, warm golden-olive skin, short black beard, and a charcoal yukata he never bothers to close. Every night, when the last guest has gone to bed, the lantern-lit ou...