Elira lay perfectly still on the bed, body aching, muscles screaming from the night before. Every inch of her skin carried his mark—red handprints bruised into her breasts, love-bites darkening her throat, her thighs trembling from his merciless claiming. She heard everything—his fight with Rohan, the venomous words, the humiliation he threw at his son—but when the door slammed and his heavy footsteps returned, she pressed her eyes shut, feigning sleep.
The thin blanket clung to her curves. So thin that Ehraaz could see the outline of her hardened nipple beneath it. He smirked darkly, knowing her act.
My goal is to create stories that burn with passion, forbidden desire, and raw intimacy—stories that make readers feel every heartbeat, every breath, every sinful touch. I want my work to reach people who crave the kind of love that’s dangerous, addictive, and unforgettable. With your support, I can continue to grow, write more unapologetically erotic worlds, and share them with readers who ache for that same intensity.
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