Demi-Dean
18 Published Stories
Demi-Dean's Books and Stories
Daddy's Naughty Angel
Romance "Admit it, Daddy," Anna purrs sweetly, taking a step forward, her hands firm around her bare breasts. She stops in front of me and rubs her forefinger around my left nipple, the sexual tension between us making me swallow hard. I'm shirtless, hot, and I can feel blood rushing into my dick, making it press against my gym shorts. Anna drops her hand on it, stroking the cap through the fabric. I close my eyes, swallowing again. "You like this. You liked watching me."
"Anna..." I begin to say, but she shuts me up with a finger pressed lightly against my lips.
"Shh. Don't say anything. I'll do the talking, Daddy. For both of us. You'll just tell me how I'm doing. When it's time, okay?"
Hesitant, I nod slowly. But when she drops to her knees, my jaw drops. "Baby girl..."
"No talking, Daddy," she warns, drawing my gym shorts down till it pools around my ankles. My cock springs out - red, and hard, and pulsating. My cap is wet from precum, and when Anna wraps her mouth around it and sucks tenderly, I almost collapse from the ecstasy.
"Fuck!"
"Good," she smiles. "That's all the language we'll need."
----
Warning: 18+ only. Featuring hardcore taboo and age-gap mature stories.
This is a boxset containing twelve stories of irresistible steam, steam, fun, and naughty stories. If you're not up to eighteen, this book is not for you.
Get ready to be intrigued. To feel. To...sin.
Luna Of The North
Werewolf I've never been lucky.
I lost my parents at a young age to false treason claims against the Redwood Pack. My cruel uncle Storm assumed my father's role of Alpha in the Pack, and ever since he became Alpha, my life has been a living hell.
When he brings news of the Northern Alpha King hosting a ball to pick his Luna of the North, he charges me to act as a spy for him. Gather Intel on the runnings of the Northern Pack and bring it to him.
Failure to do so?
He'll have my head.
When I meet Alpha King Elijah Lahiz, King of the North, under weird circumstances, the mate bond snaps into place, and we're bonded to each other. However, after a night of passion, Elijah acts like I don't exist and picks my best friend, Raya, as his Luna.
Distraught and feeling betrayed, I run away to the South and into the patient arms of the Southern King Jeremiah, to escape my uncle's wrath. Jeremiah proposes an alliance to take down both my uncle and Elijah.
But there's a problem. A huge one, really.
I'm carrying Alpha Elijah's child. Mated To The Cursed Lycan King
Werewolf Some think I'm cursed. Others think I'm unlucky.
But I know what I am.
My name is Leora, and I am the Redwood Pack's Alpha's daughter. Well, until my mother died.
My father remarried late, so the Pack moved on to new hands. My new stepmother, Amarie, is a spawn of Satan. She gives me to the new Alpha's household as a maidservant as a price for not exiling my father. I become an outcast, abused and punished every single day.
On my eighteenth birthday, I find out that I'm mated to the new Alpha's son, Caleb. Enraged, he rejects me, throwing me into the dungeons. In pains, I remain there for days. Then one fateful night, my luck changes.
The Lycan King is visiting the Pack to find a mate.
Which happens to be me.
I'm alone, crying that night, when a towering golden-eyed man charges in and rips the dungeon doors off their hinges. I gasp when he cups my chin, and whispers softly. "Stop crying, mate. I'm here now. And I'll make sure no one ever brings you to tears ever again!"
I thought my problems were over then.
But it was only the beginning. Touch Me, Daddy [Forbidden Ties Sensual Collection]
Romance Warning: 18+ only. Featuring hardcore taboo and age-gap erotica.
This is an erotic boxset containing fifteen stories of irresistible steam, fun, and naughty stories. If you're not up to eighteen, this book is not for you.
Get ready to be intrigued. To feel. To...burn.
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"Now, let's discuss your shorts." A big hand slips under the blanket and glides down my knees to my innermost thighs, a finger finding my pussy, and sinking in. "You are a naughty, naughty girl. Did you wear this to torture me? Answer me."
"Yes," I manage after two gulped breaths. "I wore it for you." With no panties. Everything bare.
"You want me that bad, Theresa? You want me worked up, right? Feral, agitated, hopelessly turned on, huh?"
My lips part as he shifts the stethoscope, listening to my heart pound as I answer. "Y-yes."
"Say it. I want to hear every word."
"I wore shorts to turn you on, Dr Storm. Every time." Excitement flourishes in my stomach, and I ride it like a tidal wave. "I wore it so you could..."
He waits, bristling with impatience as I trail off. A muscle leaps in his jaw, and his whole sculpted body is tense beneath me. "So I could what, Theresa? So I could what?"
The silence is so loud, the tension so thick, his eyes so intense, so needy to hear the words, I feel my toes curl.
"So, you could put your hand up there, Dr Storm. So, you could touch me."
The Devil Wants Me
Mafia "Lovely, Cara," he whispers, licking and kissing my clit.
I'm twitching, shaking, back arched-
He reaches down and picks up the champagne bottle, pouring out the liquid on my body. I gasp at the sudden bubbling cold.
I try to wriggle away but he holds me down and sucks the champagne, licking me clean, making these filthy delighted noises as he does it.
"I couldn't help myself. You taste too good."
-
Fed up with her abusive husband, twenty-three-year-old Cara Hellington runs away from home and ends up in a notorious bar, destitute, sad, but relieved and free. When she gets into a verbal altercation with the snotty bartender over the ownership of her credit cards, an unlikely savior comes to her aid.
Eros Kazan Alfred.
He's tall, massive, rippling with muscles, and covered with dark tattoos.
Everything Cara is not used to.
Everything Cara is drawn to.
She should run towards the opposite direction, away from him. But she runs right onto his bed.
After a hot sizzling night together, Cara is comfortable and confident in him taking good care of her. But tensions are rising all around them, as significant figures from their past will stop at nothing to bring them both down.
Will they succumb under the wickedly twisted circumstances fate seems to be throwing at them? Resisting The Playboy's Charm
Billionaires Carol:
Life was never a bed of roses. At least for me. Abandoned at birth by both parents, and made to go through too many foster homes, I had to put in twice the amount of effort of my peers. Both in education, and in my career. I love children, and I've aspired to land a very good job as a social worker who cares for kids for as long as I can remember.
When New York's most eligible bachelor and billionaire Evans Armstrong propositions me to become a nanny for his nephew, I'm speechless. Out of every options he had available, he choose me. And his nephew is the sweetest boy I've ever encountered. Maybe, just maybe I can achieve my dreams after all.
Evans:
Life was never the same ever since my sister Serena died, leaving me with her son Brandon. Each day that passes, I strive to be a better man, and provide for Brandon everything he needs. He's a smart kid, and he deserves the best. Which is why I go out of my way in searching for a suitable nanny to tend to him, since my efforts can only go so far.
When I see Carolina for the first time, she's striking. And her polite demeanor has a ripple effect on young Brandon. I know immediately that she's the right one for him.
She would make a wonderful nanny.
And perhaps, a wonderful wife. All For You, Daddy [Forbidden Desires Sensual Collection]
Romance Warning: 18+ only. Featuring hardcore taboo and age-gap erotica.
This is an erotic boxset containing yet another twelve stories of irresistible steam, steam, fun, and naughty stories. If you're not up to eighteen, this book is not for you.
Get ready to be intrigued. To feel. To...burn.
---------
"You think I'm a softie?" My voice is deceptively gentle when the rest of me is so hard. "Do you know why I pulled over?"
"Why?" she says, seeming to hold her breath.
Don't you dare. She's innocent. I say the words, anyway, however. I want to drive her away. Now. She caught me with my walls down and that is the ultimate invasion, made worse because I crave it happening again. "I pulled over because I know tight pussy when I see it." I frame her jaw with my right hand, tilting her blushing face up toward mine. "I'd like to fuck you on all fours, right here in the middle of the road, little girl. Rough as you can stand. Still think I'm a softie?"
"No," she gasps, the green of her eyes deepening to a forest shade. "I don't."
I ignore the regret stabbing me in the neck. "Good." Daddy's Naughty Girl [Forbidden Fruit Sensual Collection]
Romance Warning: 18+ only. Featuring hardcore taboo and age-gap erotica.
This is an erotic boxset containing twelve stories of irresistible steam, steam, fun, and naughty stories. If you're not up to eighteen, this book is not for you.
Get ready to be intrigued. To feel. To...sin.
----------
“I made myself tight for Big Daddy,” she leans up and whispers in my ear. “Every morning and night, I clenched it really tight, released, clenched, released…”
As she says the words, her pussy performs the actions until I’m panting into the space between us, shudders wracking my body.
“FUCK,” I growl, sparks blinking in front of my vision. “You’re going to get it now, little girl.”
All I can do after that is make her lose her mind.
That’s the only way to define it.
I shove her legs open on the bed and do exactly as I threaten. I rail her like a dog, slamming my cock in and out of her wet blonde cunt. She screams and claws at me, begging me not to stop, rocking her hips up to meet my hectic drives, my grunts loud enough to be heard in the room next door, along with her calls of my name—and in this moment, I want that. I want everyone in this hotel to know I get to fuck this supple nineteen-year-old. I want them to know she primed her pussy for me so it would be extra snug. And I can’t believe my luck. Whether I’m paying or not, I can’t believe she’s allowing my big, hairy body on top of her smooth, tiny one for a single second. That she’s not only spreading her legs for me, but she’s also moaning with pleasure, not put off by my aggression at all. No, it’s making her hot.
“Harder, Big Daddy. Punish me.”
I’m not sure how I stop myself from ejaculating. Maybe it’s the intense need to stay locked inside her perfection for as long as possible, but somehow, I hold back. Long enough to pull out of Lia and flip her face down, yanking her hips up and back into my lap. I re=enter her with my purpling cock, our flesh slapping madly as I raw dog her from behind, employing not a hint of gentleness. She doesn't want gentleness, either. Not my girl. She tilts her hips back and asks for it harder. Faster. Billionaire's Baby Project
Billionaires When her hot, overbearing, but charming boss gets a hold of her diary, and offers to grant her greatest wish for a child, Twenty-two-year-old Felicity Graham is furious, and hesitant.
For one, he's her employer.
Two, she wonders if he truly loves her, or if his offer is just based on his father's pressure on him to produce a heir.
—
Cold, reclusive Shawn Colby has hit a dead end. Undeniably Chicago's most eligible bachelor and a well-known business tycoon, he could have anything his heart desired. Women, cars, numerous houses if he wanted.
When his overbearing father demands that he settle down and produce an heir, Shawn can't think of anyone else but Felicity — his calm, sweet personal assistant.
When he gets hold of Felicity's diary, and finds out that her greatest dream is to have a child of her own, he propositions her. But Felicity is furious, and hesitant. Besides being Shawn's assistant, she's close to his family as well, and is aware of the pressure he's under to bring forth a heir.
What happens when a business trip up-turns their lives? Can Shawn prove that he truly loves her for her, pressure aside? Devil Of A Boss
Billionaires
New York's most eligible bachelor, Norman Rockwell has everything he could ever as for. Wealth, power, an insane amount of women falling at his feet, and peace of mind.
But he's lacking something. One thing his heart desires so much.
A baby. An heir. One he would leave everything he's worked for when he dies.
He's been with so many women, and none are suitable. None have that flourish, that demeanor of being a mother. They're all after his money. After his dick.
All except Sasha, his red-headed, smoking-hot, no-nonsense PA.
She's the only one who could rein him in. Keep him in control. Make him smile. But she's not new to the array of beautiful women who normally grace his office. Convincing her to be his won't be easy, but he's willing to conquer her heart.
No matter what it takes.
She must be the mother of his child. He would have no other woman, but her.
The Mafia's Crazy Obsession
Billionaires "I think you enjoyed at least part of your punishment last night, sweetheart."
"No," I whispered, my voice barely audible, my eyes still on his hand, on his fingers as they drew small circles that made my toes curl on my exposed, sensitive skin.
He moved closer to me, making a small gasp push past my lips as I looked up, our gazes colliding.
"Relax. Do you know what the fun part is, Lana? It doesn't always have to be a punishment. It could be something... exciting too. Something you'll most definitely like."
—
To save her entire family from the Stravkos Mafia - which was the most powerful Mafia family in Tuscany, Italy - Then sixteen-year old Solana Williams agrees to take her sister's place and becomes a sacrificial lamb - becoming Abel Stravkos' wife.
Theirs is just a mere marriage of convenience, but now older, wiser and twenty-three, Solana vows revenge for all they did to her family by making Abel's life a living nightmare.
Abel Stravkos does not need a wife, but with his cold-hearted father handling the helm of affairs, he's helpless to object. His heart isn't tied to this strange, beautiful, vengeful woman who's been forced down his throat. But the line between love and hate is thin, and Solana's staunch disobedience to his orders fuels his need to control her in every way possible.
Driven by revenge, and an undeniable passion sizzling just beneath the surface, it's only a matter of time before their attraction for each other becomes apparent, much to the dismay of his father as well as both internal and external forces trying to pull them apart.
Will they ever rise above obstacles lodged in their paths and get their happily-ever-after? The Mafia Don's Captive
Billionaires "I'll do anything!" she pleads, grabbing my hands. "I'll do anything. Just let him go. He made a mistake."
"That's not an excuse. It was a costly mistake."
"Please. I'll do anything you want. Anything at all."
I let the silence hang in the air between us as I think carefully, my eyes drawn to how firm and full her tits are. "Anything, princess?"
She lets go of my hands and straightens, raising her chin. I watch as she swallows nervously. "Y-Yes. Anything at all."
I raise my fingers to her face, smearing my thumbs with her tears. I trail them down her strong jaw, to her throat, over the small hollow between her collarbones, the skin of her chest, stopping between her tits. I circle the spot quietly while she holds her breath, perhaps in anticipation.
"Would you let me fuck you, Titania?"
—
Fiesty, yet innocent Titania Williams is best known for being at the wrong place at the wrong time, and this time she's getting more than she bargained for. When her dear Uncle Patrick betrays one of the most powerful Mafia Lords in New York, Kristoff Stavkros, Titania is caught unexpectedly in the underworld web of crimes and deceit. To save her uncle's life, she makes Kristoff an offer.
She'll be his for a month. Thirty days, he owns her body.
Stupid, right? But Titania plays by the rules.
But how can she come out victorious when Kristoff keeps changing the rules and is hell-bent on making her his forever? You might like
From Jilted Bride To Mafia Empress
Xiao Wang For seven years, I was the architect of my fiancé's criminal empire and the strategist behind his every move. I was Dante Gallo’s unofficial Consigliere, his partner in everything but name. Tomorrow, I was finally supposed to marry him and take my place as the queen to his throne.
But on the eve of our wedding, a single text message sent by mistake detonated my life. It was a photo from Dante, showing a platinum wedding band on his hand. The message read: “Married this morning. She’s safe now.”
My gaze fell to the engagement ring on my own finger. It was the identical band, just smaller. The engraved initials ‘D.I.’ didn’t stand for Dante and I. They stood for Dante and Isabella—his childhood sweetheart. My entire relationship was a lie; I was just a shield to protect his one true love.
He dismissed my discovery as a "tantrum." Then, his new bride began taunting me, sending a picture of them tangled in bedsheets with the caption: "Loser." They expected me to break. They thought I would shatter.
They were about to find out just how wrong they were. I forwarded the picture to Isabella’s fiancé, a man far more dangerous than Dante. "Your fiancée is in Suite 8808 at the Grand Hyatt," I told him. "I'll meet you downstairs. We're going to crash their party." Rejected by the Son, I Chose the Don
Rabbit On my wedding day, my father sold me to the Chicago Outfit to pay his debts. I was supposed to marry Alex Moreno, the heir to the city's most powerful crime family. But he couldn't even be bothered to show up.
As I stood alone at the altar, humiliated, my best friend delivered the final blow. Alex hadn't just stood me up; he had run off to California with his mistress.
The whispers in the cathedral turned me into a joke. I was damaged goods, the rejected bride. His family knew the whole time and let me take the public fall, offering me his cousins as pathetic replacements-a brute who hated me or a coward who couldn't protect me.
The humiliation burned away my fear, leaving only cold rage. My life was already over, so I decided to set the whole game on fire myself. The marriage pact only said a Carlson had to marry a Moreno; it never said which one.
With nothing left to lose, I looked past the pathetic boys they offered.
I chose the one man they never expected.
I chose his father, the Don himself.
A Devil's Deal With Mafia Tycoon
Grey Pen I found out my husband of three years had cheated on me and his mistress is the one who told me-because he didn't have the balls to do it himself.
I move out and get a new apartment, a job as a bartender, and try to move on with a broken heart. I wonder where it all went wrong, if I hadn't been enough for him, if I'd been stupid for marrying him in the first place.
I'm at work one night when he walks inside-the most beautiful man I've ever seen. He sits at the bar and a forest fire burns between us. I was depressed the moment before he entered, but the second I look at his blue eyes, I forget the dumpster fire that my life has become. I invite him back to my place and it's the most passionate night of my life. I expect to never see him again.
I just want him as an anti-depressant-but he wants me all to himself. I just got my heart ripped out of my chest so I want something easy and no-strings-attached, but he wants all the strings because he's hooked.
I don't get much of a say in the matter, and that's not surprising when I learn why-because he's the Butcher. The crime lord of all crime lords, the boss that overshadows all of Paris, that makes everyone abide by his rules-or pay.
And now I'm his.
You Called Me Barren, Mr. Sterile Don
Gong Zi On my birthday, my husband Dante asked for a divorce over a plate of cold lasagna.
He held my hand, tears in his eyes, and told me his mistress was pregnant.
"It’s a miracle, Elena," he wept. "God has finally given me a son."
He looked at me with pity, calling me "broken" because I hadn't given him an heir in eight years.
He moved his pregnant mistress into the penthouse I paid for, and his mother mocked me as a "dry vine" while cooking tonic soups for the new woman.
They didn't know the truth I had buried three years ago.
I remembered the day the doctor slid the file across the desk: *Azoospermia. Zero sperm count.*
Dante was the sterile one.
I had burned the results to protect his fragile ego as a Mafia Don. I took the blame. I drank his mother's vile herbal poisons every morning until I vomited, just to keep his secret.
Now, he was discarding me for a "miracle" that was biologically impossible.
I signed the divorce papers without a tear.
Then I bought the debt of his company, put on a blood-red dress, and walked into his heir's Christening.
I didn't come to object.
I came to plug a USB drive into the projector and show the entire underworld exactly whose "miracle" that baby really was. The Underboss's Obsession: Stealing The Bride
Diversion Three days before the wedding.
I was hiding in the dressing room, watching my fiancé caress the swollen belly of another woman.
Luca, the man who had saved my life five years ago, was smiling at his mistress, Sofia. But the real knife to the heart wasn't the affair—it was the dress.
The custom wedding gown he had "lovingly" ordered for me featured intricate silver embroidery along the hem.
It didn't spell Elena.
It read Sofia.
He was planning to make me walk down the aisle wearing his mistress's name.
Later that night, I found a video of him mocking me to his crew, calling me a "dead fish" and admitting he only wanted my family's Capo status. He planned to keep his "true love" on the side while I played the role of the oblivious, ornamental wife.
He thought I was just a sheltered princess. He forgot that my bloodline was built on vengeance.
I didn't cry. I didn't confront him. Instead, I scrubbed his scent off my skin and dialed a number everyone in Chicago feared.
"The pact with the Cavallaro family," I asked my father, my voice cold as stone. "Is it still valid?"
"Dante is the Underboss now," my father warned. "He is a butcher. He breaks men for sport."
"Good," I replied. "I am done playing with boys."
I secretly booked the Gold Ballroom across the hall from my original venue. Luca thought he was walking into a marriage on Saturday.
He didn't know I was bringing a monster to the altar instead. Contract With The Devil: Love In Shackles
Dorine Koestler I watched my husband sign the papers that would end our marriage while he was busy texting the woman he actually loved.
He didn't even glance at the header. He just scribbled the sharp, jagged signature that had signed death warrants for half of New York, tossed the file onto the passenger seat, and tapped his screen again.
"Done," he said, his voice devoid of emotion.
That was Dante Moretti. The Underboss. A man who could smell a lie from a mile away but couldn't see that his wife had just handed him an annulment decree disguised beneath a stack of mundane logistics reports.
For three years, I scrubbed his blood out of his shirts. I saved his family's alliance when his ex, Sofia, ran off with a civilian.
In return, he treated me like furniture.
He left me in the rain to save Sofia from a broken nail. He left me alone on my birthday to drink champagne on a yacht with her. He even handed me a glass of whiskey—her favorite drink—forgetting that I despised the taste.
I was merely a placeholder. A ghost in my own home.
So, I stopped waiting. I burned our wedding portrait in the fireplace, left my platinum ring in the ashes, and boarded a one-way flight to San Francisco.
I thought I was finally free. I thought I had escaped the cage.
But I underestimated Dante.
When he finally opened that file weeks later and realized he had signed away his wife without looking, the Reaper didn't accept defeat.
He burned down the world to find me, obsessed with reclaiming the woman he had already thrown away. The Capo's Scarred Wife: A Vicious Comeback
Sofia Wade I was the Chicago Outfit's princess, and Luca and Matteo were my sworn protectors. We had mixed our blood at ten years old, promising that nothing would ever touch me.
But that oath turned to ash the night Sofia Ricci aimed a Roman candle at my chest.
The firework slammed into my shoulder, igniting my silk dress instantly. As I rolled on the concrete, screaming while the flames ate into my skin, I waited for my boys to save me.
They didn't.
Instead, I watched through the smoke as they rushed to Sofia. They wrapped their jackets—the ones meant to shield me—around the girl who had just set me on fire, comforting her because the "kickback" had scared her.
They let me burn to keep her warm.
When I woke up in the hospital with permanent scars, they brought me a letter of apology from her and defended her "accident." They even cut their palms to pay her debt, ignoring the fact that I was the one in bandages.
That was the moment Elena Vitiello died.
I didn't scream. I didn't beg. I simply packed my bags and defected to the one place they couldn't follow: the arms of Dante Moretti, the lethal Capo of New York.
By the time they realized their mistake and came crawling back to beg in the rain, I was already wearing another man's ring.
"You want forgiveness?" I asked, looking down at them.
"Burn for it." 
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