BDSM – Read Books Online Free Ebooks good best novels to read

BDSM – Read Books Online Free Ebooks good best novels to read http://www.books2020.com Sun, 16 Aug 2026 18:16:19 +0000 en-US hourly 1 https://wordpress.org/?v=7.0.4 http://www.books2020.com/wp-content/uploads/2020/09/favicon.png BDSM – Read Books Online Free Ebooks good best novels to read http://www.books2020.com 32 32 Daddy’s Trust – MC Daddies Read Online Laylah Roberts http://www.books2020.com/daddys-trust-mc-daddies-read-online-laylah-roberts Sun, 16 Aug 2026 18:16:19 +0000 https://www.books2020.com/daddys-trust-mc-daddies-read-online-laylah-roberts Genre: Alpha Male, BDSM, Contemporary, Erotic, Virgin Authors: Laylah Roberts Advertisement

Total pages in book: 159
Estimated words: 155775 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 779(@200wpm)___ 623(@250wpm)___ 519(@300wpm)

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When Addie gets separated from her sisters during a bar brawl, help comes from an unlikely person.
Cash Savage.
They’re total opposites. He’s bossy, protective, and ridiculously gorgeous.
She’s shy and struggles to talk when she gets anxious.
And she gets anxious a lot.
He’s completely out of her league. A dream she could never hope for.
However, when Addie and her sisters find themselves in danger, it’s Cash who volunteers to protect her.
It’s Cash who rocks her to sleep and makes sure she gets enough to eat.
And it’s Cash who puts everything on the line to keep her safe

*************FULL BOOK START HERE*************

1

Cash Savage was sick of his life.

He carried two boxes piled one on top of the other into the warehouse and set them down with a frown. On the side of the boxes, in Bonnie’s neat handwriting, was the word: Dinosaur.

What kind of dinosaurs?

Opening the top one, he saw that it was a mix of stuffed dinosaur toys. He drew out a Triceratops.

“Damn, this is soft and cute.”

“You like that one?” Ralen asked. “I thought your favorite dinosaur was the Argentinosaurus?”

“Well, yeah. It was known to be between fifty-two and sixty-five feet tall. And created so much waste that it probably killed smaller dinosaurs with it. I mean, can you imagine?”

“Being crushed by giant poo?” Ralen said dryly. “Not really.”

“You always were a T-Rex guy. Fuck, is this really how we want to be spending our Saturday night? Moving fucking boxes of new stock for LittleLand and talking about dinosaur poo?” He put the toy back in the box.

Ralen shrugged. “Doesn’t bother me. Isn’t like I’ve got anything better to do. What do you think AP stands for?”

Cash glanced over at the boxes his best friend had carried in.

They were more than friends.

They were brothers.

Cash would do anything for Ralen. But sometimes he wished he wasn’t quite so easygoing.

Of course, Ralen was only easygoing to a point. He could change his mood on a dime.

And watch out if you fucked him off or hurt someone he cared about. Because a furious Ralen could leave a trail of destruction in his wake. Kind of like Argentinosaurus—only he’d left a trail of poo in his wake.

“I don’t know,” Cash said. “Ageplay, I guess.”

Ralen opened the box and shook his head. “Nope.” He drew an item from a box. It was purple, and tapered at one end, with a flat base at the other. “Anal plugs.”

Cash had to grin. “Come on, let’s get the rest of these boxes in. When Dante said he needed a couple of guys to help watch over Bonnie, I wasn’t really expecting to spend my Saturday night hauling around boxes.”

Ralen shrugged. “Me neither. But I guess it’s better than dodging bullets or dealing with drunk assholes.”

Was it?

Sometimes Cash wasn’t so sure.

When they were finished unloading the truck into the warehouse out the back of Bonnie’s shop, he turned to his best friend. “I need a drink. I need to do . . . something.”

They were both in their late twenties, but sometimes Cash felt like he was much older. The things he’d seen and done over the years had aged him.

“We going to Reapers?” Ralen asked.

Reapers was the Iron Shadows bar. And it was where they spent a lot of their spare time. But he didn’t really feel like being surrounded by people he knew.

At one stage, he’d hoped to join the Iron Shadows; however Dante had put a stop to that. Dante didn’t think that Cash could remain loyal to him while being a member of the Iron Shadows.

Cash got it. Even if he didn’t like it.

Tonight, he didn’t need a reminder that he wasn’t part of that family.

“No, let’s just go to that place on the way home. What’s it called? Rabid Dog?”

“The one that usually closes down each night with a bar brawl?” Ralen asked.

“That’s the one.”

Ralen rubbed his hands together with glee. “Good. I was wondering when we’d get to have a drink there.”

Cash shook his head. He should’ve known that Ralen would be up for it.

After locking up the warehouse, they headed out and got into Cash’s pickup.

Maybe tonight was the night something interesting would happen.

2

“We are not going to another bar, Monroe.”

“Yes, we are!”

“No, we’re not. This is getting ridiculous. We’re in a strange city, searching for a man we barely know, and our only clue is that he told you he works at a bar in Billings. We’ve been to twenty bars so far and no one has heard of him!”

“Which means he might work at the ones we’re going to tonight!” Monroe replied, getting up into Dotty’s face. “And I do know him. He’s my husband!”

“Who you married on a drunken whim in Las Vegas. You hadn’t even known him a day.”

Monroe shrugged. “He was a good tipper.”

Dotty just gaped at Monroe. “And that’s a good reason to marry him?”

“Well, he was also cute and fun. Do you remember what fun is, Dotty?” Monroe asked, hands on her hips.

“No! Because I’m too busy taking care of you in order to have any fun!”

The words slapped back and forth between them, making Addie grow more and more tense. A large boulder filled her stomach and she grabbed hold of Snaggles, who was on the couch next to her. Holding him up, she ran his ear under her nose in an effort to soothe herself.

Addie hated it when Dotty and Monroe fought. And that’s all they seemed to be doing on this trip. Addie didn’t like being away from home. The house she shared with her sisters was her safe space. Where she never had to interact with anyone. And no one could scare or judge her.

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Advertisement Max’s Little Girl – Soldier Daddies Read Online Pepper North http://www.books2020.com/maxs-little-girl-soldier-daddies-read-online-pepper-north Sun, 16 Aug 2026 18:14:32 +0000 https://www.books2020.com/maxs-little-girl-soldier-daddies-read-online-pepper-north Genre: Alpha Male, BDSM, Erotic, Kink Authors: Pepper North Advertisement

Total pages in book: 54
Estimated words: 51210 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 256(@200wpm)___ 205(@250wpm)___ 171(@300wpm)

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Saylor Andrews hasn’t let down her guard since she witnessed a violent robbery, but when special forces officer Max Zion helps her through a panic attack before taking her home with him, he doesn’t just soothe her to sleep and make her come so hard she screams in the morning.
He makes her call him daddy.
And even over his knee with her bottom bare for a spanking or naked and spread on an exam table and about to come for him with the doctor watching, daddy’s little girl always feels safe.

Publisher’s Note: Max’s Little Girl is a stand-alone novel which is the tenth entry in the Soldier Daddies series. It includes spankings, sexual scenes, and age play. If such material offends you, please don’t read this book

*************FULL BOOK START HERE*************

CHAPTER 1

Max Zion walked into the evening art class with weary muscles and wet hair. Walking in late on the first day wouldn’t make a good impression and was not how he normally behaved. Tonight he’d had to choose between arriving five minutes late after a quick shower or getting there on time and knocking everyone out with his stink from the intense workout Caden had run the team through today. He’d decided the class would prefer him to be late.

Sliding into the last chair at the tables arranged facing a raised dais holding a stool in the center of the room, Max nodded a silent apology at the woman talking. The instructor shot him a doubtful look. Yeah, he’d made a poor impression. Chafing at that thought, Max made a determined vow to be early for the Tuesday class and through the end of the semester. He’d excelled in the military because of his discipline and overachievement drive. Being judged as lacking didn’t sit well with him. Driving that concern from his mind, Max focused on what the instructor said.

“…from this introductory class on, late arrivals will find the door locked to protect the privacy of the models. It takes a lot of courage to pose in front of a crowd of artists. Having the door open and close, exposing you to random students clustered at the door, won’t happen. Does everyone understand? Any questions?”

Max spoke up. “My apologies for arriving late. It won’t happen again.”

“No, it won’t. As I said before, I will lock the door promptly at seven,” she told him, spearing Max with a sharp look.

“Yes, ma’am.”

“By arriving late today, you’ve volunteered to be our first model. Take off your shirt, pants, and anything else you’re comfortable removing. Sit on the dais in the middle,” she instructed.

From the look on her face, the instructor expected him to say, “Fuck this” and head out the door. Max didn’t have a shy bone in his body. He’d spent too many years in high-pressure situations in the military with both male-only and mixed-sex teams. Being naked in front of others was definitely less intense than facing a bomb on a final countdown in a padded suit and helmet.

Max leaned over to unlace his boots. After a second’s hesitation, the instructor began speaking again. He could feel the weight of eleven sets of eyes on his back as he pulled off his footwear and socks. Max tuned into the instructions to block that weird feeling out.

The instructor’s voice moved through the room toward the exit, and an audible click of a lock engaging sounded loud. He nodded to himself. Even peeved with him for being late, she upheld her rules of maintaining a safe space for whoever modeled.

“As I announced before, each session we will focus on a different technique or area of the body. Our first class will serve as an example of where each of you is starting. Based on your drawings, I will focus class instruction on techniques that you may find beneficial to reaching your personal goals.”

Max stood and reached over his shoulder to tug off his T-shirt. The woman next to him gasped loudly. He didn’t react. She wasn’t in awe of his chiseled muscles. If he hadn’t been injured, his many healed scars would have drawn attention instead. He bet none of their pictures would depict the stab wound that had just missed his kidney or the tangled burn scar on his shoulder blade from the fiery shrapnel that had pierced his protective padded suit.

Tonight, the vibrant black and blue bruise already spreading across his ribcage and extending over half his back looked bad—almost as awful as it felt. He really should have dropped Koa off that cliff instead of grabbing his ankle to stop his teammate’s plummet toward the ground. Unfortunately, that decision had caused Max to slam onto the rocks. Mentally, Max shrugged. Koa was a pain in the ass on most days, but he had a Little now. Max had to make sure Koa made it home to Giana.

From the opposite side of the room, the instructor hadn’t spotted the injury. She obviously thought the woman was swooning at Max’s powerful body, for the next thing out of her mouth was to censor the woman who’d reacted to the injury. “Models appear to allow us to study the human body in all its forms. They are not here to titillate or perform in a sexual manner. If you are not mature enough to handle seeing something unclothed, this is not the course for you.”

Max took pity on the student who’d reacted with sympathy and turned to face his desk as he unfastened his jeans. Now his battered side faced the instructor and the other students on the other side of the room. A low whistle came from one of the men who said, “How are you even moving?”

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Advertisement The Temporary Siren (Texas Sirens – Legacy #3) Read Online Lexi Blake http://www.books2020.com/the-temporary-siren-texas-sirens-legacy-3-read-online-lexi-blake Sun, 16 Aug 2026 18:12:14 +0000 https://www.books2020.com/the-temporary-siren-texas-sirens-legacy-3-read-online-lexi-blake Genre: Alpha Male, BDSM, Contemporary, Erotic, Suspense Authors: Lexi Blake Series: Texas Sirens - Legacy Series by Lexi Blake
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Total pages in book: 149
Estimated words: 140604 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 703(@200wpm)___ 562(@250wpm)___ 469(@300wpm)

<<<<1 2 3 11 21 >149

Olivia Barnes-Fleetwood has watched her brothers fall in love and get married. Watched her friends do the same, but it hasn’t happened for her. She’s got a great job and loves her family. She has a bright future and is surrounded by love. But there’s something missing. On the night of her brothers’ wedding, Olivia meets two men and decides to have one wild night before she goes back to her responsibilities.

Garrett Pace is a man who knows what he wants, and what he wants right now is the gorgeous redhead at the wedding he’s attending. She’s perfect, and he’s earned this. His life has been difficult, but he fought his way through it with hard work. With his law degree behind him, he’s an attorney for an organic cattle ranch collective. He enjoys his job and it keeps him close to his best friend. They’ve been living on Aidan O’Malley’s ranch, and seeing the way the man handles his wife and his partner is making Garrett think. It’s the kind of relationship he wants for himself, and that redhead is looking like a good place to start.

Keane Rollins was lucky to survive his childhood, and he knows it. He’s found some peace as O’Malley’s foreman and wants to live a quiet life. That said, he must admit that Garrett is right about one thing. There’s something missing and it’s a woman. They’ve been friends since childhood and the idea of having a relationship that doesn’t include Garrett seems impossible. When a beautiful, mysterious woman offers them a night together with her, he leaps at the chance.

What started as a wild, no-strings-attached night turns into an awkward morning when they realize Olivia is the woman they’re supposed to spend the next month working with. Garrett and Keane are thrilled at the opportunity to be with her, but Olivia is determined not to give into temptation again

*************FULL BOOK START HERE*************

Chapter One

Olivia Barnes-Fleetwood glanced around the ballroom and wished she was anywhere else.

And then hated herself for the thought.

She was in a beautiful city. Fort Worth glittered beneath them. This hotel was luxurious. Her family and friends were all around her. The dress she was wearing could have come off a runway in Paris. She had the best job. She had every privilege. Every reason to be on top of the world.

Yet she sat here while everyone else was having a marvelous time.

“Hey, you look way less happy than a maid of honor should,” a familiar voice said. Bobby Farley. He looked handsome in his suit, his hair slicked back. He usually dressed like he was a cast member of The Big Bang Theory, but then he could be. He was about to graduate from MIT with a doctorate in physics.

And he was about to graduate into his truth by telling his parents what he’d known since he was a kid.

“I guess I never thought my little brother would get married before me.” She would hand it to her parents. They knew how to throw a party. Well, her mom did. Dad would have thrown a backyard barbecue, and Papa would have brought the beer. For all their success, her dads were still down to earth, which was probably why her papa was standing to the side pulling at his bowtie like it was strangling him.

And then her mom stepped in and smiled and took his hand to lead him to the dance floor, and Sam Fleetwood didn’t look like he cared about the fact that she had forced him into a tux.

She wanted that. Wanted it so badly she couldn’t stand it, and she had to consider the idea that it wasn’t in the cards for her. Her parents loved each other. They were each other’s best friends. Together for years, they still kissed and held hands and had real passion between them, along with all the softer things that came with a long-term marriage. They took care of each other.

Josh and Nicole and Grim were going to do that, too. They were going to start a family in their house on the ranch their parents had bought them. She had moved into the guest house, and it was nice to have her own space.

She hadn’t had a real date in over a year.

Bobby grabbed another two glasses of champagne, offering her one like the complete gentleman he was. “Well, I never thought Josh would marry anyone. I remember way too many times he would come to Bliss and hit on every available woman in sight. Some who weren’t so available.”

Olivia couldn’t help a snort that came with the memory. “Yes, he even did that when he was five. That boy has always liked the ladies.”

Her heart ached as she said it.

His hand came out to cover hers. “I can hold off if you need time. Honestly, I’m not sure I need to tell my parents anything at all. They don’t talk to me much anymore. Or Will. It’s like we betrayed them by leaving Colorado. I think the only reason my mom called Will was because she got the invite to the wedding.”

“Do you think she’ll actually go to Massachusetts?” Bobby had a twin brother, and they were still close. They had gone to college together and chosen MIT for their PhDs, and now they were both accepting positions in California. They were starting their lives.

For the longest time everyone thought they would go the Bliss route when it came to a relationship. Even their parents had wrapped their very closed minds around the thought of having a single daughter-in-law. After all, there were throuples everywhere.

And for some of that time, Olivia acted as their temporary girlfriend. When she would go to Bliss she would hang out with Bobby and Will and look like the perfect long-distance threesome. It worked for all of them. It kept Bobby and Will’s parents off their backs about settling down. It kept her momma from setting her up with every half-eligible man in their circle.

But she had to face the truth now. There was some part of her that had wanted it all to be real. Will had offered, but the truth was she’d always loved Bobby.

And she wasn’t Bobby’s type.

How was it she still ached after all this time? She loved this man, but it wasn’t romantic anymore. It was comfortable. It was friendship that felt like it could have been so much more if not for that one trick of fate.

She gave him what she hoped was a bright smile. “No. You need to come out to your parents once and for all. If they reject you, you know you always have a home with me.”

He huffed and sat back. “Maybe not once your parents know you’ve been my cover for ten years with my parents.”

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Advertisement All Bets Are Off Read Online Jessa Kane http://www.books2020.com/all-bets-are-off-read-online-jessa-kane Sun, 12 Jul 2026 16:12:19 +0000 http://www.books2020.com/all-bets-are-off-read-online-jessa-kane Genre: Alpha Male, BDSM, Contemporary, Erotic, Novella Authors: Jessa Kane Advertisement

Total pages in book: 51
Estimated words: 48412 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 242(@200wpm)___ 194(@250wpm)___ 161(@300wpm)

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Vida works as a maid at Reserve, an ultra-exclusive resort on the Massachusetts coastline. She’s been warned about entitled trust fund boys for years, but when she catches the ultimate rich boy’s eye, he’s anything but typical. Tripp Sterling is a billionaire and comes from a vastly different world than Vida. One of yachts and glitzy parties and Ivy League educations. There are strict rules against guests socializing with staff, but the moment Tripp sees the stunning maid, he’s consumed. He’s going to have Vida, no matter the cost. But first he’ll have to convince her to enter his world of wealth…an often judgmental world that sticks to their own and doesn’t like change

*************FULL BOOK START HERE*************

ONE

Vida

I push the laundry cart down the luxurious corridor, stopping outside of room 721. Using the edge of my universal key card, I tap lightly on the heavy cream door.

“Housekeeping.”

Tucking the card back into the pocket of my uniform, I rub the stiffness from my neck and wait for a response or any indication that the occupant is still inside the room. There isn’t one. And honestly, there shouldn’t be anyone inside. It’s a gorgeous July day outside on the coast of Massachusetts, the waves lapping gently against the cliffs, the gulls calling to one another gently. All the trust fund kids who arrived today are at a welcome soiree on the beach, sipping the resort’s signature cordials and soaking in the sunshine.

Technically, I’m not employed as a housekeeper for Reserve, the Northeast’s premier beach resort designed for the upper class, but I have been filling in for my aunt a lot. Her arthritis is causing her to come home in too much physical pain lately, so I stepped in and took over.

What is she going to do in the fall when I start my freshman year at Dartmouth?

Worrying my bottom lip between my teeth, I proceed to gather the towels I need off the cart. My mind is still on my aunt, however. Peggy raised me from the age of ten, and she’s worked around the clock to support us both, through bad times and good. I probably wouldn’t even have applied to colleges if she hadn’t insisted. Can I really leave her when the time comes? Who is going to cover her shifts when she’s weakened with pain?

Setting aside the worry for later, I let myself into the room with an armful of towels.

I’m brought up short when I find the curtains are drawn, leaving the room dark. Most of the new arrivals dropped off their luggage and went straight to the beach. Warily, I turn on the lamp to my right, which is perched on a modern, oak desk with gold hardware. My eyes widen a little at the size of the room that is revealed. Is this the presidential suite? I don’t think I’ve ever cleaned a room this large. This isn’t even the bedroom. It’s merely the seating area.

“Hello?” I call, wetting my lips. “Housekeeping.”

Silence.

No water running.

“Just leave the towels and go, Vida,” I whisper, advancing toward the hallway, the sounds of the ocean growing louder as I draw closer to the bedroom. Based on the orientation of the room, the sleeping quarters must overlook the Atlantic. How incredible it must be to wake up in such a room. Why would anyone want to keep the sunlight out?

Reminding myself that rich kid behavior is none of my business and I’m just here to clean, I step soundlessly into the bedroom and gasp, barely able to keep my jaw off the floor.

It’s extraordinary.

Modern in whites and creams and golds, the curtains billow gently behind the mostly closed windows. As if someone didn’t want the light, but they wanted the sound of waves. A finger of discomfort creeps up my spine at the feeling that someone is either in the room or only recently departed. The maids are supposed to operate without being seen or heard. We’re the unseen facilitators of comfort, not meant to be underfoot. Ever.

If I were to jeopardize Peggy’s position at the resort, I’d never forgive myself.

No one is here. Calm down.

Taking a deep breath, I sidestep toward the bathroom and lower the heavy, carved gold handle, pushing inside⁠—

A man stands at the double sink, his hands planted on the alabaster marble, wearing nothing but a pair of black boxer briefs. His head is bowed forward, giant noise-canceling headphones covering his ears—and the music must be blasting, because I can hear the bass from five feet away. No wonder he didn’t hear me calling.

I’m frozen in indecision. Run? Make myself known and apologize?

Oh God. What do I do?

Trapped by uncertainty, I can’t help but notice the man I’ve just intruded on is…Something to behold. To call him a work of art would be an understatement.

He’s easily six foot four, generously muscled. His hands and bare feet are huge. Tension tightens the cords and sinew of his broad shoulders and triceps. Even without seeing his face, I can deduce that he belongs in a grand room such as this. It’s a room fit for a lord or a king. A god among men. That’s exactly what he is. But gods come armed with wrath, and that means I need to get my butt out of here. Unseen.

Embracing my flight instinct, I back up a step⁠—

His head lifts. Whips around.

I’m pinned by a pair of turbulent blue eyes.

My breath jams in my lungs and I drop the towels.

I’ve never seen more attractive features in my life. Not even in the movies.

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Advertisement His Game His Rules (Last to Fall #2) Read Online J.A. Huss http://www.books2020.com/his-game-his-rules-last-to-fall-2-read-online-j-a-huss Tue, 16 Jun 2026 12:51:26 +0000 https://www.books2020.com/his-game-his-rules-last-to-fall-2-read-online-j-a-huss Genre: Alpha Male, BDSM, Crime, Dark, Erotic, Mafia Authors: J.A. Huss Series: Last to Fall Series by J.A. Huss
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Total pages in book: 107
Estimated words: 102375 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 512(@200wpm)___ 410(@250wpm)___ 341(@300wpm)

<<<<1 2 3 11 21 >107

Some snakes are worth the bite, and some kings are worth kneeling for.

Emmaleen
Thirty-seven day-one demerits.
One double or nothing dare.
And zero chance I'm leaving this dungeon, like... ever.

I’m the world's most inconvenient Word Collector. Giovanni Bavga’s biggest liability. I won the last game… technically.
But this one isn’t meant to make me stay.
It’s meant to make me leave.

His game, his rules... until surrendering to him became the only way to win.

Giovanni
Control isn't something you keep—it's something you lose the moment you care.

Little Miss Take recites her penance like prayers and writes poetry that destroys me. Now I'm the one unraveling while she kneels between my legs like she was made for my throne.

Emmaleen Rouke needs to break.
In half.
In pieces.
In a hurry if she wants to stay alive.

I need her in love with her chains and the lock on the door.

My crown, my kingdom... until keeping her became the only way to save her life.

The Last to Fall series is an intense deep dive into the psyche of possession, obsession, and what one man will do to keep the woman he loves alive

*************FULL BOOK START HERE*************

1

The contrast is obscene. The Aventador—alien spacecraft, alien predator, alien perfection—sits gleaming against brick returning to dust. Nero Nemesis matte black against urban decay.

Rain beads on the windshield, soft and persistent. I don't turn on the wipers. Let it accumulate. Let it blur my view of this place she's been hiding.

It's 7:07. I've been here since 6:45.

I tap my fingers against the steering wheel, counting the twenty-three minutes I've wasted. Twenty-three minutes I could have spent dealing with the LaRiccia fallout. Twenty-three minutes I could have spent making arrangements to contain Rico's disappearance. Instead, I'm parked outside a women's shelter that looks like it should have been condemned during the Reagan administration.

"Double or nothing." The memory of her voice makes my jaw clench. A throwaway line from a woman who doesn't understand that some gambles can't be taken back. Some antes are paid in blood, not cash.

I shouldn't have kept those fucking notebooks at her bedside. Shouldn't have written down every fluctuation in her breathing, every spike in her fever, every word the doctors said. Shouldn't have documented my own pathetic fear when her oxygen levels dropped.

Definitely shouldn't have stayed awake for seventy-two hours straight watching the monitors.

But I did.

What did I expect when I left them behind as evidence that I care?

That she'd just take the money, the passport, and private jet to anywhere-but-here?

That she'd just… play by the rules?

Why the hell would Emmaleen Rourke play by the rules when she can torment me with her weaponized cuteness?

I’m so fucked.

The weeds pushing through the cracks in the parking lot catch my eye. Life finding a way through concrete. Annoying. Persistent.

Like her.

Rico's face flashes in my mind—the shock in his eyes when the bullet hit him. Not fear or anger. Just... surprise. Like it never occurred to him that I'd actually pull the trigger. That his power over me wasn’t infinite. That I’d choose a woman over decades of LaRiccia-Bavga diplomacy.

He miscalculated everything.

The rain falls harder now. Summer is over. The drizzle builds to a steady drum against the carbon-fiber roof. October has arrived with its slate-gray skies and bitter promise of winter. The trees around the shelter's cracked parking lot are tinged with yellow and orange—a transition I didn't notice happening until it was already done.

I check my watch—7:12 now.

Two weeks since Dom and Ricky buried Rico in the woods out in Bucks County. Two weeks of carefully constructed digital breadcrumbs leading to Bangkok, where Deepfake Rico is currently enjoying a vacation complete with Instagram stories and location tags.

Two weeks of preparing for the inevitable moment when Luca LaRiccia realizes his son isn't coming home.

The digital clock on my dash clicks to 7:20. Suddenly, the shelter door flies open and Emmaleen bursts out like she's been launched from a cannon.

She takes the concrete steps two at a time, her lips moving in frantic conversation with herself, hands gesturing wildly at nothing. Classic Emmaleen Rourke crisis mode—all raw nerve endings and no strategy. The woman exists in a perpetual state of last-minute panic, yet somehow survives it every time.

She has no fucking idea where she's supposed to be at 8:00 a.m.

Because I didn't tell her.

The realization settles in my chest like a warm drink on a cold night. This little punishment—withholding the location of our meeting—was calculated. Petty, perhaps, but necessary. Watching her scramble now confirms what I already knew: she's tangled in my game. A fish hooked and fighting, but ultimately dragged along at my convenience and mercy.

I let my gaze catalog every detail of her outfit, an assessment as brutal as a coroner's report.

That blazer. Jesus Christ. Neon pink with shoulder pads the size of dinner plates, like she looted the wardrobe department of a canceled 1987 sitcom. The fabric puckers at the seams, shiny where it shouldn't be, the buttons mismatched as if collected from different garments over decades of neglect.

Below it, a denim skirt hangs like depressed drapery, the hem uneven and fraying. The fabric has that distinctive gray-blue fade of something that's been washed in industrial machines at church basement charity drives for longer than she's been alive.

Her sneakers—I hesitate to even dignify them with that term—appear to have been white once, in the distant past. Now they're a study in urban archaeology, layered with stains telling stories of every puddle she's misjudged. They squeak with each step, announcing her chaotic presence like some kind of deranged metronome.

The outfit isn't just bad. It's a deliberate middle finger. A visual manifestation of "fuck you and your Italian leather shoes." Last week's farmer's market ensemble at least had accidental bohemian charm—this is just sartorial terrorism.

Me: Milan runway, tailored precision, fabrics selected by people who understand the weight and drape of textiles.

Her: whatever fell off the donation truck after being rejected by the third-tier thrift store.

The absurdity compounds as she continues her frantic monologue, completely oblivious to my presence. A $300,000 machine—Italian engineering at its apex, 6.5-liter V12 heart—sits gleaming in this depressing parking lot, and she doesn't even register it.

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Advertisement Wicked Sanctuary (The McCarthy Family Legacy #2) Read Online Jane Henry http://www.books2020.com/wicked-sanctuary-the-mccarthy-family-legacy-2-read-online-jane-henry Wed, 13 May 2026 18:57:22 +0000 https://www.books2020.com/wicked-sanctuary-the-mccarthy-family-legacy-2-read-online-jane-henry Genre: Alpha Male, Angst, BDSM, Dark, Erotic, Mafia Authors: Jane Henry Series: The McCarthy Family Legacy Series by Jane Henry
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Total pages in book: 109
Estimated words: 103878 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 519(@200wpm)___ 416(@250wpm)___ 346(@300wpm)

<<<<1 2 3 11 21 >109

I’ve been watching her for six years.
Bianca White is sunshine and innocence.
I’m the monster they whisper about in the dark.
And she hates me, for good reason.
I told myself I’d stay away. That I’d keep my distance and just make sure she was safe. But on the night of her college graduation, I have no choice.
So I take her.
I cage my little bird in the woods where no one can touch her. Where no one can take her from me.
Yet she doesn’t take it easy. She fights me and begs to go back to the man who will kill her.
She’ll learn, though, that some cages are gilded for a reason, and that anyone who wants to harm her will have to come through me first.
Bianca didn’t know it, but she was always mine. Now everyone else will too.

*************FULL BOOK START HERE*************

Chapter One

Six Years Earlier…

Ashland

I love the taste of blood in my mouth during a fight. Proof I’m alive, that I’m winning. It tastes like victory.

I spit it on the floor of the ring, and red splatters across gray. The echo of cheering is like distant thunder, the smell of sweat and Guinness flooding my senses. The abandoned warehouse is officially a gym, but the underground knows that beneath the official exterior is where the real action takes place. This is where men like me come to fight, and I fucking love it.

Lawless. Violent. Cathartic.

My ribs ache where the Cork bastard caught me early, a hit I'll feel tomorrow. But when he comes in with a right hook, confident, thinking he's got me figured out, I duck. I drive my fist into his kidney. Once. Twice. Three times in rapid succession, each hit precise and targeted. I feel something give under my knuckles.

And I love this. God help me, I love this.

He grunts and tries to pivot away, but I'm too fast for him. He swings wild, desperate now, and clips my jaw. Blood floods my mouth, the familiar metallic taste sweet and satisfying. My opponent’s desperation is my first taste of victory.

Beautiful.

He grins, breathing hard, and his guard drops.

“Come on, then,” I say, my voice rough. I tap my jaw where he hit me. “That's all you’ve got?”

He charges.

I sidestep and drive my elbow into the base of his skull. Not hard enough to do permanent damage—I'm not trying to kill the fucker—but hard enough.

He staggers, and his knees buckle.

I'm on him before he can recover. Left jab to the temple, right cross to the cheekbone. I feel the satisfying crack under my knuckles. Another shot to his fucked-up ribs, and this time, something cracks.

“Finish him, Ash!” Tiernan shouts from somewhere behind me, and it's all the encouragement I need.

I drive my knee into his stomach. The air leaves his lungs in a sick whoosh.

He drops face-first on the canvas. The ref's beside him instantly, checking him, and I step back. My chest heaves. My hands throb. There's blood on my knuckles, and I can't tell if it's his or mine.

His crew screams for him to get up, but he won't, not after what I did to his ribs. Wouldn't be wise, would it?

“Time.” The ref's voice echoes through the warehouse, and the crowd erupts.

I don't hear them when I'm playing, don't hear them when I'm fighting, but I do after I win a damn fight.

“McCarthy! McCarthy! McCarthy!”

The McCarthy family's name is one of their favorite cheers, and I fucking love it. I love being part of something bigger, knowing I stand in solidarity with my brother and cousins.

Today, I don't move or raise my arms, don't celebrate. I just stand there, knuckles split and bleeding, waiting for the roar to fade. It doesn't, really.

I've found that violence just sits in my chest like a living thing, coiling tighter and tighter until the next fight. I've come to welcome it.

“Ash.” Tiernan's voice cuts through the roar of the crowd. “Get out of the damn ring, lad, will you?”

I turn and find him at the ropes. Tiernan's been in my corner since before I was tall enough to throw a proper punch. My mother's brother, near enough my age to feel like a brother himself. He has a family of his own now, but he's always been my mentor.

“Y'alright, lad?” he asks as I duck through the ropes. He tries to dab blood off my face with a rolled-up rag, but I swat his hand away and reach for the bottle of water—swig it, swish it in my mouth, and spit out blood. He reaches for my hands instead and starts unwinding the tape.

“Aye. Grand.”

“That wasn't grand, Ash,” he says, giving me the look of pride mixed with worry I've come to recognize. “That was fuckin' brutal.” He leans closer, and I can see the gray mixed with ginger in his hair, the lines around his eyes, and the way his brow creases. I remember when I thought he was invincible—the day I saw him in this ring and decided it would be me one day. Tiernan’s a legend here in Ballyhock.

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Advertisement Wicked Altar (The McCarthy Family Legacy #1) Read Online Jane Henry http://www.books2020.com/wicked-altar-the-mccarthy-family-legacy-1-read-online-jane-henry-2 Wed, 13 May 2026 18:55:07 +0000 https://www.books2020.com/wicked-altar-the-mccarthy-family-legacy-1-read-online-jane-henry-2 Genre: Alpha Male, BDSM, Dark, Erotic, Mafia Authors: Jane Henry Series: The McCarthy Family Legacy Series by Jane Henry
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Total pages in book: 120
Estimated words: 120241 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 601(@200wpm)___ 481(@250wpm)___ 401(@300wpm)

<<<<1 2 3 11 21 >120

I've hated Cavin McCarthy since the day he made me cry in a school closet.

He was my tormentor. My nightmare. The cruel boy who turned my name into a punchline and my life into hell.

Now? He's my fiancé.

An arranged marriage neither of us wanted, brokered by families who deal in blood and power. I'd refuse if I could. But my sister is dying, and the McCarthy's hold the key to saving her life.

So I'll walk down the aisle. I'll say the vows. I'll become Mrs. Cavin McCarthy.

But I'll never forgive him.

Except... the monster I remember isn't the man standing before me now. The boy who destroyed me has become someone who fights for me. Protects me. Touches me like I'm something precious instead of broken.

And when his hands are on my throat, his voice rough in my ear, I'm not thinking about revenge anymore.

I'm only thinking about surrender

*************FULL BOOK START HERE*************

Chapter One

Cavin

I stand with my hands folded in front of me, the bitter cold of a Ballyhock winter seeping through my wool coat as I stare down at what’s left of Malachy.

“No one can know about this, lad.” Malachy’s last words. The envelope in my pocket weighs more than the coffin we carried. After the prayers, I’ll deliver it. One last secret for a man buried in them.

In my peripheral vision, my brother Seamus, the eldest, stands beside our father and mother. Da looks distinguished and broken. Malachy was a second father to him.

Mam looks poised as always, her expression gentle despite the frown creasing her brow. Her hands rest on Da's forearm, folded and still—but I know better. She's always alert. My sisters stand on either side of her, dressed in formal charcoal gray—Kyla on guard and frowning, Bronwyn, the baby of the family, quietly sniffing and wiping at her eyes with a balled-up tissue.

My cousin Declan whispers something in Bronwyn's ear that makes her smile and elbow him. Garrett, a family friend, his trademark red hair stark against the cold blue sky, snorts. I shoot them all a sharp look—this isn't the fucking time—and they straighten up quick enough.

It’s a huge turnout. I swear half of Ballyhock’s come to pay their respects, which makes sense when I think about the man Malachy was, and the way our father always made sure the McCarthy men stayed within the good graces of the residents of Ballyhock. Even the best of them will overlook our… transgressions… when we toss half a million quid in the Holy Family coffers.

“Ashes to ashes,” Father Gregory says in a monotone, his hand steady as he makes the sign of the cross over the coffin. My mother makes the sign of the cross and whispers what must be a prayer under her breath.

I rub my hand across my eyes. Haven’t slept more than a few hours straight since prison, and it’s showing.

“Mad, isn’t it? Only death or marriage gets us all in the same place anymore,” my cousin Daire mutters to me. He’s not wrong.

I stare at the coffin. It was lighter to carry than I expected. Malachy lost weight at the end, before he lost his battle to illness and old age, and I guess the lads and I are stronger than we once were.

Movement catches my eye—someone shifting near the far edge of the graveyard, half hidden behind a weathered angel statue.

A woman—blonde hair whipping in the wind and black coat buttoned to her throat.

She’s not with the main gathering but is separate, alone, kneeling at a grave with white roses clutched in her gloved hands.

And she’s staring right at me.

My breath catches. Is that…? It can’t be.

Erin fucking Kavanagh. Perfect little Erin.

What the bloody hell is she doing here?

She’s fifty yards away, maybe more, but I’d recognize her anywhere. That sharp little face. Those eyes that always looked at me like I was something she’d scraped off her shoe. The way she holds herself—stiff, controlled, like she’s afraid she’ll fly apart if she loosens her grip.

Only she’s not the scrawny little bitch from St. Albert’s anymore. She’s filled out—tits, hips, the lot. Even in that shapeless coat, I can see the curve of her. My mouth goes dry. I want to look away, but I can’t.

Christ, I’m a bastard for noticing her arse at a funeral.

She ducks her head when she realizes I’ve clocked her. Pretends to fuss with the flowers, but her hands are shaking now.

Good.

The Kavanaghs sent flowers yesterday, including a card with her father’s signature, not hers. So why the fuck is Padraic Kavanagh’s daughter kneeling at a grave in McCarthy territory during our funeral?

My hand moves to my side, where my gun sits under my coat. Instinct. Even from this distance, I could drop her before she screams.

The thought shouldn’t make my cock twitch… but it does.

My eyes narrow. Is she spying for her da? Or did she just want to watch me squirm? That'd be just like her—Little Miss Perfect, always so fucking eager to see me brought low. Again.

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Advertisement Daddy’s Atonement – Crime Boss Daddies Read Online Laylah Roberts http://www.books2020.com/daddys-atonement-crime-boss-daddies-read-online-laylah-roberts Wed, 13 May 2026 18:55:07 +0000 https://www.books2020.com/daddys-atonement-crime-boss-daddies-read-online-laylah-roberts Genre: Alpha Male, BDSM, Biker, Contemporary, Crime, Erotic, MC Authors: Laylah Roberts Advertisement

Total pages in book: 156
Estimated words: 160192 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 801(@200wpm)___ 641(@250wpm)___ 534(@300wpm)

<<<<1 2 3 11 21 >156

All her life she’d been trapped in a cage . . .
Some of them were better than others, but that didn’t matter when all she dreamed of was freedom.
However, dreams weren’t for people like her.
Angie only had nightmares.
People either abused or abandoned her.
Which is why she wasn’t going to believe the promises from a crime lord.
A Bartolli had ruined her life once. She couldn’t let that happen again.
No matter how sexy and protective he was.
Or now seductive and possessive his sub could be.
They would just have to find another girl to be Jared’s Little and North’s plaything, to love them.
Because love wasn’t for girls like her.

Please This book contains a super hot crime boss who is definitely in charge. Although his sub might try to argue that point. And both of them want our heroine as well as each other

*************FULL BOOK START HERE*************

PROLOGUE

Chicago

Five years ago . . .

His father was a dead man.

It was only a matter of time. With the lifestyle that bastard led it wouldn’t take long before he pickled his liver.

Or was murdered.

But as he looked at the extremely young, scared woman sitting across from him at the dining table, Jared felt like grabbing the steak knife off the table and stabbing it into his father’s fat, fucking throat himself.

Fuck, he wished North was here.

But his father didn’t believe in letting “the help” sit at the dining table. There was a definite divide in this household between “the help” and “the family.”

Jared longed to tell his father just what North meant to him . . . but he knew that would only put a target on North’s back.

North thought he could take care of himself.

However, Jared’s father was a fucking monster.

And Jared knew that he’d use anyone he loved against him. It was why he had to act like he didn’t care about his cousin, Tabby, while doing his best to keep her safe.

And why he couldn’t show that he was concerned about the young woman across from him.

The girl who his father had apparently fucking married.

Jared tightened his hand around his fork, then slowly eased his hold.

Do not show any reaction.

Do not show that you care.

The urge to murder him was almost too much for him to control. And while his father deserved to die, Jared wasn’t quite in a position to make that happen.

He was building up his own empire, without the old man’s knowledge, down in Colombia. His own team of men that worked for him because they wanted to.

Not out of fear.

Unfortunately, he couldn’t openly murder the bastard. Not without making too many waves in the family.

North had offered to sneak into his bedroom and slit his throat. But there was too much risk.

However, he needed to move up his timeline.

“Well?” Fergus said as he stabbed a piece of steak. “Don’t you have anything to say to your new stepmother?” He chortled after saying that.

As though everything was a big joke.

The girl flinched.

She looked hungry, haunted.

On her plate was a tiny serving of food. Some plain mashed potatoes and a few beans.

He didn’t blame her for not wanting to eat but that wasn’t enough.

“Don’t call her that,” he snapped and she jumped.

Regret filled him.

Jared hadn’t meant to scare her. The last thing he wanted was to add to her pain.

When his father told him eighteen months ago that he was getting married, Jared had felt sorry for the poor woman. But he’d also figured that she knew what she was getting into.

He hadn’t attended the wedding.

Hadn’t given her another thought.

Jared hadn’t had time to worry about what shit his father was getting up to.

But he should have known better.

He should have been keeping a closer eye on what his father was doing.

“How old are you?” He hadn’t meant to ask that, but the words just shot out of him.

She would be stunning if she didn’t look so terrified.

“N-nearly t-twenty-one.”

His father smiled. “Fucking hot, isn’t she? The young ones are just so . . . delicious. I can get you a young one, too. I’ve built up some nice connections.”

“I’ll let you know,” Jared said through gritted teeth.

Not fucking happening.

But appearances had to be kept.

He could not let his father know that behind the scenes, he was plotting to take him out.

It could be done.

It had to be.

For his sake.

For his cousin’s safety.

And for this abused and traumatized woman.

“We’ve got to get her free, North.”

Jared paced back and forth in the bedroom suite at his father’s sadistic torture venue.

Otherwise known as his home.

North knew he should have gone to dinner with Jared. What Jared didn’t understand is that he wasn’t scared of his father.

That disgusting pig didn’t intimidate him. Jared only had to give him the go-ahead and he’d happily slip into his bedroom and slit the bastard’s throat.

Easy-peasy.

He sharpened his knife as Jared paced back and forth. North was hoping he might notice and give him the nod.

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Advertisement Dirty Little Secret Read Online Riley Hart http://www.books2020.com/dirty-little-secret-read-online-riley-hart-2 Wed, 13 May 2026 18:54:30 +0000 https://www.books2020.com/dirty-little-secret-read-online-riley-hart-2 Genre: BDSM, College, Contemporary, Erotic, M-M Romance Authors: Riley Hart Advertisement

Total pages in book: 94
Estimated words: 90795 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 454(@200wpm)___ 363(@250wpm)___ 303(@300wpm)

<<<<1 2 3 11 21 >94

James
I’m forty years old, a tenured professor with investments, property, and a 401k.

But what I crave is to submit. To hand over control to Colton. We met on an app. His needs matched mine. It was only supposed to be once, then twice. No commitment, so I don’t feel bad cutting contact.

Then my world implodes when I get custody of siblings I didn’t know I have.

Everything would have been fine, I would have survived on my own, if not for Sir, my hookup, walking through the doors of my classroom.

He’s over a decade younger than me, and now I’m his professor, yet Sir is giving me schedules I need and caretaking from a distance. I know I should stay away, but I can’t. No matter what he gives me, I want more.

Colton
I’m twenty-eight years old, starting my first semester as a transfer student at a local university, finally following my dreams.

And then I see him, the sub I haven’t stopped thinking about, the one who comes undone for me in ways I’ve never experienced before. He makes all my Dominant instincts flare to life. I’ve always loved caretaking, but James makes me need it on a bone-deep level.

It’s not long before he’s on his knees for me again, surrendering in ways we both crave. He’s forbidden, my professor, my good boy, and I’m his Sir…his dirty little secret. But it’s not enough. I want it all from him, if only he’ll let me have it.

Dirty Little Secret is a student/professor romance, with an older sub and a younger Dom. Please use the look inside feature for a more in-depth content description and warning

*************FULL BOOK START HERE*************

CHAPTER ONE

James

May

I can’t stop my fingers from drumming against the steering wheel.

Traffic is ridiculous, which means I’m running the risk of being late. Well, not late, really, because I’m never late for anything, but running the risk of not arriving at least fifteen minutes early, like I do with everything.

What will Sir think if I’m not timely?

Tap, tap, tap, tap. My fingers continue to move as I sit at the red light, playing a rapid beat that matches my pulse.

This is my second time meeting with Colton, and I don’t want to disappoint him already. Even more importantly, being late would mess with my head, and it’s already hectic in there, no matter how much I try to pretend it’s not. That’s one of the reasons I need this—the discipline, the organization, not having to decide what to do. In every other aspect of my life, I need control, but this, in these moments and if I find the right Dom, I’m able to get out of my head and just be.

I startle when the car behind me honks, letting me know the light is green.

“Get it together, James,” I say softly to myself, frustrated I was spacing out like that. I’m usually very good at holding it together—I depend on being able to hold it together.

Focus. Most of life’s problems can be dealt with by hard work, focus, and determination, so that’s what I force myself to do the rest of the drive to the house I own in a suburban neighborhood. It’s farther from the college where I teach political science. I don’t live here. I don’t even know why I bought it, but once I started meeting up with Doms, it became a place to do that.

I pull into the driveway at three. I park beside Sir’s older SUV. I don’t know what he does for a living, but from the things he’s said and his callouses when he touches me, I assume it’s something with his hands.

It fits him. I can’t imagine him doing anything else, which is…typically not my thing, but nothing about Sir is similar to any of the Doms I’ve played with in the past—the biggest being that he’s younger than me. Twenty-eight to my forty. He mentioned his age in his bio on the BDSM site where we met. I wasn’t sure it would work, how I would feel about submitting to someone younger, but when he messaged, it had been a long time since I’d given in to this need, and everything he’d said or done had been exactly what I’d needed.

I thought it’d be a one-time thing—it usually is for me—but here we are, meeting a second time for him to control and fuck me.

My fingers tremble, frustration making the back of my neck prickle. I should have been here before him. I hate that he arrived first.

Sir is already out of his SUV by the time I get out, walking around my vehicle toward me.

“I’m sorry I’m late,” I tell him, and he frowns.

“You’re not late. It’s two fifty-five. We said three. You’re all good.”

I don’t know him well—or at all, really—but from what I’ve seen, nothing seems to rattle him. It’s like everything just rolls off his shoulders, this lightness to him I’ve never had myself, and frankly, wouldn’t know what to do with.

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