
Seducing My Fiance's Uncle
"Don't you dare touch me. You bloody monster," Eric whispered glaring at me, which only turned me on the more.
A beautiful smile crossed my lips; luckily for us, his fake mother was so focused on Katherine, she did not know I was fucking her son before her eyes.
"So I am now a monster, huh? That was not what you said yesterday. Or have you forgotten about our hot night?" I asked as I traced my way to his lap again, approaching his groin area.
He swallowed hard, his eyes roaming around. "Damien. I am Katherine's fiancé. your niece" He reminded me as my hands reached his groan, caressing it through the layers of his trousers.
"Yesterday you were Mike's boyfriend, and what did I tell you? I don't give a fuck!," I whispered back. "Now be quiet and try to control yourself" .
Eric's life is thrown upside down when his brother is killed on his coronation day, and he now has to become the king. and he can't because he is gay and he has a boyfriend who he loves dearly, or so he thought until he met Damien Monetro, his fiancée's uncle and his former one-night stand
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Chapter 5
Eric POV
A heavy block settled on my throat as I ran to the bathroom. I took in a deep breath, trying as hard as I can to take a deep breath.
This can't be happening. Damien can't be Katherine's uncle; he can't be the mafia don that my mum talked about. I curl my hands into a tight fist; different emotions spiral within me as I pace round the room loosening my tie.
My eyes scanned the whole room until they fell on the mirror, and immediately I wanted to pull my eyes away. To stop staring at the monster, the total failure that I was. Everything I do, every step I take, keeps coming back as a failure. Just this one time I decided to have casual sex and ended up having it with my fiancé's uncle, a man who doesn't even have feelings for anyone. A selfish monster and a mafia don.
How would the people feel if they found out that the heir to the throne was gay and not only gay, but also slept with his fiancée's uncle, who was a mafia don? Gosh! How can this be happening to me? This can't be happening.
"Eric, open the door!" Damien's voice came hitting the door. My pulse quickened, my palms sweatier than usual.
"Eric, open the fucking door!" He shouted again.
"I am busy!" I shouted back.
"Busy doing what? Huh? Open the door, Eric; don't tempt me!' He shouted. His voice echoed like a hurricane, filling the room; cold chills licked my skin. I knew it would be disastrous if we were in the same room. He would take total control of me, my body, my senses, my life, my emotion, everything. I walked towards the door and opened it.
He barged in; his perfume filled my nostrils, taking control of my emotions, every single thing. "What do you want, Damien?" I asked.
He smiled and walked to the other side of the bathroom. "I should be asking you the same question. What were you thinking when you walked out on me?"
I sucked in a deep breath, biting my tongue from saying stupid. I heaved a deep sigh. "What were you thinking about when you were touching me right in front of everyone, my mum, your sister, and your niece? Anyone could have seen us.
Your maid could have talked, and I would have been the one in trouble, not you! You have nothing to lose if this comes out. I have everything to lose. Just leave me alone. Let us forget about this and move on with my life! Please!" I shouted; tears stood in my eyes. Desperation dripping off my voice.
A flicker of hurt passed through his eyes. He shoved his hands into his pocket, strolling towards me with a smirk. I took a step back as he stalled towards me, taking my time until I had gotten to the wall.
My heart races faster as he approaches me. His smirk deepened. "You look so cute when angry."
My eyes widened. "Really? Of all the things I said, that is your response. Do you know how mad this scenario sounds? I am a prince for crying out loud. I have an obligation!" I shouted.
He smiled as he leaned in closer, his hands tracing my face. My breath hitched immediately, emotions rolling within me. I closed my eyes involuntarily.
How can he have so much effect on me? "You are shivering," he whispered, his hot breath fanning my ears and sending goosebumps over me. "That's why I like about you. The way your body welcomes me." His hands moved to my neck, his thumb caressing my throat, tracing down to my chest.
With each touch, my self-control slipped; with each kiss, I found myself craving more, more of his toxic sinful touch.
I closed my eyes for a moment, savoring his sweet, hard, protective touch. "Damien, anyone can walk in on us like this," I said through gritted teeth.
"I liked it when you called me Sir. It had so much effect on my dick," he whispered.
"Yet you did not allow me to touch you," I said, reminding him about how he treated me last night.
"I see. So you are still angry. Yet a moment ago, you said I should leave you. That you don't need my presence in your life, right? You picked my niece over me," he reminded me.
I sucked in a deep breath, realizing that I am supposed to be driving him, pushing him away, not the other way round. Not wanting to touch and taste him. But I can't stop myself. He has left an insatiable hunger in me; the fact that he denied me touching him last night made me want to touch him, to see how he tasted.
I placed my hands on his shoulders, pushing him back. "Let me go. They would be waiting for us." He smiled and took my hands, slowly bringing my hands to his belt.
He stopped there, his eyes meeting my hands, his eyes filled with hunger; his eyes searched me for the same feeling, and then he guided my hands to his groin. He moved my hands down; I subconsciously grabbed it a little bit.
A smile shadowed his lips. "You can have it. Taste it. Here and now," he said as he unbuckled his trousers, coming down, leaving me with the amazing sight of his long dick. I swallowed hard, every thread of honour slipping away.
I turned away immediately. "Damien, get dressed. We need to go," I said, struggling with my urge.
His hands moved towards my belt, unbuckling it. I gripped his hands. "Damun, stop. Everyone would be looking for us."
"One thing you need to know about me, love, is that I don't care about anyone except you and your pleasure. The door is locked. No one can walk in; let's be fast," he replied as my trousers fell to the ground, displaying my erection.
Without wasting any goddamn time, he grabbed my dick, stroking it lightly, his arms wrapped around my waist, drawing me to him. Strings of pleasure filled me immediately; I closed my eyes as my eyes fell backward.
Gosh, this would be bad. This is bad. If someone catches us, I am done for, and yet here I am, getting harder with every stroke. "Do you see how welcoming he is to me?" Damien asked, as he leaned closer, planting kisses on my exposed neckline.
'How much do you want me? Huh, Eric?"
"Damien, this is not right. We..." My voice trailed off as a moan escaped me. He fastened his pace, pleasure filling me. making it hard for me to think, to breathe. I could feel myself shamelessly at the edge.
Shock waves of pleasure rushed through me as my seed filled his hands. A loud groan escaped my lips. I closed my eyelids, panting heavily. His thumb caressed my lips gently. "There, all mine," he whispered in a deep, dark baritone voice, his eyes piercing mine. "My perfect boy"
He slowly guided my hands to his boxers; my eyes widened as his huge erection came into view. Gosh, he was big, bigger than me, and here I was thinking I was the next Greek god.
I subconsciously grabbed his dick, feeling his huge weight under mine, my body already submitting to the urge, imagining how delicious he would taste. "Tell me, Eric, say it. That you did not think of touching me. That you don't want to take my cock right here and fuck me. Tell me that you don't feel the trail of being caught doing something so dangerous. Don't lie, dear; I see it. The matched desires in your beautiful lustful eyes," he whispered into my ears.
I closed my eyes trying to find some reasons, some way to say no. That I don't want him or I don't like who I was around him, but none came. I do want to be with him, wrapped in his strong arms all day, but I hated this, hated what we had because I hate losing control, hate going crazy, and here he was driving me crazy.
His hands trailed down my well-ironed shirt, stopping at my nipples. "Say it, love, and I would walk away and let you have my niece. Say it, Eric. You don't want me." He gave my nipples a little squeeze, and a painful pleasure filled me, driving the urge to my groin.
This was the time, a perfect opportunity to let go of this beautiful monster. To be free, and yet my fucked-up brain worked with my mouth against my morality as I whispered, "I want you... I want this, Damien.... It's hard...forbidden... But fuck yeah, I want it," I whispered.
He smirked, his eyes meeting mine with a glint of pride. "Good, now get down on your knees."
My eyes widened immediately, panic replacing whatever pleasure I was having. "This is the bathroom." "So?" He asked with a raised eyebrow. "I can't. Someone can walk in, and besides I... I will not kneel here. I am a prince. If you want me to fuck you, find a location, and I will meet you there, and I will certainly not go down on my knees in the bathroom!" I snapped. What the hell is wrong with this man?
As usual, his permanent smirk laced his face. "Oh, really?" He asked in a daring tone as he slid his boxers down, leaving his cock bare, staring at me. I subconsciously licked my lips.
"It's all yours, baby." Maybe I was a fool or blinded by the sexual tension between us, but I went down on my knees immediately, taking him slowly into my mouth until he was such at my throat. God, he was so fucking huge.
Slowly I picked up the pace; a groan escaped his lips as he closed his eyes as he thrust in faster, increasing his pace, his hands grinding the back of my head as tears filled my eyes, his cum dropping off my lips.
Damien turned back to me, increasing his pace till I almost gagged. "Fuck! This feels so good!" He groaned.
I closed my eyes I could feel it; he was at the edge already. "Fuck! I am about to cum!" He announced a warning at his time like he was giving me an option to pull out and let him cum alone, but I remained there, my mouth wrapped around his dick as he poured his hot liquid into my mouth. I swallowed every bit of it, leaving nothing behind.
His hands grabbed my face as he stared at me with a smile, his thumb caressing my lips, his eyes blinded with a dark expression. "You don't know how much trouble you have gotten yourself into, my Prince. Because after this, I'm not sure I can let you go," he said.
I gradually stood up, straightening my tie, as a pink hue covered-my cheek. "Let's go. We have spent much time alone," I said, looking at my reflection in the mirror, the sled's destructive urge gone.
He smiled and walked towards me, wrapping his arms around me from the back. He stared at me for a while, a smile on his face.
"What?" I asked.
He shook his head and scoffed, a smile on his face. "Nothing. Just admiring how good you look" he said and placed a kiss on my cheek. I smiled, my brain taking a photo of us. Both dressed looking hot and dashing.
He gave me one last longing look before walking away. I remained there for a while to avoid any suspicious belief, my phone beeped with a message from mike.
My heart dropped instantly as my eyes roamed around the long two paragraphed text it had sent.
My eyes landed on the last sentence "I am not willing to let go of you for some stupid rules, even if you go ahead with the wedding. I would willingly be your concubine"
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7.3
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.

7.1
I was the Architect who built the digital fortress for the most feared Don in New York.
To the world, I was Brendan Wiggins’s silent, elegant Queen.
But then my burner phone buzzed under the dinner table.
It was a photo from his mistress: a positive pregnancy test.
"Your husband is celebrating right now," the caption read. "You are just the furniture."
I looked across the table at Brendan. He smiled and held my hand, lying to my face without blinking.
He thought he owned me because he saved my life ten years ago.
He told her I was just "functional." That I was a barren asset he kept around to look respectable, while she carried his legacy.
He thought I would accept the disrespect because I had nowhere else to go.
He was wrong.
I didn't want to divorce him—you don't divorce a Don.
And I didn't want to kill him. That was too easy.
I wanted to erase him.
I liquidated fifty million dollars from the offshore accounts only I could access. I destroyed the servers I had built.
Then, I contacted a black-market chemist for a procedure called "Tabula Rasa."
It doesn't kill the body. It wipes the mind clean. A total hard reset of the soul.
On his birthday, while he was out celebrating his bastard son, I drank the vial.
When he finally came home to find the empty house and the melted wedding ring, he realized the truth.
He could burn the world down looking for me, but he would never find his wife.
Because the woman who loved him no longer existed.

8.1
Samira James has two weeks left.
Two weeks until she turns eighteen.
Two weeks until everything changes.
And a few months left trapped in high school with the boy she hates most.
Calvin Simms has been her enemy for as long as she can remember. Popular, untouchable, and the living reminder of a childhood misunderstanding neither of them ever corrected. Their interactions are sharp, heated, and carefully controlled.
Until they aren't.
As months pass, tension replaces silence.
Jealousy replaces indifference.
And lines blur where hatred once lived.
With rivals watching, secrets resurfacing, and temptation growing harder to ignore, Samira must decide if sticking to her rules is worth denying what her body and her heart are already choosing.
Because some mistakes feel too good to stop.
And sometimes...
you don't fall for the person you want.
You fall for the one you swore to hate.

7.5
I was the adopted daughter of the wealthy Ruiz family, but the moment their true heir appeared, I was thrown away like trash.
Not long after being kicked out, my adoptive father and uncle hired a hitman to stage a fatal car crash on Mulholland Drive.
Pinned under an overturned Porsche with a shattered leg, I watched the hitman point a suppressed pistol between my eyes.
"The Ruiz family sends their regards."
Before this, my reputation had already been completely destroyed by a director, a pop idol, and a reality TV star, leaving me blacklisted and universally hated.
My adoptive family didn't just want me ruined; they wanted me permanently silenced to tie up loose ends.
The hitman pulled the trigger, and the original Alicia died in despair, tasting only rain and blood.
Until her last breath, she didn't understand.
Why did the family she loved treat her like a disposable object? Why did those three men maliciously frame her and turn the world against her?
Opening my eyes again, the fear was gone, replaced by an ancient, cosmic indifference.
I, the Arbiter, had taken over this deceased vessel.
Moving faster than the human eye, I crushed the hitman's steel gun with my bare hand and turned his soul into dust.
Looking at the memories of those who wronged this girl, I signed a contract for the very reality show they were starring in.
Since I borrowed this body, taking out the trash is a required courtesy.

8.2
When our family empire crumbled, my sister and I were sold off as collateral to the Chicago Outfit.
My fierce sister Frankie was forced to marry Damien Moretti, the terrifying Don. I was shackled to his brother Leo, a notorious, degenerate playboy.
I thought my life was over, but the real nightmare began on our wedding night. A terrified maid handed me the wrong room key. Exhausted and numb, I crawled into a dark honeymoon suite, praying my new husband would be too drunk to find me.
Instead, the heavy door opened, and a man fueled by a drug-laced drink stepped in. He was ruthless, punishing, and entirely stripped away my dignity in the pitch black.
When the morning light finally broke, I turned my head, expecting to see Leo's boyish face. Instead, I saw a profile carved from ice.
Damien Moretti. The Don. My sister's husband.
The very man who had previously called me a "liability" and ruined my life. When he realized who I was, his eyes filled with absolute, chilling disgust. He dragged me out of the ruined sheets, threw me onto the floor of a freezing shower, and demanded to know why I had sneaked into his suite.
"You ruined me. How am I supposed to look at Frankie? You should have just killed me. Kill me now, Damien. It would be a mercy compared to this."
I sobbed, the freezing water mingling with my tears. He just stared down at me with cold, unreadable intent. I was now trapped in a house of monsters, carrying the Don's darkest secret, and I had to figure out how to survive without destroying my sister.

7.3
While I was pregnant, my husband held a party downstairs for another woman's son.
Through a hidden mental link, I overheard my husband, Don Dante Rossi, tell his consigliere he was going to publicly reject me tomorrow. He planned to make his mistress, Serena, his new mate.
An act forbidden by ancient law while I carried his heir.
Later, Serena cornered me, her smile venomous. When Dante appeared, she shrieked, clawing her own arm and blaming me for the attack.
Dante didn't even look at me. He snarled a command that froze my body and stole my voice, ordering me from his sight as he cradled her.
He moved her and her son into our master suite. I was demoted to the guest room at the end of the hall.
Passing her open door, I saw him rocking her baby, humming the lullaby my own mother used to sing to me.
I heard him promise her, "Soon, my love. I'll sever the bond and give you the life you deserve."
The love I felt for him, the power I'd hidden for four years to protect his fragile ego, all turned to ice.
He thought I was a weak, powerless wife he could discard. He was about to find out that the woman he betrayed was Alessia De Luca, princess of the most powerful family on the continent.
And I was finally going home.