JanJan Untamed, Wordsmith
“I have something for everyone whose mind is wide open."
~ JANJAN UNTAMED ~
Welcome to the world of JanJan Untamed
This is my official website. Thank you so much for stopping by. Sit back, relax, and stay a while.
“I leave a piece of my heart on every page."
~ JANJAN UNTAMED ~
JanJan Untamed
I grew up in a small city on the banks of the Mississippi River. I loved fishing and hunting with my dad. I started writing in the third grade. As a child, I wrote as much as I read. However, I never shared my writing until I was an adult. The world can thank my ten followers for pushing me to finally publish something. What took me so long to share it? I write dark shit and I mostly wrote it for myself. I have a bad habit of writing what I like to read. As it turns out, some of you like reading it too. Thank you for your support.
"Yeah, I'm kinda weird. Most interesting people are."
~ JANJAN UNTAMED ~
This is a safe place for those who enjoy darker themes. You must be 18+ to ride this ride.
"My novels are for deep thinkers and perverts."
~JANJAN UNTAMED~
"I would rather run free with the wolves
than crowd in with the sheep."
~JANJAN UNTAMED~
"My favorite genre to write is historical."
~ JANJAN UNTAMED ~
Which JANJAN novel held you captive the longest?
"My stories are different.
I like that."
~ JANJAN UNTAMED ~
One day, I will understand why people read trigger warnings, get triggered and trash the book. The warning was for you, lil bish.
It's the walk for me.
The wolf will eat you better.
“Some heroines fall for the guy that readers hate. The heart wants what the heart wants."
~ JANJANUNTAMED ~
My novels are love letters to the emotionally insane.
“Meet me in New Orleans."
~ JANJAN UNTAMED ~
I met some new friends during my night out and they came to my book signing the next day!
My first burlesque show. Watch at your own risk. She gets naked af.
"Are you a virgin anywhere, Minette?"
"No, Master. Not unless you count my heart.",
~Seville St. John and his Minette~
“You feel like a virgin in every way." Master speaks with my blood dripping from his perfect lips. "I love the way your cunt feels inside, Minette. You are so warm and wet..."
Seville St. John
From the novel The Reimagining of a Blood Slave
"The story deals with an ancient vampire and the submissive who serves him. The concept of total submission triggers some women. They use words like weak and doormat when I say vulnerable and in love."
~JANJAN UNTAMED~
'Yeah, I wrote a story about a heroine addict who fell in love with a sex addict. Their story begins at a meeting. I loved writing this Novel."
~JANJAN UNTAMED~
FIXX
"The woman looks like she has been to hell, fucked the devil,
and made it back to tell us her story."
Dorien Prince
From the novel Fixx
“Are you always like this?” The junkie asks curiously, setting down her fork again.
“How do you mean?” I am curious.
Her brown eyes are like warm syrup, and soft with emotion as she watches me. The dumb junkie puts her heart out there for anyone to come along to break. I spear a piece of chicken with my fork and hold it to her strange, hundred-dollar lips. She takes it and chews.
“I don’t know…” She begins. The poor, church mouse is about to say something offensive again. “Like this.”
Her hands extend toward me as she speaks with food in her mouth. Low class.
“The way you walk, the way you talk, the way you dress. You’re so formal and stuffy. You talk like a vampire. It’s sexy, but you aren’t a nice person, Dorien.”
That puts a smile on my lips. It is one of the kinder ways that someone has described me.
“You are in my house, eating my food. I am nice enough.”
"Some will hate your work and others will love it. You can't please everyone. Don't even try."
~JANJAN UNTAMED~
“My sweet virgin.” We are face-to-face again. I smell myself on him. It makes me hold him tighter. “My Maeve.”
His lips come down on mine as he fills me with his cock. I scream into his mouth. The Beaumont Prince rides me hard and deep until I stretch to accommodate his size. It begins to hurt less with every stroke. I am being fucked by a Beaumont Prince. I wrap my arms and legs around him. I hold on to him while I can.
The pain fades into something dark and delicious. His love making is comforting like warm chocolate and swallows me like a moonless night. I hold onto his hair and look into his eyes as he finds his pleasure deep inside my body.
“Christian.”
A tear rolls down my face. The Beaumont has probably seen this happen a hundred times before. Some unsuspecting woman probably falls in love underneath him every day. He does not speak. I need not hear him speak any words. I see them in his eyes. I feel them in the way he is making love to me. He wants me the same way. The prince reaches down between us to touch the sensitive bud where we are joined. My body begins to tremble and shake on its on as I am overcome with a pleasure like no other. Not even his mouth feels this good. I move my hips with him. I take it all.
“I will give you the child that you want so badly, Maeve. I will give you as many as you want, witch; if it means I get to keep fucking you.”
“Yes.” I cry to out when my cunt explodes inside. “Yes.”
"Have you read The View From The Bottom? It was a journey."
~Truly Fontaine~
What are you doing Truly? I ask myself again as I try to figure out the fancy shower. You are getting this money. Then, why are you hiding in the bathroom? I'm hiding from him. The blonde. I'm not sure if I want him to watch me fuck his friend. I'm not sure if I want him to see me like this. Shake it off bitch. This is no time to catch a conscience. This is no time to catch a case of the shame. Don't be stupid, he met you like this. If you weren't like this, you wouldn't be here right now. You are the entertainment. These are business hours and you are good at your job. So shake it the fuck off. Why didn't I just get on the train and go home? I have ten thousand reasons in my bag. A deal is a deal and it's not like I haven't been here a hundred times before. Do it, don't do it, do it, don't do it, and I end up doing it anyway.I pat my face dry with a towel that is softer than my bed at home. I stand in the mirror and stare at myself. I take in my drunk looking red eyes, my wild afro, and the slutty red lipstick. You are a fucking loser. But you're winning tonight baby.
"Shout out to my twelve followers on Wattpad who encouraged me to publish this book."
Section Title.
"Writing fantasy frees me from the bondages of reality."
~ JANJANUNTAMED ~
His groan is a warning before he buries himself inside me. My eyes fly open, and my mouth opens to scream. Kai lets me scream. And when the burning begins to fade into a soft throbbing, his lips find mine. And he makes love to me. Gently. Considerately. With soft words and a softer touch. He is awfully skilled at this for a primitive man. How do I know how primitive he is? What do I know at all? I know that he doesn’t want to hurt me, but he can’t stop. His hips are moving slowly, but he can’t stop fucking me. When I look up at the strange native who calls himself Kai, my heart beats off-key and my body is flooded with warmth.
Doctor Evee Ward
From the novel Day One
"When I was writing Day One, I thought to myself, this is the one. This one is going to show the world that you aren't fucking around. It is going to put you on the map."
~JANJAN UNTAMED~
"I got a lot of heat for The Magnificent Miss Broadway. It is a story about falling in love with a heartbreaker. There are some who were angry, and some who could relate because they had a heartbreaker of their own.
~JANJAN UNTAMED~
Bijou Broadway
“Howdy, Sheriff. Deputies...”
“Well, I'll be. Bijou Broadway? Is that you gal?”
“Yessuh, Sheriff. Been out here a while now huntin’ snappers.”
“Alone by yerself again? Where's yer Pa?”
“He’s minin’ coal up north.”
“It ain't safe out here for a gal at night. Too many thieving niggers and nigger lovers creeping away from black Nuke’s in these woods. We looking for a man what got caught stealing from the Stumphy place. They ain't get a look at his face, say it looked like a nigger. Had to be a nigger to get away unseen like that.”
“I seen a man.” I speak up.
“Yah did? Where? When? Was it a nigger?”
“Nah, Suh. Was a white man. White as a ghost.”
“She’s lyin! Weren't no white man! Maybe she was in on it...”
“Shut your goddamn mouth, Jimmy. Hannibal Broadway ain't never stole nothing or broke the law and his gal ain't neither. No sense in making trouble with him. Hannibal hates niggers worse than anybody, he ain't gonna help no thief!”
“Now tell me what you saw, Bijou.” The Sheriff says like he's speaking to a small child. I get top honors, but because I walk with a cane, most white people treat me like I’m slow.
“I seen a white fella, Sheriff. With light hair and running with two turkeys down yonder way into the deep. Down toward that bog with the quicksand.”
“Goddamn it! The son of a bitch got away. We ain't riskin’ our necks over a few turkeys.”
“Them was prized turkeys, Sheriff.” One of the deputies reminds him.
“Bullshit. What the hell is a prize turkey anyway? Does it cook itself? They ain’t prize turkeys no more. Now, they’re some poor kid’s supper. Turn us around, this is as far as we go.”
“Sheriff!” I call.
“Why yes, Bijou?”
“You fellas are trespassing.” I warn them. “That's a shooting offense.”
They laugh because they think I’m slow. I laugh because they’re a bunch of idiots. When I’m sure they’re gone, I turn to kick George Kelly off my land. He’s standing so close that I bump into him. He reaches out his hands and grabs me when I threaten to fall. I fall against his hard chest instead.
I’ve never been this close to a boy before. My titties are smashed against him and my pussy is pressed against the bulge in his tattered britches. My heart beats faster and I can’t move like a statue. My first touch from a man and it's Gorgeous George. The ugliest of the Kelly’s. He is so tall and well-formed that I’m curious. I don't kick him off right away. He senses my curiosity and gives into some of his own. He grabs me up roughly, squeezes my ass and kisses me hard on the lips. Holy shit does he kiss me. Not the sweet peck that I expect from my Seth. The Kelly is a few years older than me. He’s done this before.
I lose my mind and kiss him back. We forget ourselves in the hot night. Strange things happen in the swamp at night.Suddenly, he throws me away from him. He looks half-disgusted and half in love. I turn and vomit into the bushes. Oh God I kissed George Kelly! He picks up his prize turkeys, gives me one last hateful look, and we run our separate ways.
Bijou Broadway
From the novel The Magnificent Miss Broadway
Young Bijou
Note to self: Don't let naysayers steal your love for writing. Fools throw rocks at things that shine.
"Could you date a porn star?"
The Beast
I walk outside into the warm, summer night checking out the nearly-empty parkin lot. Billy’s overrated little sports car is parked under a street light. So is mine. I park it here for the same reason he does. Because it deserves a fuckin spotlight. Billy’s shit looks like a fuckin Hot Wheel toy beside The Beast. I adjust my dick and cross the lot to my black-on-black 1965 Lincoln Continental. Look at them wheels, baby. Now this is a fuckin car. I need a car big enough to fit my ego. And my dick.
Darby Goodnight
From the novel The Bastard & The Bird
Darby Goodnight
From the novel The Bastard & The Bird
My tongue slides between her pussy lips. She likes that. So, I lick it some more. I show her how good she’ll get her pussy ate if she sticks with me. I eat her pussy like I’m in the fuckin pussy-eatin Olympics, and I’m goin for fuckin gold. I lick her and suck her til she cums in my mouth and I keep on suckin her.
She begs me to stop. That’s when I finally stop and climb between her brown legs. I kiss the inside of her thigh in thanks for the gift I’m about to receive. The gift of her whole fuckin life. My lips cover hers and she reaches down to put it in herself. I wonder why she didn’t ask me for a rubber? I keep some, but I don’t bother since I can’t get sick. She’s probably on birth control. I doubt if she’s the kinda reckless bitch that gets knocked up by a strange man. Oh, fuck. My dick’s in her pussy. I wasn’t expectin her to be this fuckin tight.
“Wait.” She gasps.
Little Birdie wasn’t expectin this much dick. I don’t wanna hurt her. I usually don’t care about shit like that, but I can’t hurt her. I need her to need me, and hurtin her ain’t gonna help.
“We can go as slow as you wanna, baby.”
"Ain't no way you gonna stop my flow."
~DMX~
Love me when the sun is shining. Love me when it is cold and dark. Love me when I am difficult to love. Love me when I push you away. Love me when I beg you to stay. Love me when I say that I don't love you anymore. Love me when I don't love myself. Love me when my words are untrue. Love me because my heart will always belong to you. ~JANJAN UNTAMED~
"It all started with a cough."
There is a knock on the bedroom door. I wipe at the eye on my good side before telling my father to come in.
"Duma, are you okay sweetheart?"
I turn away from the mirror and Jude's reflection. I don't want him to see me like this. What is he doing in here?
"You shouldn't be here Jude. I want you to leave." He closes the door behind him. What in the hell is he doing? Trying to get me beaten?
"I came to check on you. I had to. Don't worry, the men went out to find the safest route out of here before they put you back on a horse. I have been dying to see you. Your father has been guarding your door like a grizzly bear."
"Why? So that you can see if it is as bad as it looked? It is worse, I look like a monster."
"You are no monster Duma Dar. You are a warrior."
"Warrior’s don't catch the eye of potential husbands." I laugh bitterly.
"No, maybe not, but they catch the heart."
"Only if he's blind." I say blotting my bad eye with a clean rag. It waters all of the time.
"You caught mine Duma."
His voice is soft and close to my ear. This is a sin. Jude knows that he shouldn’t be in here, let alone breathing into my ear. This is ungodly. I cover my stitches with my hand in a weak effort to shield them from his pretty black eyes.
"I don’t understand.”
Jude turns me so that I am facing him. He forces my hand down away from my face.
"Don't hide from me Duma. I still love you."
"Don't say that Jude." I breathe.
"Why not? It's the truth." He says softly. His lips press against the puckered skin of my cheek. I should stop him. I can’t.I don’t want to. My eyes close.
"You love me?" I don't believe him.
"I have always loved you."
Judea Hamilton
From the novel The Doomsday Papers
Devil's Darling
Chapter One
My day began as a nightmare. The devils raped me all night long. The devils were still raping me an hour ago. They showed me no mercy. For devils are born without mercy. They are born without righteousness. They are born without care. Devils are born with black hearts, white skin, and an evil inside them that never rests. There is no rest for the wicked on the Sinclair plantation. There is no rest for the weary. No amount of sleep can take away a lifetime of exhaustion. I always feel older than my eighteen years.
I yawn tiredly. My jaws crack and click from sucking so many faceless, small, pink cocks. There is hardly any strength left in my sore muscles from working all day and being used all night. I have the knees and back of an old woman and the spirit of someone who is tired of living. No amount of sleep can take away a lifetime of exhaustion. Slavery is a prison with gates that never open. It is ailment and the only cure for it is death.
The devils never offered me a drop of water to quench my thirst or a cloth to wipe away the seed between men. It pleases them to see me in such a state. Devils are vicious creatures. This is the second day that I have not seen my pallet and it is morning again. The old cock slumbering in the yard has yet to crow. The sun has yet to rise. And for some Godforsaken reason, Old Phil has summonsed me again. Whatever he wants will hurt. Hopefully, it won’t last long.
Why does it have to be me? God is frowning down on me for wishing the devil had summonsed another, but I am tired. I am so tired that I think it would be heavenly if I go to sleep and never wake up again. This is no life. This is hell. My satin slippers are silent on the shiny floors as I hurry through the quiet house at this ungodly hour. The softness in my steps comes from years of practice. There is nothing quieter than me. Not still water. Not still air. Not even death. Nothing is as soundless as I am. My silence helps me to be invisible.
My hell smells of fresh flowers in porcelain vases and beeswax from a recent wood polishing. A polishing that I, myself, oversaw to be certain the task was performed properly. Everything must be perfect no matter the day or hour. This mansion is famous for its perfect southern charm, and broken, obedient slaves.
I walk past generations of old furniture and masterpieces from Italy and France. Old Phil’s grandparents purchased the art on their tour abroad. They came back and died from Tuberculosis. If the stories I hear are true, it couldn’t have happened to a more deserving couple. The dead grandparents were before my time, but their devil spawn is doing them proud.
The evil blue eyes of their ugly, wrinkled, red-faced ancestor’s watch me with contempt from their portraits on the white walls. All were devils who did the devil’s work in this house before the family currently in residence. Their ancestors did the world a great service by dying. I hope they are resting in eternal hell with their maker.
A glance at the German clock on the heavy mantle tells me that it is four a.m. I keep what are called slave hours. That means I am always on my feet. I sleep when they tell me to. I eat when they tell me to. I fuck when they tell me to. I am breathing because they say I can breathe. I know this house better than anyone else. I see all. I hear all. I know all. Nothing gets past me.
Fallon loves that clock more than she loves her own children. I am the only one allowed to touch it because they trust me. She has good taste in everything, right down to the green dress that I am wearing. I am her favorite pet. She enjoys showing me and her clock to her devil friends. I hate her more than anyone else will ever hate her.
Heaven forbid I wake a devil woman while walking past their door. I will end up helping her wash, or dress, or something else unpleasant that I do not want to do. Devils are a lazy sort. They cannot feed themselves. They cannot wash themselves. They are like helpless, pink babies until it is time to weld a whip or drop their pants. They are strongest when exercising their cruelty.
However, as dirty as the chore is, I would rather wash a stinking devil woman than do whatever the old man has called upon me to do. If I stop to help someone else, and do not make it to him, old Phil will make me pay later. It is best to get it over with and heal all at once.
The banister is cool and smooth underneath my hand as I make my way up the curved staircase to the second floor. My fingers slide easily over the wood the way our bottoms did when we were screaming children sliding down it for fun. That was when my laughter echoed through the house. I was still a child back then. It seems like so long ago.
Those innocent years as a small girl were deceiving. I was not a child or innocent for long.
“Look at you all dressed up pretty foah me.” Elliot's slow drawl, and handsome looks make me smile. “Good mornin’, my sweet Darlin’.”
Darling Unchained
Coffee, I write you this letter as my circumstances have changed…
“Elliot and Hazel are having a baby.” I swallow down my disappointment. “He moved me out of the house at his mother’s request. If I search him out upon my return or speak to him, he will send me to the fields.” My eyes search for Dominic’s. “He is the only person who defends me. Elliot is the only Sinclair who shows me kindness. I will be alone.”
“Or you can run and be whoever you want to be.” He offers me an alternative. “Elliot will be fine without you. I promise.”
“Excuse me?” I laugh nervously. “Are you telling me to run away from Elliot?”
“Yes.” Dominic says flatly. “Run like hell.”
“What if they catch me? You know what they do to runaways.”
“What if you make it? I can take you as far north as New York. No one will find you there. I can buy you a house and give you money to get started.”
“Alone?” I gasp in horror. “You want to leave me in New York by myself?”
“You are safer alone in New York that you are with my uncle and cousin. There will be others like you who are searching for friends. It will be better than dying on a cotton plantation waiting for Elliot to fuck you and my uncle to kill you.”
“Why would you help me?”
“Because I pity you. I would rather die than be what you are. There is life outside of slavery if you want to see it instead of reading about it. You will be free to love someone who is free to love you back. With his first child on the way, you will soon be forgotten.”
“He needs my help running the plantation.” I stutter dumbly. “He misses me but I should recover here to give him and Hazel time to repair their marriage.”
“Is that what he said in the letter?” Dominic laughs. “Elliot wants you to come back to raise Hazel’s children. Why be her maid when you can have your own?”
“Elliot loves me. After the baby comes, things will go back to the way they were.”
“Listen to me.” He says patiently. “They bonded in that fire. You were not there to see them together. I did. He made his choice when he left you in that shack to burn to death. He never visited you while you were laid up because it would upset Hazel. Leave while you are young enough to enjoy your freedom. This is your only chance. Once you are back on the plantation, there is no escaping it. You have time to think about it. There is no need to look so afraid. It will be a month or two before I feel comfortable sending you off on your own. You need a plan.”
Why am I disappointed when he stands up to leave? Do I want him to stay? My body is warm from looking at this devil in his fitted pants and black jacket. Why am I so nervous? Do I want Dominic to touch me? I do. I want him to touch me. I want him to kiss me and fuck away my worries. He makes me forget Elliot.
“Dominic.”
He stops and looks back at me. “Yes. Marceline?”
The words that I want to speak to him are stuck on my tongue. I feel like a fool for even thinking them. The devil will laugh at me if I admit my feelings for him.
“Is there something that you wish to say to me, wench?”
This is Dom the devil. Look at him. He is handsome enough to be the devil with that face. He is taller than the devil, and I never admitted it before, but he has the best form.
“I… I never thanked you for saving my life.” This is not what I want to say. “Thank you.”
“My sins against you are redeemed.”
His blue eyes change and are not so cruel when he smiles. The colors could be the playful boy that he never was, screaming in the wind and dancing naked in the sun.
“Goodnight, Coffee.”
"Goodnight, Dominic."
Chapter Four
I lay back against the pillows thinking about the others. The slaves sleeping on a dirt floor in the same filthy dress that she wears every day. She works and sleeps in a circle while I lay here in a white ladies’ bed with a full belly and a hurting heart. What can I do? I can do what Samuel’s sister said. They need teachers to help other women who run. I can accept Dominic’s help and hide them in New York. He is right. I can spend the rest of my life being Hazel’s maid and waiting for Elliot to fuck me, or I can see the world.
I can visit the Pyramids in Egypt. I can go wherever I want. As much as I love Elliot, I will never choose him over seeing the world. My work is better served off plantation. What if I had my own office with my own books? My heartbeat quickens. It gets cold in New York. I could sit in front of the fireplace with a plate of cake and a pot of tea and read into the night. In my own house. By myself. I would rather be by myself than live my days being afraid of the old devil. It is a matter of time before Elliot puts me out there with him.
This is no reason to fall into his cousin’s arms. The devils will never appreciate me. I knock twice. Dominic’s steps are unhurried as I count them to the door. He opens it and steps aside, giving me the choice to enter or run away. This is so wrong. How can I do this to Elliot? How can I do it to myself when I know how unpredictable he is. Dominic is standing here, half-dressed, and looking like someone that damsels should run away from. Two drops of drying blood stain his cuffs. Has he been fighting again? Did he stab someone?
“Are you hurt?” I ask him with concern.
“You are bleeding.”
“That is a very sweet sentiment, but this blood belongs to someone else.”
Dominic takes my hand, pulls me into his bed chamber, and closes the door behind me.
“Are they hurt?” I ask him next.
He fed on someone. Another drop of blood stains his collar. Which one of them was it?
“Maybe.” He replies, picking up the glass of wine that he was enjoying before I came. “Why are you here, wench? I put you to bed an hour ago.”
There is no hate behind the word. He wants to know why I came to his room in the middle of the night when everyone is asleep. Coming here was a mistake. I should turn around and leave.
“Who is she?”
The words are out before I can stop them. I asked Dominic who he was with.
“Why would I tell you something that will make you cry?” He smiles in amusement. “You are jealous enough without knowing who I keep company with.”
“Are you in love with her?” I demand angrily. “Is she a white woman?”
Dominic watches me have a break down over something as silly as who he spends his time with. And whether or not she is white. What has gotten into me? Why am I here?
“What if she is? Does her being white somehow make it easier for you to accept?”
My eyes fill with tears before I attack him. I hate him. I want to kill him. Dominic restrains me, but he is not fighting me back. He lets me hit and kick him until I tire out and begin to cry.
“Are you finished?”
Dominic is smiling. His eyes are alight with the laughter that he is holding back.
“Go ahead and laugh at me.” I scream at him. “This is a game to you. You play with me and put me back on the shelf to rot. I am something to amuse yourself with and I hate you.”
“You did not come here in the middle of the night to tell me how much you hate me. I believe you got off track when you saw someone else’s blood on my person and assumed I was with a lover. What do you want from me? Tell me or leave me in peace. I am going to bed.”
“I should not have come here. Good night.”
Dominic’s hands reach out and stop me when I head for the door.
“Thank you for the cake. It was unexpected.”
“It was carrot cake.” I wipe my eyes. “With white sugar frosting.”
“My favorite.”
His deep murmur vibrates in my chest and between my legs. Dominic makes me nervous.
“I wanted to bake it myself, but you are right. I cannot cook or bake. I am useless on my own two feet. Sarah showed me how to measure out the ingredients and told me how to mix them. ”
“You baked me a cake?” He asks in disbelief. “Have you ever cooked anything before?”
“No.” I hate to admit. “It was my first time. Sarah stood over my shoulder to make sure I did it right. I wish I could take credit for her work.”
“You remembered my birthday.” Dominic turns me away from the door. “And you tried.”
His smile is nice when it comes from his heart. This is the boy I met before the south got a hold of him. Dominic is still holding my hand.
“You are away from home and Fallon always has a party…”
“My home is in the Indies.” He stops me. “And I hate my aunt’s parties. The cake was nice. In fact, I can’t quite remember when I was ever this pleased with a dessert before.”
And I have never been this pleased because someone was pleased with a dessert. I smile with my mouth closed. I hate him most when he is flirting. Especially with someone else. I am jealous of Hazel for having Elliot. And jealous of any female who is in the same room with Dominic.
“Sarah will be pleased to hear how much you enjoyed it.” My mind is too muddled to think straight. “I should go. I apologize for disturbing you.”
“Hold on now.” Dominic stops me again. “You came to see me for a reason.” He touches the bow on my gown. “What do you need from me, Darling?”
I open my mouth to answer and close it again because what I want to say is silly.
“Where was this modesty when you were screaming how much you hate me, you coward?” Dominic wraps the bow around his hand and uses it to pull me closer. “I want you to say it.”
“Will you hold me?”
The devil’s haunting eyes watch me wrap my arms around myself to await his answer. He thinks I am a fool for loving Elliot. He thinks I am a fool for coming to him for comfort.
“Dressed.” Dominic’s soft voice makes me shiver. “Or undressed?”
“Undressed.” I whisper. “If you do not mind.”
I see beauty where others don't.
~JANJAN UNTAMED~
Jacks Are Wild
~Bandit~
I was never into good boys. I crushed on the bad boys with bad attitudes and good hair. The boys more likely to go to jail than any fucking college. I liked the boys that weren’t team players. The boys with their own style. The ones whospent most of the school year in detention. The troublemakers, the earth shakers, the restless heartbreakers that didn’t walk in line. The rebel boys who were outcasts like me. I grew into a woman that crushed on wild men. Jack is the wildest of them all.
I get heart palpitations when I think about how devastatingly handsome he was the first time I saw him. I never wanted to fuck anyone so bad in my life. Jack’s glorious chestnut hair is shaggy, and thick with loose curls. He had on a pair of faded jeans, and a white t-shirt with a stupid peace sign on it. It was stupid because he’s a killer. My killer was rocking the hell out of this really great leather jacket with buckles and chains on it. His feet were encased in these bad-ass leather boots with shiny steel toes, sharp spikes around the bottom edges, and metal spurs on back. They clinked like bells and spun when he walked like a desperado. Jack doesn’t ride horses. He rides the fuck out of women.
He is dangerously delicious. Jack is everything that my chaotic imagination can dream up. The worst bad boy that I could find. The kind that wears shades at night and silver rings with skulls on them. His blue eyes are razor sharp. His arrogant swagger put the biggest assholes to rest. He has a big dick and zero class. I knew he was trouble with a capitol T, and I was all over his ass. I had a one-sided obsession with him that wasn’t returned. Not even after I was a part of his household. You see, I was not for loving. I was for fucking.
“I've been to hell, baby. The devil shook my hand and told me that he admires my work."
~Jack J. Roberts~
“It all started with a cough."
~Duma Dare~
Doomsday Papers
During this dark and tragic time, I found love in the most unexpected place. Me, the unfortunate one.
~Dumani Dare~
Something wicked is coming. Readers with triggers or sexual inhibitions should skip the taboo section. This part isn't for you. Respectfully.
The Taboo Spot
For hardcore taboo readers only
The Sweet Jane Collection
“Jane.”
“No, Loki. Let me go. I want to be alone.”
Her useless attempt to escape my hold is a waste of energy that would be better spent with her body sweating underneath mine. If her tearful plea is meant to make me release her, it doesn’t work. I don’t give a fuck about her anger. I don’t care if she wants to be alone. I watch her struggle against my hold, careful not to hurt her in any way. I swallow her vicious insults about how fucked up I am. I listen to her tell me how much she hates me for the thousandth time. I eat her punches when she throws them at my face. And I don’t take offense.
I hold on to my woman. I hold on because she wants me to. When she runs, she wants me to chase her. When she tells me she hates me and tells me to leave, she is testing me to see if I will really do it. Jane wants me to love her no matter what.
“Stop it, baby.” I lock my arms around her. “Stop it. I am not going anywhere and neither are you. I don’t want you to be alone when you are upset. I want you to yell at me and swear at me. Crack me in the face if you think I deserve it. Get it out of your system so that I can fuck you and get it out of mine. We work out our shit together.”
Look for The Sweet Jane Collection in May of 2024
Beautiful Bastard
A Taboo Tale
The smell of her clean body makes my cock painfully hard. There are a hundred cunts gathered. The intoxicating draw of hers eclipses them all. My body tightens as I listen to the sound of her heart pumping blood through her veins. Thump thump. Thump thump. Thump thump. Thump… a long pause. Thump. The bitch has a weak heart. She has a condition that she was born with. She won’t live to see thirty. I can’t wait that long for her to die.
I am taken by the heady aroma of her foreign flesh. The urge to punish her with my cock will not be denied. My senses are sharper than my sword. I smell every cunt in attendance, however, hers is more appealing than the others. She is bleeding. The perfume of her bleeding cunt has me spellbound. The crimson nectar flowing out of her is the same blood that nourishes her body with every beat of her weak heart. I have to taste her woman's blood. I won’t rest until I do. The bitch is inside my head, controlling my thoughts, and I can’t make them stop. The only way to end my suffering is to plunge my cock inside her again and again before I end her life.
“Lord Dudley’s wife and children would like to thank you all for gathering to pay your last respects to a great man.” Father O’Brian speaks for the bitch, not me. “Dudley is smiling down on this scene before us. He loved his family more than anything else.”
Lies. Lord Dudley is smiling upward from his place in the deepest pits of hell. He traded any hopes of getting into heaven for the bitch. The same bitch is six feet away from me breathing easily when I wish she was in the fucking ground with Dudley. The rise and fall of her chest disgusts me. I resent every breath of air that she dares to take for herself. She doesn’t deserve air. She doesn’t deserve to be this close to me. How dare she show her face here?
My bastard sister.
Look for Beautiful Bastard in 2024
Unforgivable
Whatever she’s dealing with is much worse than Valentine senior and the shit that I carry around in my head. All it takes is for a creep like Ruth to show up and remind you that it could be worse. You could be her.
“What does he do to you, Valentine?” Ruth’s dark eyes widen. “Does he beat you?”
Judging from the fear in them, she knows a thing or two about beatings first-hand.
“Yeah. He used to beat me when I was a kid. It got harder to do when I grew up.”
Ruth is shuffling her feet and wringing her hands together. She’s freaking out. Her family fucked her up. No wonder she ran. She didn’t run soon enough, if you ask me.
“Hey.” I move the eggs off the burner when I’m close enough. “They can’t hurt you anymore. I won’t ever let them hurt you again. I promise.”
“Stay away from me, Valentine.” Ruth is shaking in my hands. “I am trouble.”
“I know.” I hold her anyway. “I stay in trouble enough to know when I’m in trouble. Me and trouble are old friends.”