The Most Explosive Novel Since Fifty Shades of Grey

by BY LENA   Jan 17, 2023

Werewolf romance smash-hit, The Millennium Wolves spans over 7 books and has been read over 125 million times on the FlingFM app. The app has received recognition as many begin to notice that The Millennium Wolves is selling faster than Fifty Shades.

«You work for me, yes?” he taunts.

It takes a lot to get under my skin, and he’s done it. He’s arrogant, demanding, and »

«stubborn. He’s been obstinate since day one, and I’ve hit my limit. And I’m done catering to him.

“No,” I retort, “Evans Realty Services has contracted with your company on this project. We are not your servants, me least of all. And if you constantly refuse to see sense, I’m afraid we will be unable to meet your needs, signore.”

He closes his mouth, runs a finger along his chin, and narrows his eyes. In one swift movement he stands and takes a step toward me. I step back, and my palms touch the wall behind me. He hovers over me and leans his head toward me with a wicked smile on his full lips. His dark eyes now dance with amusement, causing my stomach to tie into knots and my heartbeat to thunder in my ears.

“Bravissima. Finally. Not many people are willing to stand up to me,” he says softly. He puts his lips at my ear and murmurs, “I like it.”

I briefly register in surprise that he’s been waiting for me to challenge him. But he’s never been this close to me, and the sensation overwhelms me quickly. 

«He smells of wine and spice, and it’s making my head spin and my breathing accelerate. I shake my head, struggling to think clearly. He regards me for a moment and steps back.

“I apologize … I …” and for once this man seems at a loss for words. He clears his throat. “I have never … it won’t happen again.” He seems to realize he’s crossed the line past his usual flirtation. But he looks disappointed.

“It’s late. We’re both tired. I think we should stop for the evening,” I offer. But the tone in the room has changed. I am no longer angry, or exhausted. Against my better judgment, I’m intrigued.

He turns his palms out. “As you wish,” he replies. But, perhaps sensing my weakness, he doesn’t move. I examine the hard lines of his face, his thick, dark hair, his strong shoulders, and well-sculpted arms and chest in his designer button-up shirt. My eyes meet his, and I can tell he sees my thoughts. “If that’s what you really want?”

I close my eyes briefly and take a deep breath, struggling to control the desire welling in me. But when I reopen my eyes he is standing over me. He raises his hand and runs a finger along my cheek as if asking for permission. My inner desires spring free of their cage, and my resolve melts. And I know what my answer is.

Dear God, yes. I tip my head back and part my lips. A small smile of triumph flits across his face and he grasps me firmly by the chin.

Softly, he touches his lips to mine, his mouth warm and yielding, waiting for any sign of protest. It’s been so long since I’ve so much as kissed anyone, and my whole body responds, shutting down any logic, any objections. A small sigh escapes me, and I kiss him back, gently moving my lips with his. My encouragement is enough. He wraps his arms around me and his kiss deepens, his tongue searching for mine.

My inhibitions melt away, and I run my hands through his hair, over his shoulders, down his arms as he presses me into the wall, his hands roving my body. His mouth moves along my jaw, neck, and shoulders, kissing and nipping a blazing trail before returning to mine.

With one hand he pulls my body to his, the other runs down my ***** and circles my hardening nipple over my clothes. His warm, firm touch on my skin causes me to gasp with pleasure. He smiles and kisses my ear.

«You feel even more amazing than I’d imagined, Bella,” he murmurs into my ear, his voice like warm honey.

“Maybe if you’d spent a little less time thinking about that and focused on work,” I tease him.

He puts both of his hands on my face and looks intently into my eyes, and my body tenses with anticipation.

“Yes,” he admits, “but you’ve been a very pleasant distraction. And I’d very much like to do all manner of sinful things to you right here on this table.” He kisses me softly.

“Mmmmmm,” I moan. “This doesn’t seem like the best place.”

But even I know we are the only people in the office. Though as I’ve found him as frustrating as he is fascinating for the months we’ve worked on this project together, I feel like I shouldn’t let him persuade me so easily.

«It’s just you and me,” he assures me, and reading my hesitation, he trails warm kisses down my neck once more. I press my palms to his strong, broad chest and gently push him away. I look up into his deep, dark eyes. He sighs. “I see.”

I shake my head. “Not here,” I plead softly. He raises an eyebrow. “We meet here every day. It would be very difficult for me to pretend that it didn’t happen when we’re all in here tomorrow,” I add. He laughs, and the full, deep noise echoes around the room.

“Yes,” he concedes. “Though it won’t matter where for me; I already have a hard time pretending to be around you.” He folds his hand over mine and kisses each of my fingers in turn. “And it’s getting harder by the minute.”

Everything logical in me protests, distrusting his motives, his sincerity. But the part of me that’s responded to him all that time has been let out of her cage, and she’s taken over the driver’s seat. His eyes sparkle as if he knows.

“Bring your things, we’re going to my place,” he commands.

And the proof that his kisses and caresses have clouded my judgment and obliterated my self-control comes in the form of a giggled response to his direction, “Yes, sir.»

A short ride later, Alessandro leads me into his large, high-ceilinged penthouse apartment.

 Placing his things on a small table, he pulls my bag out of my arms and lets it drop gently to the floor before restarting his sensual assault. He wraps his hands in my hair and pulls my face greedily to his. His kisses are hard and insistent, his tongue fighting with mine as he pulls me «into his bedroom. I’m past resisting now, absorbed fully in the moment, as desperate for this to happen as he seems to be.

As he backs me to the bed, his hands fly down his shirt buttons. When he’s done, I eagerly push the fabric away from his body. Running my hands down his sculpted chest and stomach, I marvel at their definition, the softness of his skin over his firm muscles.

“I’ve wanted you since the moment I saw you,” he says huskily between feverish kisses.

My pulse races as I stare lustfully at him. “I find that hard to believe,” I murmur.

He shakes his head and “tsks” at me. “Then perhaps I need to convince you,” he grins lasciviously at me, grasps the hem of my dress, and pulls it abruptly over my head. His eyes rove hungrily over my soft curves and my white cotton ***.

I stare back, conscious of how my tall, fleshy body must compare to the tiny, athletic Italian women he must surely be used to bedding. Goodness knows I’ve seen that one who works for him — Francesca, his assistant — flirt with him shamelessly.

His thick fingers tug gently at my long, brown hair. They drop to caress the top of my ******, running down my stomach, lingering over the cloth below my navel. His touch is rough and warm, and each caress sends shivers of pleasure through my whole body. In a smooth, practiced motion he’s worked my leggings and panties around my hips. They fall to the floor as he deftly unclasps my ***, freeing my ******* from the binding material. I gasp at the suddenness of my ****** and he chuckles pleasurably. I step out of the pile of cloth at my feet and kick it giddily away from me.

«And suddenly I’m on my back, his tongue working its way into my mouth, his hands at my breast and between my thighs. His thumbs make mirror motions, both gently circling my sensitive flesh. I cry out in pleasure, overwhelmed by his touch. My cry clearly pleases him as he sighs into my mouth and presses the stiff outline under his ******** into my *****.

“Hmmmm, I think you just enjoy torturing me,” I breathe. I sit up and grab his belt, pulling him to stand in front of me. I maintain eye contact as I deftly unhook his buckle and lower his ******.

His dark eyes lock on mine, and his breath quickens as my thumbs pull the rest of his clothing off, unfurling his *********. Breaking away from the heat of his gaze, I look at him. “Maybe it’s time to return the favor,” I say softly.

I lay my hands gently on his hips and bring my open mouth a hair’s breadth from his waiting *********. His sharp intake of breath brings a mischievous smile to my face. Slowly, I ease the glistening tip between my lips, swirling my tongue from bottom to top and over again, slowly, relishing his obvious pleasure.

“Ohhhh, mio Dio,” Alessandro moans and he reaches for me.

I weave my fingers with his to keep control. And for one breath more I maintain my slow rhythm before plunging him deep into my throat, sheathing him tightly with my lips, then ******* him as I pull him back out, and over again.

His breathing accelerates, his hands squeezing mine hard. “Serafina …” my name is from his lips.

I relent and replace my mouth with my hand as I stand to meet his lips with mine.

His kiss is fervent as I stroke him, and I can feel the hot moisture between my ****.

He guides me back onto the bed and kneels between my legs, quickly rolling on a ******.

As I watch him, my whole body aches in anticipation, the *** heat between my legs practically unbearable. He presses his forehead to mine as he slips **** inside of me. The glorious, full sensation of him is like a wake-up call, and I bite back a cry of pleasure as his own rings through the room. He pauses, kissing me, running his teeth along my lip as he pulls back. My hips twitch under him, but he presses his hands against me, pinning me under him.

“Don’t stop,” I beg him.

He smiles sultrily, then draws himself back further only to quickly plunge deeply into me again, holding me in place to take his pleasure. His need is obvious in his rough, full thrusts, and my body responds. I wriggle free, wrapping my legs around him, using it to rise to meet his thrusts, my breath quick and gasping. I bite my lip hard, holding back a moan.

His chest lowers over me as he falls to his rest on his arms. “Let go,” he says into my ear, his tone as rough as the sex. And it pushes me over the ****. I lock my mouth onto his, our tongues greedily consuming each other. He thrusts into me and I *******, grabbing the sheets under me, my back arching off the bed, a loud cry escaping me. He buries his smile of satisfaction in my hair, his lips pressed to my neck as he moves.

As my breathing recovers, I weave my fingers into his hair and whisper in his ear, “My turn.” Resting on his arms once more to meet my gaze, he looks at me questioningly. “On top,” I clarify.

He lets out a small, eager moan. “If you insist,” he replies.

I wiggle out from under him and he rolls onto his back, propping himself up on his elbows and watching me curiously. Lying next to him, I meet his lips with mine, stroking him with my hand. As he wraps his arms around me, I slide my leg astride his hips, hovering over him. I push myself into a fully upright position, hands on his chest, allowing my thumbs to catch his ******** as I run my fingers down him.

Swinging my hips downward, I capture him between my legs and slide him inside me, eliciting a synchronized moan of pleasure from us both. My body quivers with the excitement of having missed this for so long.

I grasp his arms tightly, gently rocking back and forth. He goes still and moans in pleasure. I gingerly rise and fall, burying him deep in me before slowly easing him out again. His hands find my hips and follow my motions, his head flung back, groan after groan escaping his lips as I ride him, my own cries of pleasure mounting. I’m nearing ******* again when his grip on my hips tightens, slowing my pace.

“Not yet,” he growls, and he pushes me off him, climbing up onto his knees while flipping me on my stomach in front of him. He pulls my ass into the air. “Spread your ****,” he commands.

I push myself up on my elbows and comply. A moment later I feel him slide into me, harder than ever. His hands grasp my hips and he lunges, burying himself so he’s completely sheathed in me. I suppress a scream of pleasure. He leans forward, teasing my nipple with his hand.

“Don’t hold back,” he rasps, slowly easing in and out. “I want to hear you.”

I groan in agreement, and he gradually picks up his rhythm and depth until he is slowly, steadily pumping deeply. I want to explode under the sweet torture, but it’s just out of reach. I don’t withhold my ***** of pleasure and protest, and I’m aching for the frenzied pace that unlocked my body’s long-dormant ability to send waves of pleasure crashing through me in ******. As he goes to ease into me once more, I buck my hips impatiently, driving him in deep and hard.

He gasps. “No, Sera,” he cautions, taking himself out of me. I growl in frustration and I can almost hear the smile in his voice when he says, “What do you want?”

“**** me, Alessandro,” I breathe. He moans.

“Ah, dolcezza, I love hearing you say that,” he sighs.

And with that he’s pounding into me, taking me so roughly that it’s simultaneously painful and mind-blowingly delicious. Screams rip from my throat, and I’ve lost the ability to tense my own body…

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