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Villain Transmigration: Author Transformation

[ENRICHED WITH MATURE CONTENT. PLEASE READ WITH CAUTION. ] AUTHOR TRANSMIGRATION "I want to write Villain perspective! Enough of this Hero and Heroine gig!" Nathalie Jean Quinn, life was so ordinary until she wrote the first book of her sequel, The Prince's Retribution, swept all over the literature world and garnered massive fan base and fortune. Now, she wanted to leave out of her comfort zone and challenge herself-- To seek the memoirs of a villainess in the story; for its sequel, The Prince's Ascension, Mystique is revealed. But even the management and the audiences begged to differ, so she made her way. Although, in the middle of completing the Sequel, the main villain, Mystique Blackwell, comes for her in that magical encounter and cursed her. Will Nathalie now transform to a monster that she created in her own story? *** Excerpt*** "You're mine. Am I clear? You're my property." Mystique was pressing her thighs against his, which he could never break free from her beguiling clutches. She was on top of him; the surge of confidence came with her and took charge for the whole ride. Her eyes were obscured with gleaming lust, and her hands worked their wonders and slinked to his chiseled abs up to his brawn sweaty chest. Every time she landed a smooth caress, he let out a stuttering moan as he was in spasms. His toes would dig deep into the mattress, no different from his nails that clawed, not trying to touch her sacred body. It wasn't all as she reached for his nipples, rubbing them ever-so-softly. The man would throw his bobbed back to the woolly pillows and arched his back from pleasure. Even though the bed creaked—fast and subtle that played their ears—she loved it. Just as she adored every point in him... Not a second delayed as he would shiver every time she would stroke the same parts of him. On the other hand, she has kept up the pace ever since. She crashed her well-endowed chest against his. Their lips parted by a hair's breadth, and he gritted his teeth as he saw her angelic feature up-close, driven by ecstasy. His gestures and countenance fueled her within, hastening the pace. There, he couldn't control his voice and let out pleasurable groans and grunts. Within those seconds, more thoughts began to blur her. She grabbed a handful of his hair, bringing him closer to her while whispering his ear. "You're mine. Am I clear? You're my property." *** P,S, The book has come to an end in a good note! Thank you so much for reading!

Aethereal · Fantasía
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322 Chs

Knocking Ones Opportunity

A hidden rage coated her tone.

Like she made a mistake, blowing things up and out of the accord.

Though Athan kept a straight face yet his insides churned from wanting to jump in fright.

'Can't believe she's back already.'

He sighed, turning around and noticed Mystique, hands on her waist, looking at him up and down like he was some filth in her exquisite room.

"Maybe if you hadn't let Nero stay in this…" Athan trailed off his voice and started to look around, pretending to be dubious about the room he was in that was filled with bad energy, "room, then I wouldn't panic, isn't it so?"

[Doesn't matter.] She then pointed the small dent and a slight sizzle near the knob and lock of the door. [You have crude manners.]

"I doubt you'd still let me in," he scoffed. "I assure you that's the case, with Lady Marriane Isabelle Salvatore in here." He began to point at her with a smug grin.

[Didn't I tell you Nero has yet to recover? Just wait in your chamber and entertain few ladies—]