Novels by Ashlyn Powers

Hours had passed since it happened, but the feeling hadn’t left Chiara. She’d spent all day hiding in her room, avoiding Dante, yet all she could think about was the way his tongue felt the other day. She should have been ashamed—but she wasn’t. Everything about that moment had felt right to her.Her core twitched, and she bit her bottom lip, letting out a soft moan. She could still remember the dizzying heat of being close to her first orgasm—and the hollow, aching emptiness when he stopped and told her to leave. Part of her had wanted to beg him to continue. But the other part—the part that refused to give Dante the satisfaction of breaking her—had made her comply and walk out.Still, she craved the feeling again. But…She was familiar with the concept of self-pleasure, thanks to walking in on Aria once. Aria had left her with a few vague, awkward words, and Chiara had ended up doing her own research. She’d never looked at Aria the same since.Now, as she sat on her bed, her gaze ne

Chiara pressed her hand firmly against Dante’s chest and pushed him away. Her breathing was heavy—partly from the anger pulsing through her veins. She wiped her lips roughly with the back of her hand, like his touch had burned her.She had almost forgotten who Dante really was.The last punishment hadn’t been that long ago, but somehow, she had let herself believe—just for a second—that he didn’t still see her as his possession.If she hadn’t been sitting on Dante’s bed, she would’ve collapsed onto the floor again. Her throat tightened painfully, and she bit down on her bottom lip like it could stop the tears threatening to spill.She had chosen the punishment. She had agreed to it. But now... she wished she had just listened to Dante and stayed at his house.“M-My throat still hurts,” she stuttered, pressing her back harder into the bed frame, like she could sink into it and vanish from his view.Dante’s lips curled slightly. His eyes crinkled with amusement as a low laugh escaped hi

Chiara looked at her phone anxiously, the ringing starting to give her a headache. The date had just started, and she felt like an idiot for calling him so soon. When the beeping cut off, her anxiety turned into relief.“H-Hello, it’s Chiara.” She paused, waiting for a response. When she got none, she continued talking. “C-Can you pick—”“I’m already here. Come out of the bathroom so we can leave.”She let out a breath she didnt know she was holding, and made a beeline to the door as the call ended. As she went back to where Satefan and her had been eating, the scene that met her eyes made her freeze in place. She stared, stunned. Dante stood in front of an unconscious Stefan, his fist bloody—and she could tell from the blood on Stefan's face, that it wasn’t Dante's blood.“W-What happe—?”“It doesn’t matter. Let’s leave.” He extended his bloody hand for Chiara to hold, and she stepped forward hesitantly, her eyes locked on it in silence. He sighed and pulled it back, wiping it on his

Chiara arrived at the venue looking anxious and still trembling from her conversation with Dante. Her hand instinctively went to her throat and then quickly back to her side. She wasn't ready for another punishment, but she knew she was going to get one the moment she walked out of Dante's house.She drew in a sharp breath to calm herself and walked into the restaurant, her eyes scanning the place. Her grandfather had booked the entire venue to prevent her from sitting at the wrong table, and as she spotted the only person seated, her heart drummed loudly in her chest. His gaze was still fixed on his phone, but Chiara could recognize that face from anywhere."Stefan," she mumbled to herself, but he seemed to hear her as he looked up from his phone and straight into her eyes.As he smiled at her, she tensed but reluctantly dragged her feet toward him."Why was he the one here?" she thought to herself, biting her bottom lip as she tried to distract herself with the menu."Chiara," he mu

Two days. That was how long it had been since Dante and Chiara shared that kiss. She could still remember the cold look he gave her after pulling away—he hadn’t said a word before leaving her alone. They hadn’t spoken since. He always seemed to be anywhere Chiara wasn’t.“Why does he seem to be avoiding me?” she murmured, resting her head on her pillow. She stared blankly at the ceiling, trying to make sense of it.The kiss played again in her head, and her hand subconsciously went to her lips. There was something about Dante’s kiss—especially since he’d stopped kissing her so possessively—that lingered differently.“…It was just a kiss…”His words echoed like a broken record. He had said the same thing after the kiss at Nico’s funeral. Maybe to him it was nothing. But to an inexperienced Chiara, it meant so much more.“I can’t be thinking about him like that. I don’t have Stockholm syndrome,” she muttered, closing her eyes in a vain attempt to shut out the thoughts.Her ringtone buzz

Chiara woke up alone. The cold side of the bed where Dante had slept was a silent relief—her body wasn’t sore, and for a brief, foolish second, she almost believed last night hadn’t happened. But the hollow ache in her throat told the truth. She moved carefully, like the air itself might shatter her, until she found him in the kitchen, stirring a pot like he hadn’t broken her just hours ago.He turned at the sound of her footsteps, smiling too easily. “Good morning, Darling. I made you tea—for your throat—”“Does this seem like a joke to you?” Her voice cracked with anger, though her legs kept moving, dragging her closer to him.Dante’s smile faltered, his voice turning cold. “Maybe it is, Darling. What part of your punishment did you find amusing?” His gaze locked on hers, sharp and cutting. She flinched. He saw it—and smiled wider. “There it is.”He lifted the cup toward her like an offering. “Now, instead of picking a fight you’ll lose, come drink your tea. Your throat must be raw.