While I should have known better than to have any expectations of good prose from something that aligns itself with 50 Shades, the fact that Wilde is listed as an author gave me a little bit of hope. The concept of an erotic fiction version that involves Dorian's preserved physical beauty and the irretrievably corrupt soul was and remains an appealing one. The delivery fails on every single note. Dorian is two dimensional, his anguish is easily dismissed.
The rest of the characters are unremarkable at best (in a strangely misogynistic way - they can either be perfectly virtuous virgins who are eager to please but are shocked by a spanking, or time ravaged whores who grow increasingly unattractive because they approach life like their male counterparts). Had the quality of language been impressive, I may have forgiven the whole thing - but the fact that the author (like so many) cannot tell the anatomical difference between the vulva and the vagina made the entire reading process even more irritating.
I am sad to have wasted the little time I did reading this, and even more sad that an excellent concept was so poorly realized.