Novels by Durune

Fred shifted his weight, rolling onto his side but keeping her tucked against him. He kissed her temple, his breath finally slowing. "I didn't want to come back here," he whispered. Tasha blinked, her eyes focusing on the ceiling. "Why?" "Because I knew if I saw you, I wouldn't be able to leave again. I spent three years trying to convince myself that the life I was building was enough, but it was just a hollow shell. I was building a house with no one inside it." Tasha remained silent for a moment, listening to the wind howl outside. She felt the dampness of his seed leaking from her, a warm reminder of the connection they had just reclaimed. "You were a coward, Fred," she said, though there was no bite in her voice. "I know." "You ran away from the hard part. You thought success would fix the fear." "I thought it would make me worthy of you," he admitted. Tasha turned in his arms, her eyes searching his. The anger hadn't vanished—it had just been burned away by something more powerf

The sky over the Blue Ridge Mountains didn't just rain; it collapsed. Silver needles of water hammered the corrugated tin roof of the cedar cabin, creating a roar that drowned out everything but the frantic beating of Tasha's heart. She stood by the hearth, clutching a wool blanket around her shoulders, watching the front door swing open with a violent crash. Fred stepped inside, drenched to the bone. His charcoal suit, once a symbol of the high-rise life he had chosen over her, clung to his frame like a second, suffocating skin. Water streamed from the tip of his nose and pooled around his leather oxfords. "The bridge at the creek is gone," Fred shouted over the thunder. "Completely washed away. We aren't getting out of here tonight." Tasha didn't move. She stayed in the amber glow of the fire, her eyes tracking the way his chest heaved. Three years. Three years of silence, broken by a legal notice that they had both inherited this rotting sanctuary from their old mentor, Elias. "I t

He reached around to pinch her nipples, twisting them hard. The dual sensation of the penetration and the pain sent Gloria over the edge. She felt her internal muscles clench around him in a series of violent spasms.She shrieked as her orgasm crashed over her, a wave of heat that started in her clit and radiated through her entire body. Cavendish let out a loud shout, his body stiffening as he pumped his seed deep into her. She felt the hot jets of his cum hitting her cervix, filling her to the brim.He stayed inside her for a long moment, his breath ragged against her neck. He slowly withdrew, the sound of his cock slipping out of her wet pussy a loud, suctioning pop.He unlocked the cuffs and helped her stand, his expression softening. He wrapped a silk robe around her shoulders, pulling her close to his chest."The studio is ready for you tomorrow," he said. "But tonight, you sleep in my bed."The following weeks were a blur of creation and submission. Gloria spent her days in a s

Lord Cavendish sat behind a mahogany desk that looked like it belonged in a museum. His silver hair was swept back, framing a face etched with the lines of a man who had seen and bought everything. He watched her with eyes the color of a winter sea."Your sketches are raw, Gloria," he said, his voice a low, resonant hum. "They possess a hunger that most trained artists spend decades trying to fake."Gloria shifted her weight, the soles of her cheap shoes squeaking on the polished floor. She looked at the towering bookshelves and the original canvases lining the walls. This room cost more than her entire hometown."I just want to create, My Lord," she whispered. "The tuition at the Academy is a mountain I cannot climb."Cavendish stood up, his tall frame casting a long shadow across the Persian rug. He walked toward her with a measured, predatory grace. He stopped just inches away, the heat from his body radiating through his charcoal suit."I can remove the mountain," he said. "I can

He leaned down, capturing one nipple in his mouth, sucking it hard while his lower body continued its relentless assault. Aria was lost in a sea of sensation, the friction of his cock against her walls creating a fire that threatened to consume her. She could feel the vibrations of his grunts, the way his balls slapped against her perineum with every thrust."I can feel you squeezing me," Valerius hissed, his pace accelerating. "You're trying to pull me deeper, aren't you?""Yes!" she cried out. "More! Give me more!"He shifted his angle, lifting one of her legs and draping it over his shoulder. This allowed him to penetrate even deeper, hitting a spot that sent waves of pleasure crashing through her. The sound of their sex became a symphony of shlicks and squelches, the air being pushed out of her as he hammered into her.Aria felt the climax building, a crescendo that started in her toes and coiled in her gut. Her internal muscles clamped down on him, milking the length of his shaft

Inside the gilded cavern of the Philharmonic Hall, the air tasted of old mahogany and expensive resin. Maestro Valerius stood on the podium, his silhouette a sharp, obsidian blade against the white glare of the spotlights.He didn't look at the orchestra so much as he dissected them. His baton remained motionless, a sliver of wood that held sixty musicians in a state of suspended animation. Then, his gaze shifted to the first chair, where Aria sat with her violin tucked under a chin of porcelain."From the second movement," Valerius commanded, his voice a low, resonant cello. "And for the love of God, Aria, stop playing the notes and start playing the grief."Aria tightened her grip on the bow. Her chest heaved, the silk of her blouse clinging to the curve of her breasts. She launched into the solo, the music soaring in a desperate, jagged arc that echoed through the hall.Valerius closed his eyes, his head tilting back. He didn't just hear the music; he felt it as a physical pressure