Novels by Sally02

I should have gone upstairs the second she kissed me. I should've locked my door, taken a cold shower, and reminded myself she’s off-limits. My boss’s daughter and she's just Twenty-one. Barely old enough to know what she’s asking for.But I didn’t.Instead, I sat on the edge of the couch, my body strung tight, cock aching against my slacks, feeling her lip gloss on my cheek. That reckless little smile of hers burned in my head, taunting me.She’s just a girl, Daniel. Walk away.That’s what I told myself. But then I heard it—the sound of her bare feet climbing down the hall.I looked up, and there she was.Lila leaned against the doorway like she’d been waiting for me to beg. She wasn’t even pretending to be innocent. Her Oversized shirt hanging off one shoulder, no bra, bare legs that went on forever. Her eyes flicked down to where my hand was fisted against my thigh, then back up to my face.“You didn’t follow me,” she said softly, tilting her head. “Thought you’d come check if I ma

When people hear I’m an assistant, they picture someone fetching coffee and shuffling papers in some corporate tower. In reality, I run half of Evelyn Hayes’s life—her meetings, her schedules, her flights, her social calendar, even her grocery deliveries. Without me, the woman would probably miss her own birthday party. It’s not particularly glamorous work, but it pays well, comes with room and board in a house nicer than anywhere I could afford on my own, and I genuinely don’t mind the order it brings to my days. Structure has always suited me.What I do mind, however, is her daughter.Lila Hayes. Twenty-one years old, a little wild around the edges, and far too sharp for her own good—or mine. I’d known her since she was still in high school, back when she’d trail behind her mother during summer breaks with oversized headphones looped around her neck, pretending not to care about the world spinning around her. She still pretends sometimes, but now she’s grown into herself in ways tha

My whole body burned, begging for something more, but Ethan stayed perfectly still, as if sleep had claimed him again.Then, just when I was about to break and reach for him myself—his fingers moved slowly. Testing a gentle rub over the thin lace, right against where I craved for him most. My lips parted in a sharp inhale, and I bit down hard on the pillow to muffle the sound.He knew I was awake. He had to. No one was touched like that by accident.The pressure grew firmer, his fingertips tracing slow circles before slipping beneath the lace. I was soaked, embarrassingly wet, and his groan against the back of my neck confirmed it.“Fuck,” he whispered so low I barely caught it.His fingers parted me, exploring and sliding through my slick folds before curling inside me with steady, deliberate precision. I gasped, clutching the sheets, every nerve of mine alive with the forbidden intimacy of it.“Ethan…” It came out as a whimper, zero protest, and half a plea.“Shh.” He moved closer,

Ethan never went out.His idea of a wild Friday was a different flavor of ramen and the blue glow of his laptop screen. So when he announced, offhand, that he was “meeting some guys from work for a drink,” I almost choked on my wine.“You?” I teased, tucked under a blanket on the couch. "You're going to be social? On purpose? Since when do you do… people?”His eyes flicked to mine, that usual unreadable look pinning me for a second before he shrugged. “Don’t wait up.”My jaw nearly dropped. Was Ethan actually going to a bar?“Have fun, grandpa,” I called after him. He didn’t answer, just shut the door behind him.The apartment felt too quiet without his grumpy presence filling it up. I turned up the volume on the TV, let a trashy rom-com play in the background, and poured myself another glass of wine. Then another one. By the third, I was warm and reckless, my mind started to wander to places it shouldn't.Ethan never laughed with me. Never flirted. Never even touched me, except for l

The night ended the way too many had lately—with me stumbling through the apartment door at two in the morning, half-drunk and exhausted, my heels dangling from my fingers. Ethan was already home, of course. He always was. My aloof, impossibly brooding roommate who seemed to operate on a completely different schedule than the rest of humanity.He looked up from the couch, where the faint blue glow of his laptop screen cast shadows across his sharp jawline, and gave me that unreadable nod of his. No lecture about coming home late. No questions about where I’d been or who I’d been with. Just… watching. The way he always did, with those dark eyes that seemed to see straight through every defense I’d carefully constructed.I muttered something incoherent about it being a long night and disappeared down the hallway toward the bedroom we shared.Yeah. Shared.A single oversized bed with nothing but a pathetic line of decorative pillows acting as the world’s flimsiest border between us. It w