Novels by Dripples

For weeks, she’d felt it.That prickle on the back of her neck when she undressed at night. The certainty that eyes were on her, even though the building across the street looked dark and empty.Ava lived on the twelfth floor of a sleek glass tower in the city—floor-to-ceiling windows, no curtains because she liked the view of the skyline twinkling like fallen stars. Privacy was an illusion she’d chosen to ignore.Until she decided to play with it.Tonight she wore nothing but a black lace teddy that clung like a second skin—thin straps, deep plunge between her breasts, high-cut legs that framed her ass perfectly. She left the bedroom light on low, just the bedside lamp casting warm gold across the sheets.She stood at the window, back to the glass, pretending to scroll on her phone.Then she turned slowly, facing the darkness outside.Her eyes scanned the opposite building—row after row of blank windows.One caught her.A faint glow, barely there.A silhouette.He was there.Ava’s pu

Office hours: Wednesday, 2–4 p.m.The sign on his door read as much, but Sophia was there at 1:55, pulse racing.She knocked once.“Come in.”Professor Grant sat behind his desk, sleeves rolled to the elbows, tie loosened, reading glasses on. A stack of ungraded midterms waited beside him. The door to the outer hallway was closed; the blinds drawn just enough to dim the afternoon light.He didn’t look up from his papers.“On your knees, pet. Under the desk.”Sophia’s breath caught. She slipped inside, locked the door behind her, and dropped her bag by the chair. The space under his large oak desk was generous—plenty of room for her to kneel between his spread legs.She crawled in slowly, skirt riding up her thighs, heart hammering at the thrill of it. Anyone could knock. A colleague. A student with a legitimate question.He pushed his chair back just enough for her to settle between his feet, then rolled forward again, trapping her in warm, dim confinement. The scent of him—cologne, p

Monday came too slowly and too quickly at once.Sophia sat in the front row this time—deliberately. Short gray skirt, white button-down tied at the waist, no bra. She’d spent the weekend exactly as he’d ordered: no touching herself, feeling his dried come flake away only in the shower this morning. The ache between her legs had been constant, a delicious reminder.Professor Grant didn’t look at her during the lecture. Not once.His voice was steady, commanding the room as always, dissecting symbolism in Caravaggio with that deep, precise tone that made her thighs clench.But she felt his awareness like a physical touch.When the hour ended and students filed out, she stayed seated, notebook open, pen tapping slowly against her lip.The door closed behind the last straggler.Only then did his eyes meet hers.“Miss Reyes. My office. Five minutes.”He left first, briefcase in hand, not looking back.Sophia waited the full five—heart pounding—before following.The office door was ajar. Sh

The desk creaked under the force of his thrusts.Professor Grant had one hand braced beside her head, the other gripping her hip hard enough to leave marks. Each drive of his cock was deep, deliberate, punishing—like he was teaching her a lesson she’d never forget.Sophia’s cheek pressed against scattered papers—graded essays, a leather-bound notebook—her moans muffled against the wood. Her fingers clawed for something to hold onto, finally curling around the edge of the desk.He slowed suddenly, buried to the hilt, grinding against her in slow circles that made her clit throb.“Quiet,” he warned, voice rough. “Anyone could walk past that door.”The thought sent a fresh wave of heat through her. The hallway outside was never truly empty—janitors, late students, other faculty.He pulled out almost all the way, then slammed back in, making her gasp loudly despite the warning.A low chuckle rumbled behind her.“Can’t follow instructions, can you?”His hand left her hip. She heard the whi

The lecture hall emptied slowly, students shuffling papers, zipping backpacks, murmuring about weekend plans. Sophia lingered at her desk in the third row, pretending to scribble notes long after everyone else had gone.She knew he’d notice.He always noticed.Professor Elias Grant stood at the podium, closing his laptop with deliberate care. Mid-forties, tall, broad-shouldered, with salt-and-pepper hair that made him look distinguished rather than old. His tailored charcoal suits fit like they were made for sin, and his voice—deep, precise, commanding—had been the soundtrack to her filthiest fantasies all semester.Today she’d worn the skirt he liked: short, pleated, black. Paired with thigh-high stockings and a blouse one button too low. She’d caught him glancing at her legs more than once during his lecture on Renaissance symbolism.The door clicked shut behind the last student.The room fell silent except for the faint hum of the projector cooling down.Sophia stood, gathering her

The break was brief—just long enough for cool champagne to be pressed to Lila’s lips and for gentle fingers to wipe the sweat from her brow. Victor and Jade moved around her like they’d choreographed this a hundred times, murmuring praise that made her float even as her body still trembled from the last orgasm.“Look at her,” Jade said softly, tracing a fingertip through the mess Victor had left across Lila’s back. “Absolutely perfect.”Victor returned from the toy table with a sleek black plug—medium sized, tapered, with a gleaming emerald jewel at the base that matched Jade’s gown. He held it up so Lila could see.“We’re going to fill you everywhere tonight, darling,” he said. “Every hole claimed.”Lila’s breath stuttered. She was still on her stomach, wrists loosely cuffed to the headboard, ass slightly raised on a pillow they’d slid beneath her hips. The position left her completely open, vulnerable, and so turned on she could feel fresh slickness coating her inner thighs.Jade co