Debby Khimberlyの小説

Dave's smile widened. He pulled her up from the chair, gentle but firm. The sound of her heels was the only sound heard in the office space. He led her to his office, and the door clicked shut. The lock turned. The room smelled of leather and scotch; the city lights twinkled through the windows. Dave turned to Clara; his hands moved slowly to her waist, tracing her pant lines with his fingers. Grip.He pulled her close, her scent filling his nostrils. His lips brushed her neck. Soft at first. Then a nip. “Ahh!” She gasped, her fingers gripping his shirt.He kissed her jaw slowly, and his tongue flicked out. Tasted her skin—chocolate and jasmine. His hands slid up her back, and he unzipped the skirt inch by inch. The fabrics whispered down her legs. Pooled at her feet. Clara stepped out. In just her blouse and panties—black lace. Dave stopped; he stepped back slowly and looked her over. His eyes lingered on her thighs, soft and plump under the lace."Beautiful," he murmured.Clar

Story 2.Clara had survived two years under Dave Hargrove’s thumb—endless overtime, frozen salary, casual insults disguised as “feedback,” all while he bought another yacht and another mistress. Today the breaking point finally arrived.Dave Hargrove, a hot billionaire and the CEO of Hargrove LTD. Everyone knows him to be a womanizer even though he doesn’t mix business with pleasure.Clara stood in front of her mirror that morning, intentionally late.“It’s my last day after all; why should I be in a rush?” She heaved, trying to sigh her worries away. She smoothed her black pencil skirt over her hips. It hugged her curves just right.“I'm going to dress as sexy as I want; no more T-shirts and pants. Fuck you, Dave!”She picked a white blouse that buttoned up to her neck but left the top one open; a hint of a lace bra peeked out.She danced around the room, spraying a light perfume on her wrists—jasmine and chocolate.It lingered in the air as she moved. Her dark hair fell in loose wav

Ellen’s povHis tongue dove in, expert, filthy, lapping my clit in tight circles, sucking my folds.“Damn! You taste so good.” He murmured as my juices coated his chin; I rode his face shamelessly, tits spilling free, nipples hard from the cool air, and his growls vibrating through me.”“Fuck!” I bit my lower lip as goosebumps and pleasures flooded me all over, the sensation making my head about to explode.When I couldn’t stand it, I slid down, hungrily took his cock in my mouth — thick, veined, leaking from his pre-cum. I sucked deep, gagging myself on purpose, my tongue swirling the head. I got teary as I tried to keep eye contact with him, humming so he felt it in his balls. His hands fisted my hair; his hips jerked, chasing my throat.I nodded rhythmically, making his cock dig deeper in my throat.“Ellen…stop..” I pulled off fast, my heart slamming against my ribs. “Cane? What’s wrong?”He clutched his chest, his breath coming in short, ragged bursts. Face flushed red, sweat

“You’re killing me, Ellen.” Then he walked away. Left me throbbing and ashamed.My stepfather looks young for a 50-year-old man; he’s got a cute face and nice abs. I’m not surprised that Mum fell hard for him; he’s hot.Until today.“Come here, naughty girl,” he growled finally, voice breaking on the words like he’d held them in too long.He grabbed my waist and yanked me onto his lap. No hesitation now. His hands roamed — rough, possessive — squeezing my ass through the skirt before shoving it up around my hips. I gasped, already soaked, grinding down on the thick ridge straining his slacks.He spun me, bent me over the desk. Papers scattered like confetti. His mouth crashed into mine, hungry, claiming, tasting like coffee and restraint finally snapping. His fingers hooked my panties, and he dragged them down just enough.“Fuck me hard, Daddy,” I begged. I deliberately came to his office just to feel his cock in my pussy again after what he did last night drove me crazy.He didn’t

Ellen’s POV“Hmmm. Yes, Cane, yes! Fuck me harder!!” Those were the words mom spewed out almost every night since she took a week's leave from work.We were just three in the apartment — and I’m the only child. “Oh, Cane,” another moan slipped into my ear.I can’t even sleep properly because these two decide to have sex every night, it’s not even helping me because my hormones feel like I’m the one beneath Cane, or right above him, riding him like my life depends on it. Yes, I know Cane is my stepfather, but I can tell he wants me too. From the stolen glance whenever I’m in my tank top and bum shorts to the smack of his lips when my towel once mistakenly slid down my body in the living room because I wanted to watch my favorite show. I can hear the buzzing sound of a vibrator, coming directly from Mom’s room.“Now is the time,” I whispered to myself.The sound of their skins slapping rhythmically had already turned me on, and I could feel my juice dripping quietly from my cunt.I

Brenda’s POV The mansion smelled of antiseptic, rust, and the faint copper tang of fresh blood. As far as Nella wasn’t here, it remains mine.Lucas sat shirtless on the edge of the metal table in the back room, jaw clenched, breathing through his teeth. The graze on his shoulder was shallow but ugly—red, raw, weeping slightly where the bullet had torn skin and muscle. Giovanni’s shot had been precise: painful enough to remind Lucas he was mortal, not deep enough to kill him.Yet.I dipped the cloth in saline again, dressing it for the second time that day. I pressed it gently to the wound. Lucas hissed.“Easy,” he growled.“I’m being easy,” I said, voice flat. “You’re lucky it didn’t go through the bone.”He laughed—short, bitter. “Lucky. Right. The bastard had me dead to rights and chose mercy.”“Not mercy.” I dabbed antibiotic ointment over the torn flesh. “Control. He wants you alive so he can watch you suffer later.”Lucas’s eyes narrowed. “Then we make sure he doesn’t get the

Nella’s POVThe dining room felt too big. Too quiet. Candle flames danced on the long mahogany table, throwing soft shadows across walls lined with dark oil paintings I hadn’t noticed before. The air smelled faintly of cedar and expensive wine — his scent, already familiar in the worst way.I had been given time to wash the blood and dirt from my skin, to change into the soft gray sweater and leggings left on the chaise. My hair was still damp from the shower. My wrists were red-ringed from the zip ties, but the pain felt distant compared to the hole in my chest where Tallia used to be.I sensed him, I forced myself not to look in his direction but my neck did the whole opposite.I looked like I’d been standing there waiting for him to join me.He filled the doorway.At least 6’7”, brawny, broad-shouldered, his black shirt stretched taut across his chest and arms like it had been tailored to showcase every hard line of muscle.His sleeves rolled to his elbows revealing forearms cord

Giovanni’s PovBeep.“Yes?” I answered calmly, swirling the whiskey in my glass.“Two female figures just slipped past the perimeter guards,” the voice on the other end said carefully.“I need facts.” My tone stayed even, almost bored.“Two females—one is Nella Moretti, the other is Tallia Wane.”I hung up without another word.I knew it.Pretty, dangerous little thing.She wouldn’t fold so easily to a piece of paper and a signature.I’d seen it in the photograph Vito showed me with the contract—those storm-gray eyes, restless, defiant, burning with her father’s fire.So I’d positioned my men around the Vitale mansion since the burial.Hidden cameras.A drone overhead.GPS trackers slipped under the cab’s chassis three streets away when it picked them up.I watched the laptop screen with cold interest as the ambush unfolded—Lucas DeFalco’s cars boxing them in on the highway.Something inside me snapped.Not hot anger, not the reckless kind I usually unleashed on enemies.This was cold

Nella’s povIt was Lucas.Papa’s old friend.Funny how he hadn’t shown his face at the funeral. For one stupid second, I thought maybe he was here to rescue me.“You want to run from fate, huh?” He sucked his teeth, the sound wet and mocking. “Allow me to help you.”He wasn’t on our side.He reeked of cigarettes and whiskey.I scanned for an exit, but we were boxed in — flashy cars gleaming under the headlights, engines idling like predators. Strong hands yanked us out of the cab. Rough. Efficient. Wrists zip-tied behind our backs, we were shoved into the lead SUV. The door slammed, and I lifted my head to look out, but the windows were black. Tinted. Impenetrable.The drive was silent except for Tallia’s ragged breathing beside me. I kept my head down, trying to count turns, memorize distances—anything useful, but fear blurred everything.We descended into an underground parking garage beneath what looked like a luxury car dealership. Rows of Ferraris, Lamborghinis, and Bentleys

Nella’s POVThe villa smelled of lilies and grief, the funeral flowers still wilting in every room, refusing to die even after Papa did.I sat on the edge of my bed, knees drawn up, staring at the picture of my father and me at the fun park.Someone once said the dead stay a few days with their loved ones even after being buried. “Papa, I have a few questions for you. I really hope you can hear me. But, how do I even get answers? I’ll go on anyway,”“What kind of debt would make you use your only child as collateral?”“Were you fighting a battle more powerful than you all these while, and nobody knew?”“Why did you even die now? Why did your heart have to fail you now?”I wailed uncontrollably, tears mixed with mucus and spit dripped down, soiling the pillowcase.The door opened.“Nella please!” Tallia hurriedly dropped the mug on the table, sat at the edge of the bed, and held my hands.“I…I should have requested an autopsy on him, right? What if he didn’t die of heart failure as th

Brenda’s pov“Such a poor delusional girl,” I scoffed.An evil smirk made its way to my lips as soon as I closed the door to Nella’s room.She must think I love her so much that I would actually care or feel any ounce of pity for her and the life her father chose for her.I heard a gunshot; it must have been Vito’s business partners paying obeisance to him.Most of the men were long gone by now. I found Lucas DeFalco. The man whose voice made me wet.“Hi. Darling,” He winked at me, dragging me by my apron, into the laundry. Bolting the door as soon as we stepped in.“Where have you been? I’ve been looking everywhere for you.” his husky voice made my body shudder in excitement.Tall, lean, silver threading through his dark hair now, but still handsome in that dangerous, lived-in way. Lucas was the same man who used to sit at Vito’s table, laughing over cigars and grappa. The same man who became Vito’s bitterest enemy the night his wife died in that “car accident” Vito swore he had not