LOGINThe on-call room door shut behind us with a soft snick that sounded louder than it should in the empty corridor.John flicked the lock, then turned to me, the dim red exit light catching the sharp line of his jaw.He didn’t say anything at first. He just reached into the locker beside the bunk and pulled out a small black bag.The zipper rasped open, and my breath caught.Inside lay things I’d only ever seen in private browser tabs: a sleek silicone vibrator, curved just right; a set of steel cuffs lined with soft leather; a bottle of lube that gleamed under the low light; a thin, flexible crop.He set them on the narrow mattress one by one, deliberate, like he was laying out surgical instruments.My pulse hammered so hard I could feel it between my legs.“Strip,” he said quietly.I peeled off the ruined scrub top and let it fall. My bra followed. Then the pants. I stood there in nothing but goosebumps and want.John stepped close, cupped my chin, tilted my face up.“You trust me?” he
The on-call room wasn’t enough for him.John pulled me down the empty corridor, his hand tight around my wrist, until we reached his private office at the end of the surgical wing.The door locked behind us with a soft, final click.Moonlight sliced through the half-open blinds, striping the big oak desk in silver bars.He didn’t turn on the light.He pushed me against the desk, my ass hitting the edge, papers sliding to the floor.His mouth crashed into mine rough, demanding, teeth scraping my lip.I moaned into him, fingers digging into his shoulders, pulling him closer.He tasted like coffee and danger.His hands were everywhere—ripping my scrub top open, buttons scattering, shoving my bra down under my breasts so they spilled free.He groaned at the sight, palms cupping them, thumbs brushing my nipples until they ached and tightened..Then he lifted me onto the desk, shoved my legs apart, and dropped to his knees.He didn’t tease.He dragged my scrub pants and panties down in one
The hospital was quiet for once.Most of the staff had gone home after the day shift, and the night crew was thin. I’d just finished my rounds when I saw him in the hallway outside the on-call rooms—Dr. John Harlan, the attending surgeon everyone whispered about. Tall, broad-shouldered, dark hair just messy enough to look like he’d been running his hands through it all day. His scrubs hugged his frame in a way that made my pulse jump every time he walked past the nurses’ station.He caught my eye and tilted his head toward the empty on-call room at the end of the corridor.I followed. Of course I did.The door clicked shut behind us.The room was small—just a bed, a locker, a dim lamp. The air smelled faintly of antiseptic and the coffee he’d been drinking.John didn’t waste time on words.He pushed me back against the door, one hand sliding up my scrub top, cupping my breast through my bra, thumb brushing my nipple until it hardened instantly. His mouth found my neck, teeth grazing t
Lucas rolled off me, breathing heavy, but his cock was already twitching back to life.I couldn’t wait.I pushed him onto his back on the altar, the silk sheets twisted beneath us, and crawled between his legs.His eyes darkened as I wrapped my fingers around his thick shaft, still slick from my pussy.I looked up at him, licked my lips, and took him into my mouth.Slow at first just the head, tongue swirling, tasting us mixed together.He groaned, low and guttural.Then his hands were in my hair fisting tight, controlling.He didn’t ask.He pushed my head down, forcing inch after inch into my throat until my nose pressed against him and I gagged.Tears sprang to my eyes, but I didn’t pull back.I took it.He held me there, buried deep, my throat fluttering around him.“Good girl,” he rasped. “Choke on Daddy’s cock.”Then he started moving my head—slow pulls back, then hard shoves down, fucking my mouth with my own hair as handles.I gagged, drooled, tears streaming, spit dripping of
Lucas finally rolled off me on the altar, chest heaving, cock still slick and half-hard against my thigh.Dawn light poured through the stained glass, turning the sanctuary into a kaleidoscope of color.I thought he was finished.He wasn’t.He sat up, grabbed my waist, and pulled me on top of him straddling his hips, my knees sinking into the ruined altar cloth.His cock, already hardening again, nudged my soaked entrance.“Ride me,” he ordered, voice rough. “Show me how bad you want this cock before you marry tomorrow.”I didn’t hesitate.I sank down onto him in one slick glide, taking every inch until he was buried deep.We both groaned..I started moving—slow at first, grinding my hips in circles, feeling him stretch me, fill me completely.His hands went straight to my tits.He cupped them, squeezed hard, thumbs flicking my nipples until they ached.Then he leaned forward and sucked one into his mouth—hard, wet suction that made me gasp.I rode him faster, bouncing now, ass slappi
Lucas stayed inside me, cock still buried deep in my ass, his chest slick against my back, one arm banded under my breasts to hold me up.The church was silent except for our ragged breathing and the soft drip of wax from the toppled candles.I thought he was done.I was wrong.He pulled out slowly, the drag making me whimper, cum leaking from both holes onto the sacred cloth.Then he flipped me onto my back again, hooked my legs over his shoulders, and slammed back into my pussy.The altar rocked harder.“Yes—fuck me!” I gasped, fingers clawing at his arms. “Don’t stop—never stop!”He grabbed my throat, squeezed just enough to make stars burst behind my eyes, and started pounding deeper, faster, hips snapping with raw power.The headboard no, the entire altar table creaked and groaned like it might collapse.His free hand cracked across my tits sharp, stinging slaps that made my nipples burn and my pussy clench around him.Each slap harder, the pain blooming into fire.I came hard,
My legs were trembling. My throat was raw. And my pussy—my poor, overstretched pussy—was still dripping everything he’d poured into me.But he wasn’t done.He grabbed my wrists and untied them slowly, almost gently. My arms dropped, limp from how hard he’d used me.“You okay?” he asked, voice lower
I woke up sore.Between my thighs, everywhere. Every part of me ached in the most delicious way. The sheets smelled like him — woodsy cologne and sweat and sex. My thighs were sticky. My lips swollen. My pussy used.And I loved it.But reality snapped back.Zoey.She was just a room down the hall.
He looked down at me a wet, ruined mess on my knees and something shifted in his eyes.Something darker.Something hungrier.“Get up,” he ordered, voice thick, low, wrecked.I stood, shaky and soaked, my legs barely steady. He grabbed my wrist, yanked me toward the back of the locker room, right in
I couldn’t feel my legs.He was still buried inside me, cock pulsing deep in my soaked pussy, and I was leaning against the wall, gasping like I’d just survived a war.But I hadn’t.He wasn’t done.“Stay just like that,” he said, voice low and dangerous, his breath brushing the back of my neck.“I







