FAZER LOGINChapter 2Zara’s POVI woke up deliciously sore, my thighs bruised from gripping McLane’s hips, pussy swollen and still tingling with the memory of him filling me three times last night. Every shift of my hips sent a sweet ache through me, a filthy reminder that I wasn’t a virgin anymore. I wasn’t innocent. I was ruined in the best possible way, and I was already addicted.I needed more before I left for Vegas in four days.Morning light filtered through my curtains when McLane woke me the way I’d dreamed about for years: his broad shoulders parting my thighs, hot mouth sealing over my clit. He licked me slow and reverent at first, long, dragging strokes through my folds, tasting the remnants of his own cum from the night before. Then he sucked hard, two thick fingers sliding inside me, curling against that spot that made my back bow off the mattress. I came with a muffled cry into my pillow, thighs clamping around his head, gushing against his tongue.He didn’t let me recover.He fli
Chapter 1 McLane’s POVThe living room was hushed except for the soft scratch of Zara’s pen and the occasional rustle of paper. She sat cross-legged on the couch in tiny cotton sleep shorts that rode high on her thighs and a thin white tank top so worn it was nearly transparent. Her dark hair spilled over one shoulder, brushing the swell of her breast as she chewed the end of the pen, eyes focused on her relocation checklist. Twenty-two, college diploma still fresh in its frame upstairs, five days until she boarded a plane to Vegas and a six-figure tech job that would rewrite her entire life.I sat in the armchair across from her, pretending to read the list while my gaze kept drifting to the way her nipples pebbled against the fabric, dark shadows under white cotton. I cleared my throat. “Passport, birth certificate, lease signed, car shipped, furniture ordered… looks solid, kiddo.” I handed the paper back. “You’re really all set.”Zara bit her lower lip, cheeks blooming pink. “The
Chapter 2Julian’s POVThe entire next day I avoided her like she was radioactive.I slipped out before dawn, pounding ten punishing miles through the neighborhood until my lungs burned and sweat stung my eyes. Then the gym — deadlifts until my grip failed, pull-ups until my shoulders screamed. By noon I was in the garage with the door down, pretending to tune a lawnmower that hadn’t needed work in years. Anything to keep my hands busy and my mind off the images that kept replaying on loop: Eve’s back arched off the mattress like a bowstring, thighs trembling around my ears, her cunt clenching and gushing while she screamed my name and I pumped every drop deep into my father’s widow.My father’s widow.The phrase sat in my gut like battery acid, corroding everything.By dusk I was back in my room, lights off, sprawled on the bed in nothing but boxers, trying to jerk off to porn on my phone — anything faceless, anything safe. My cock stayed half-hard, uninterested, because every time I
Chapter 1 Eve’s POVThe house was too quiet after the funeral, the kind of silence that presses against your eardrums and makes every heartbeat sound obscene.I sat on the edge of the king-sized bed in the dark, still wearing the black crepe dress that clung to my skin like damp sin. It smelled of funeral lilies, cheap incense, and the sour regret that had settled permanently in my throat. Michael’s side of the mattress stayed cold, the indentation of his head still visible on the pillow like a ghost refusing to leave. I stared at it until my eyes burned.If only I hadn’t been drunk that day.The fight replayed in vicious loops. Three glasses of pinot at lunch, two more when he came home early smelling faintly of her perfume. I’d screamed about the late nights, the deleted messages, the way he’d started locking his phone. He’d shouted back that I was paranoid, controlling, drunk. Then he’d stormed out into the rain-slick canyon road. Twenty minutes later two uniformed officers stood
Chapter 2: They ended up at Alison’s hotel room which was a neutral ground, and safer than lingering in the wreckage of the reception hall. The drive was quiet, hands clasped over the center console, neither speaking much. When they arrived, they showered separately; the temptation of shared water felt too dangerous, too soon after the frenzy they’d unleashed.Clean, wrapped in hotel robes, they sat on opposite ends of the king bed. Reese tucked her knees up, dark hair still damp. Alison leaned against the headboard, legs stretched out.“That was insane,” Reese said finally.“Yep.”“We had sex on a buffet table at our abusive ex’s funeral.”“We did.”“While talking about him.”“Technically insulting him.” Alison met her eyes. “Do you regret it?”Reese considered, then shook her head. “No. It felt… necessary. Like exorcism.”“That’s one word for it.”Silence settled again, softer this time. Then Reese asked the question they’d both been circling: “What was real? What we had in college
Chapter 1: The funeral was small, and tasteful, the kind of polished lie Lewis Hall’s family would stage. Alison Graves stood at the back of the chapel, black coat buttoned to her throat, watching mourners pass the closed casket. Cold satisfaction settled in her chest. He was finally gone.She’d driven eight hours from Boston uninvited. She needed to see the box lowered, needed proof the monster couldn’t crawl back.Then she saw her.Across the aisle, black sheath dress, dark hair cropped short, stood Reese Dawson. Their eyes locked. Reese’s widened in shock, then narrowed — anger, grief, recognition. She looked away first, jaw tight.The eulogy erased everything: Lewis the devoted son, brilliant consultant, taken too soon by a heart attack. No mention of rage fits, gaslighting, the way he’d isolated both women from everyone during the years he claimed them separately.Alison’s nails bit into her palms. She’d come to confirm death; hearing him sainted made her want to scream every tr
◆◆◆ Chapter 9 ◆◆◆~ Kris Hunter ~I prepared like it was the most important date of my life. Because it was.Last night I barely slept. Tiana had crashed on my couch after our marathon gossip session, her sprawled under a throw blanket, me curled in bed staring at the ceiling, replaying every secon
◆◆◆ Chapter 11 ◆◆◆~ Kris Hunter ~What the heck is going on? Did Niklaus arrange for a threesome? With an older woman? The thought slammed into me like a fist—equal parts horrifying and… mesmerizing. My pulse roared in my ears. My thighs clenched involuntarily, the soaked lace thong shifting a
◆◆◆ Chapter 7 ◆◆◆ ~ Kris Hunter ~The sleek black Aston Martin purred to a stop outside my apartment building, engine idling low like it was too elegant for this cracked sidewalk and flickering streetlamp. The neighbourhood looked even shabbier under the headlights — peeling paint on the concrete
◆◆◆ Chapter 10 ◆◆◆~ Kris Hunter ~The Rolls-Royce glided through wrought-iron gates that opened without a sound, revealing a driveway lined with palm trees and low landscape lights that made the entire property look like it belonged in a dream or a very expensive nightmare. The mansion rose ahead







