MasukChapter 3 Nick’s POVThat threesome was the hottest night of my life.Watching Zara take both of us, her stepfather and her stepbrother, her lithe body trembling and glistening between us, moaning like she’d been born to be split open on family cock… I’d never come so hard. The sight of her lips stretched around McLane’s shaft while I pounded her dripping pussy from behind, the way her eyes rolled back every time we synced our thrusts, the obscene wet sounds filling the room…it burned itself into my brain. I replayed it on loop all morning at the gym, cock half-hard in my shorts, counting reps just to keep from thinking too hard about how badly I wanted more.By early afternoon I couldn’t wait any longer.I came home early from the gym, sweat-soaked tank clinging to my chest, gym bag hitting the floor the second I saw Zara alone in the living room. She was sprawled on the couch in nothing but one of my old football jerseys, too big, slipping off one shoulder, hem barely covering the
Chapter 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 ◆◆◆~ Anne McGiver ~Being a celebrity actress sucked about as much as being doused in perfume and left in a room with a swarm of bees. And those bees? They were men.I had them in every caliber imaginable — movie producers with their slimy promises of “private meetings,” co-stars w
◆◆◆ Chapter 2 ◆◆◆ The moment the elderly couple’s feet touched the pavement and the doors hissed shut, the atmosphere inside the bus changed. Thicker. Hungrier. The engine’s growl felt louder now, more conspiratorial, drowning out everything except the wet sounds their bodies were already making.
◆◆◆ Chapter 2 ◆◆◆~ Anne McGiver ~The rest of the class was torture.I was barely registering a single word about cellular respiration or ATP. It was torture because every time I tried to catch Mr. Romans’s eye, he deliberately looked anywhere else. At his slides. At the students raising hands. At
◆◆◆ Chapter 3 ◆◆◆~ Anne McGiver ~I screamed the moment my bedroom door closed behind me.It was not a delicate, feminine sound. It was raw and frustrated and came from somewhere deep in my chest. I threw my bag across the room, watching with grim satisfaction as it hit the wall and my books spill







