Mag-log inWarning: This collection contains explicit sexual content, graphic language, and mature themes that may not be suitable for all readers. Some stories explore consensual BDSM, power play, taboo scenarios, and emotionally intense relationships. Reader discretion is strongly advised. All characters are fictional, consenting adults aged 18 and above. ~~~ Get ready to dive headfirst into temptation so forbidden it sets your skin on fire. Meet men who take what they want with raw, possessive hunger and women who crave every bit of it, unafraid to scream their desire. In this collection, every stolen touch, every secret glance, every whispered command pulls you deeper into a world where rules are shattered and pleasure rules. Expect domination, surrender, and the kind of heat that leaves you breathless and begging for more. If you crave erotic tension that lingers long after the last page, characters who are as flawed as they are irresistible, and forbidden encounters that push every limit—this collection will take you deeper into desire than you ever imagined. Get ready to lose yourself. Because once you enter, there’s no going back. You’ve been good long enough… it’s time to be filthy.
view more“You really should go home and be with your parents, Calista,” he says, his voice shaking.It completely lacks the authority he carries from the altar. Not nearly enough to rebuke the lust currently crawling through my nerves.I don't answer. I just look at him, letting the silence stretch until he blinks first.He clears his throat, glancing past the empty pews toward the massive doors at the back of the chapel.“Not here,” he whispers, his eyes dark with a mix of panic and desire. “Meet me in my office. Take the back hallway and wait two minutes before you follow me. Make sure nobody sees you.”He straightens his collar, turns, and walks away. I watch his black cassock sway as he disappears into the church shadows.My heart is pounding as I count the seconds.When the time is up, I fix my clothe and step into the hallway. I turn the corner toward the administrative wing, my chest tight with a sharp, almost painful thrill.Suddenly I hear footsteps ahead.I stop.Two elderly church v
~ Calista ~I’ve stopped trying to find a pretty name for it. It isn’t a crush, and infatuation feels too small and innocent.It’s an obsession. It’s a fever that hasn't broken since the moment he touched me.I sit in church and listen to his sermons, but the words mean nothing to me now. I don’t hear the gospel anymore. I hear the rough sound he made against my skin. I don’t see a holy man. I see a man who touched me and left me starving for more.He took my number. He made it clear he wanted to fuck me again. So why hasn’t the phone rung ever since?Maybe he’s scared. Or maybe he’s just shy."Have you noticed Father Romanus hasn't visited lately?" Mom’s voice breaks through the humid air of the garden.I stiffen, gripping the handle of my watering can until my knuckles turn white. We are out back tending to the vegetables. The smell of damp earth and ripening tomatoes is thick around us.Dad pauses, wiping sweat from his brow with the back of his hand. "He’s a busy man. The parish i
~ Father Romanus ~The shrill ring of the phone slices through the room like a blade.Calista grabs it, her face paling. “My dad.”I flinch.For a heartbeat, I’m not a man of God. I’m a fifty-five-year-old silver haired coward.“Answer it,” I hiss, my voice cracking.I scramble for my trousers.My fingers, stiff with age and the sudden chill of reality, fumble with the zipper.I look at the clerical collar discarded on the floor, the white tab that has defined my life for thirty years.Now it looks like a discarded skin.If her father walks in, I’ll be nothing but a disgraced old man in his living room with his daughter.Calista’s voice is steady as she talks to her father. “No, Dad. I’m just finishing up chores. Yes. Okay, bye.”Then she hangs up.She gives me a strange, knowing glance. Clearly surprised by how fast I’m trying to bolt.“He’s not coming,” she says, her voice dropping an octave. “Not for hours.”But I still listen for footsteps.The music spills through the house, yet
My legs feel unsteady and my thoughts worse as I move toward the door and ease it open. I retreat the moment he locks the door and steps forward. He doesn’t stop. Step by step, he closes the distance, and I keep backing away until the wall presses cold against my spine, trapping me there.I can only watch him now.His face is set, hardened by years spent listening to sins and deciding what to do with them. A Bible and chaplet rest in one hand.My breath breaks and I cover my face, a quiet sob slipping out before I can stop it.This can’t be happening. If he chooses to tell my parents about my dressing, they’d definitely kill me.His free hand find my wrist and he draws my hand down slowly, forcing me to look at him. His eyes are softer now, almost kind, and somehow that unsettles me more than anything else.I force out a breath, trying to steady myself but it doesn’t calm me.“Don’t be afraid, child,” he murmurs, his breath warm against my face. “I’m not going to hurt you.”I nod aut







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