LOGINJUANITA The air in his office had turned into something thick and suffocating, like the atmosphere right before a summer storm. I was still on my knees, my palms flat against the cold, thin carpet, looking up at him while my heart hammered an uneven rhythm against my ribs. He didn't say any more words. He just reached down, his long, elegant fingers catching his cock as he freed himself. I stopped breathing. He was...huge! Magnificent. There was no other word for it. He was long, thick, and perfectly shaped, with a sleekness that made it looked like it had been carved from the same porcelain as his skin. The cap was a deep, healthy pink, glistening with a tiny bead of anticipation at the very tip. It was the most intimidating thing I had ever seen, and yet, a traitorous heat started to pool in my lower belly. Julian Lee smirked down at me, his narrow eyes dark with a look of pure, unadulterated power. He wrapped his hand around the base of his length and gave it a slow,
JUANITA My stomach had been in knots all morning, my heart repeatedly slamming hard against my ribs, fast and uneven, as if it were trying to warn me to turn around. But I kept walking toward my professor’s office anyway. I hated coming to this part of college. It smelled like bleach and coffee, and right now, it felt like the walls were trying to close in on me and suffocate me. I clutched the strap of my bag so hard the leather was digging into my sweaty palm. I was drowning. That was literally the simplest way to put it. Between the double shifts at the diner, the mounting rent on my studio apartment that smelled like sorrows and cheap desperation, and the crushing weight of college, I was barely keeping my head above water. And then there was Professor Lee’s Economics 301. I’d missed three weeks of lectures and, most importantly, the mid-term test. "Please don't let him be in a dickish mood," I murmured to the empty air, though I knew it was a useless prayer. Professor
AVA The two weeks back in Los Angeles were a slow-motion car crash of both anticipation and doubt. Every time my phone beeped with a notification, my heart would try to punch its way out of my ribs, only for me to find a goddamn promotional email from my bank or a text from the manager at the club. Bradley was silent. No "how are you doing?" No "I can’t stop thinking about you." Nothing. He was playing me, and the worst part was that I knew it. He was a Marine; of course he knew exactly how to starve an enemy out until they were willing to surrender just for a drop of water. By day ten, I was pacing my small apartment, checking my calendar app every hour. By day thirteen, I was convinced the whole thing had been a fever dream brought on by the trauma of being back home. Then, Saturday came and exactly 6:00 PM on the dot my phone beeped. Unknown Number: Room 412, The Garland. I didn't even reply. I just dropped my phone and ran to the closet. I chose a red lace dress that
AVA He was sitting on the leather sofa, a phone pressed to his ear. He looked like the exact picture of a professional Marine, his posture straight, his expression impossibly neutral. But the second his eyes landed on me, he ended the call abruptly. He didn't even say goodbye to whoever was on the other end. He stood up, his presence filling the room. "You’re ready to go?" "Yeah," I said, gripping the handle of my suitcase so hard the blood rushed from my knuckle. "Just going to call a ride and head to the subway station." "Don't bother," he said, stepping toward me. "I'll drop you off." "No, Brad, really. You don't have to do that,” I said in a rush. “Linda probably wants you to help with something, and I've already booked the ride," I lied, fumbling with my phone. Bradley reached out, his large hand gently but firmly covering mine, pushing the phone down. He was close enough now that I could see the golden flecks in his hazel eyes. The air between us felt like a live wire. I
AVA The morning light was like an unwanted intruder. It filtered through the thin curtains of my childhood bedroom, sharp and unforgiving as though it was trying to chastise me. I tried to roll over, but my body immediately reminded me of everything that had happened in that dark, quiet gazebo last night. My inner thighs were sore with a dull, familiar ache that thrummed between my legs, and my back felt I’d sprained a muscle or two there. I was sore in all the right places, and every bit of that soreness was like a danger sign pointing toward my brother-in-law. I stayed under the covers for a long time, staring at the ceiling. I felt like a different person than the girl who had walked into this house forty-eight hours ago. I was no longer just the black sheep who everyone thought was living a dirty life as a stripper sister. I was now far worse. I had taken something that belonged to Linda—something she had fought to keep through chemo and radiation—and I had done it without a
AVA Just as I was about to speak, My Aunt Janice practically teleported into the garden, her voice shrill as she told us Linda was about to give a toast, and that we were needed inside. The spell had broken instantly. Bradley had vanished back into the light of the dining room, and I had followed a few minutes later, feeling like a criminal despite having done nothing but stand in the dark and heard him confess what might have been his deepest secrets to me. The rest of the dinner had been a fog of forced smiles and clinking glasses. I watched Linda soak up the attention, her hand constantly resting on Bradley’s arm, marking her territory without even trying. I barely ate. Every time Bradley’s hazel eyes drifted toward mine, I felt a spark that made my stomach flip. By midnight, the house had finally settled. The extended family had retreated to guest rooms and local hotels. I was in my childhood bedroom, the walls still covered in old posters that now felt like they bel
FINN The first time I saw Julia, I actually forgot how to breathe for a solid sixty seconds. I’m the Managing Director of one of the most cutthroat finance firms in the city. I'm what a number of people would call rigid, because apparently, I don’t get easily blown away by anything. I deal in co
ESME I swallowed nervously, eyes looking down at the huge monster, breath coming out in short, panicked bursts that felt like they were scraping my throat. My legs were still shaking from the way his tongue had just dismantled my entire nervous system, but seeing him now—actually seeing him—was
ESMEThe roar of the outboard motor was the only thing filling the silence between us, and frankly, I preferred the mechanical scream to the pictures my messed up mind was relentlessly trying to bring up. The salt air was whipping my hair into a chaotic bird’s nest, and the sun was beating down on
ESMEThe beach sand was shifting under my feet, fine and white like powdered sugar, but I felt like I was walking through wet cement as a result of the tension boiling within me.I marched over to where Logan was wrestling with a massive navy-blue beach umbrella, my temper flaring higher with every







