Dirty Collections (Short Filthy Novels)

The second I saw him standing in the kitchen doorway, my cunt clenched so hard I almost made a sound. I hated Tyler Reed before I ever had to live under the same roof as him. Tyler. 22. three years older than me--Same sharp jaw, same dark eyes that used to cut through me in the hallways at school, same lazy way of leaning like the whole world was beneath him. Well, Only now he was taller, broader through the shoulders, and living under the same roof because my mother had decided to marry his father. We’d been circling each other since sophomore year—same advanced classes, same parties, same mutual disgust. He was the golden boy who never had to try. And I was the one who tried too hard and still came second. Every time our eyes met after that, the air went different. So when Mom announced she was marrying his dad, Derek, I laughed until I realized she was serious. This is Real. Two weeks later I was standing in the driveway of a house that suddenly had my name on the mailb

I was late on purpose. The door to the lecture hall felt heavier than usual when I pushed it open. Half the seats were already filled with the usual mix of people scrolling on their phones or talking in low voices. I expected Dr. Langley’s tired face and the same flat voice that usually put half the room to sleep. That's his thing,his is a sleep magician. But instead I saw him. Derek Reed stood at the front of the room, back partially turned, writing on the whiteboard in clean, controlled strokes. Dark shirt. Sleeves rolled to the elbows. The same broad shoulders I saw every morning in the kitchen when he made coffee, and the same quiet way of occupying space like he didn’t need to raise his voice to be obeyed. My stomach twisted. Then the heat hit, low and immediate, spreading between my legs so fast it almost made me miss the next step. I knew exactly who he was. My mother’s new husband. Tyler’s father. The man who slept down the hall from me and never looked at me longer

He didn’t give me time to breathe. The door had barely clicked shut before he was on me. One hand locked around my throat, while the other ripping my shirt straight up and over my head. The fabric tore at the seams. He spun me hard, slammed me face-first into the wall, and kicked my feet apart so wide my inner thighs burned. Cool air hit my still-soaked pussy. I was dripping from earlier, swollen, aching, and unfinished. His fingers dragged through the wetness and he let out a low, ugly laugh against my ear. “Someone already had you,” he muttered. “I can smell it. You’re fucking soaked and it’s not for me.” He yanked my arms behind my back, then forced them up high between my shoulder blades until the joints screamed. Rough rope bit into my wrists tight, fast, with no mercy. He dragged me backward by the bindings, spun me, and threw me onto the bed. My back hit the mattress hard as he hauled me up by the rope until my head hung off the top edge of the bed, then pulled my ar

Derek’s voice hung in the air. Tyler’s cock was still buried to the hilt inside me, pulsing hard against my walls. I could feel every throb, every tiny twitch, while my cunt kept fluttering around him like it didn’t understand we were supposed to freeze. The ropes still held my arms stretched above my head. My ass was still raised. Everything was open and wet and exposed under Derek’s calm, dark gaze. For a long second nobody moved. Then Derek pushed off the wall and walked closer slowly. He stopped right beside the bed and looked down at where his son was buried inside me. “I said don’t stop.” Tyler’s hips jerked once, almost involuntarily, driving himself deeper. I moaned. Derek’s eyes flicked to my face, then back to the place where Tyler and I were joined. “Keep fucking her,” Derek said, voice low and commanding. “But slower. I want to watch.” Tyler hesitated—just a fraction of a second of resistance, jaw tight—but he obeyed. He started moving again, delivering lon