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My Hot Biker Stepbrother 2
Date de publication:
2025-11-20 02:05:07
Dernier chapitre
Dirty Little Sinner: Taboo Chronicles. Ride a Cactus 3.
His grip iron, his hips never slowing. I was trapped beneath him, stretched around him, and I loved it-loved the helplessness, loved the violence of it, loved that it was him reducing me to this gasping, writhing thing.“Look at me,” he commanded. “Look at me while I fuck you, Thessaly. Look at me and know you lost.”I forced my eyes open, glaring up at him even as my body betrayed me, my hips rising to meet his thrusts, my inner muscles fluttering around his cock. “You-fuck-you haven’t made me cum yet. That’s not winning.”His smile was feral. “Yet.”He shifted his angle, grinding his pelvis against my clit with every thrust, and I cried out, my head falling back despite myself, my wrists straining against his grip. “You-god-you asshole-““Say it,” he panted, his own control fraying, sweat beading on his forehead, his chest heaving. “Say you’re going to cum on my cock. Say it like you hate me.”“I hate you,” I sobbed, the pressure building, coiling, ready to snap. “I hate you I hate
Dirty Little Sinner: Taboo Chronicles. Ride a Cactus 2.
Caelan pinned my wrists above my head with one hand, his body heavy between my thighs, and I arched up against him, hating how good it felt, hating that I wanted more.“Say it again,” he demanded, his free hand dragging my sweater up, exposing my stomach, my ribs, the black lace of my bra.“Fuck you.”He dipped his head, mouth hot against my collarbone, teeth grazing the tendon in my neck. “You first.”I struggled against his grip, not to get free but to feel the restraint, the delicious helplessness of being held down by someone who knew exactly how much I wanted to fight. He laughed against my skin, the sound dark and pleased, and then his mouth was on my breast through the lace, sucking hard, and I cried out, my hips bucking upward.“Sensitive,” he murmured, moving to the other side, leaving the first wet and aching. “Good to know.”“Don’t act like you’ve thought about this,” I panted, even though we both knew he had. We both had. Every argument, every cutting remark, every time ou
Dirty Little Sinner: Taboo Chronicles. Ride a Cactus 1.
The first time I met Caelan Voss, he was vomiting into a potted fern at my cousin’s wedding.I was sixteen. He was seventeen, the son of one of my uncle’s business partners, all sharp cheekbones and sharper arrogance. Even green around the gills, he’d looked me up and down like I was a disappointing appetizer and said, “You clean up decent for a Holt.”I’d dumped my sparkling cider on his shoes.That should have been the end of it. Two families who ran in overlapping circles, a summer wedding collision, nothing more. But fate has a sick sense of humour. My father-Theodore Holt of Holt & Associates Architecture-decided Caelan’s father, the equally insufferable Magnus Voss, would make an excellent mentor. Caelan spent the next two summers interning at my father’s firm. I spent those summers watching him weasel his way into my father’s good graces, watching him absorb praise that should have been mine, watching him smirk across conference tables while I fetched coffee I hadn’t offered to
Dirty Little Sinner: Taboo Chronicles. Dry Humping 2.
They cleaned up separately, embarrassed and giddy, and when they reconvened on the couch, they didn’t finish the movie. They just talked, their fingers intertwined, about how good it had felt, about how they wanted to do it again, about all the things they wanted to try.That night, Jerry went home and lay in bed, staring at the ceiling, his body still humming. He thought about Jane’s face when she’d cum, the way she’d looked at him like he was the only person in the world. He thought about the heat of her, the friction, the perfect pressure. And he thought about what might come next.They met again the next evening. Jane’s parents were still away, and the house felt like theirs alone. They ordered Thai food and ate it in her bedroom, sitting cross-legged on her bed, the air thick with anticipation.“I couldn’t stop thinking about it,” Jane admitted, pushing her noodles around with a fork. “About you. About how it felt.”“Me neither,” Jerry said. “I kept replaying it in my head.”“I w
Dirty Little Sinner: Taboo Chronicles. Dry Humping 1.
Jerry had lived next door to the empty house for sixteen years before anyone finally moved in. The Victorian on the corner of Maple and Third had sat dormant through his entire childhood, a boarded-up relic that neighbourhood kids swore was haunted. By the time he turned nineteen-a sophomore at the local community college, still living at home to save money, working weekends at his uncle’s hardware store-he’d stopped noticing the FOR SALE sign that had faded in the front yard.Then, one humid August afternoon, a U-Haul rattled down the street.Jerry was on his porch, nursing a lemonade and trying to make sense of an organic chemistry textbook, when the truck backed into the driveway. He watched without much interest as a middle-aged couple climbed out, followed by a girl about his age. She was wearing cut-off denim shorts and an oversized band t-shirt, her dark hair pulled back in a messy bun, a pair of wire-rimmed glasses sliding down her nose. She carried a cardboard box labelled BO
Dirty Little Sinner: Taboo Chronicles. The CEO’S Fuck boy.
Leander Crowe had spent the last eight months thinking about his boss’s hands more than was strictly professional. Not just the hands themselves, though they were hard to ignore. Long fingers, strong knuckles, always clean, always steady. It was what they stood for. Control. Certainty. The same hands that signed contracts worth millions and quietly dismantled competitors without ever raising their voice. The hands of Silas Varrick, CEO of Varrick Technologies, forty-two years old, six-foot-two, and built like someone who had never once been told no in his entire life.Leander was twenty-four, six months out of graduate school, still half-convinced someone would realize they’d hired him by mistake. He told himself the tight feeling in his chest whenever Silas walked into a room was just nerves. He told himself the way his gaze kept catching on the breadth of Silas’s shoulders, the way tailored fabric sat across his chest and the hard line of his thighs, was simple admiration. Respect f
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