Dripping Wet (Erotica short story compilation)

“Mmh,” I bite back a moan as Bruce, my bodyguard, grazes his finger over my bikini crotch. I’m lying on my back on one of the pool beds with the afternoon sun shining on my skin. Bruce is lying beside me on his side with his upper body propped on his elbow, while the other one rests between my thighs. I just got out of the pool, and I was sunbathing when Bruce walked over and joined me. And I love his company. I love it even more when he touches me like this.His hand slides up my inner thighs and then back down slowly until he palms my pussy over the fabric. I widen my legs a bit to allow him more access to the goodies and turn my head to face him. He’s handsome. Very handsome. And I love looking at his face when he does things to me. It makes the experience so much better.You might be wondering why a girl like me would be letting her bodyguard touch me like this. For many, this is considered inappropriate and it might result in my bodyguard getting fired and me being put in timeout

At last, he couldn’t take it anymore. He pulled down his black pants and bent me over on the couch, finally going for what we’ve been longing for. I gasped when his cock slid into me, and my starving cunt welcomed him as if my life depended on it. It was almost like we were made for each other because we fit together perfectly.When he moved, my moans became uncontrollable because he was hitting all the right places. I knew it right there and then that this wasn’t going to be a one-time thing. That cock was too good to let go. And right now, I was about to have a taste of it again.While my dad thinks he's won, the man he specifically hired to babysit me slides his fingers under my bikini bottom, and his mouth finds my nipple. His fingers are cool against my heated skin, and that adds to the refreshing sensation. He laps his tongue around my nipples, making it as sloppy as I like it, and then tugs at it with his teeth as his fingers press against my bundle of sensitive nerves. He hol

They say spies don’t break; they adapt, vanish, and improvise. Whoever said that never got trapped behind enemy lines with half a syndicate at their back and no exit plan.My name’s Sofia Kane. Special Forces, seconded to Intelligence Command two years ago. Codename: Wraith. I was supposed to be invisible.I’ve been undercover in Moscow for three months, watching, listening, and pretending to be someone forgettable. I’d mapped every connection the Petrov Syndicate had to military smuggling, traced shipments, photographed ledgers, and sent enough intel home to cripple their network.Until last night. One mistake, one wrong face in the mirror, and someone recognized me. Now my safe house is gone, my contact’s dead, and the mission’s blown. Extraction was supposed to happen at 0400. It’s past that now, and no one’s coming.So, I’m running through the woods, the cold, and the ghosts of every failed op I’ve ever survived. I’m running because the alternative is a bullet in the snow and my n

My fantasy is cut short when a leather whip makes contact with my skin, and my body jerks forward from the unexpected pain. Dang! I guess they are really serious about doing things the hard way. But this pain is nothing to me. I know I’ve got this.“Allow me to introduce myself,” the walking Thirst Trap says, folding the whip in half and running it on my thigh in a way that makes me swallow involuntarily. “We are the Petrov brothers, but from now on, you address us as sir. Understood?”“Yes.”“Yes, what?” Another whip lands across my back.“Yes, sir,” I shout, curling my toes as pain spreads across my body. He hit me good. But as soon as the pain subsides, a wave of heat washes over me in a way that has never happened before.“Good girl,” he praises, running his fingers along my neck and squeeing my throat lightly. Heat rushes down between my legs, and my breath hitches.

The world quietens afterward with only the sound of my breathing filling the cabin, uneven at first, then slows and deepens. The air still carries warmth, though I know how cold it is beyond these walls. My pulse hasn’t settled yet. I can still feel it in my throat, wrist, and core.Every muscle feels heavy, but not in a way that hurts. It’s a quiet ache that follows release where tension has nowhere left to go. My thoughts blur. I want to think, to remember why I shouldn’t have let this happen, but my body betrays me with its calm. The worst part is that I still want more. I want a cock in me, both, if they let me.The scent of sandalwood still lingers. Smoke curls lazily above the table, and in it, I feel suspended, caught between exhaustion and a peace I don’t trust. For once, I don’t reach for her defenses. I just breathe, eyes half-closed, knowing this calm won’t last but allowing it to exist for now. At the very least, I know t