Masuk“Don’t stop me tonight, Andrew. I’ve been waiting too long for this.” The words hung between us, heavy and final. For a heartbeat, I thought he might push me away. His hands tightened on my waist, fingers digging into the soft flesh just under the hem of my tank top. His cock—fully hard now, straining against his jeans—throbbed hot and insistent against the thin cotton of my shorts, right where I needed him most. “Lola…” His voice was gravel-rough, torn between warning and want. “This is crazy. You’re my—” I cut him off by rolling my hips in a slow, deliberate circle, grinding my pussy down along the thick ridge of him. A soft, needy sound escaped my throat as the friction sparked pleasure through my clit. “I’m not your anything right now except the girl who’s soaked for you,” I whispered against his mouth. “Feel me.” His breath hitched. One hand slid up my back, under my tank top, palm hot against my bare skin. The other stayed on my hip, guiding me this time instead of just hol
"You sure you don't mind me kicking your ass again tonight?" Andrew asked with that easy grin of his as he shuffled the deck of cards between his long fingers. I dropped onto the couch right next to him, letting my bare thigh press against his. "Keep dreaming. Tonight I’m winning everything." It was just the two of us in the house. Mom had left for her business trip that morning, and the quiet felt different now. Heavier. Friday night stretched out in front of us with nothing but time. Andrew was twenty-nine, stupidly hot, and had always treated me like his favorite friend instead of his stepdaughter. At twenty-one, I was used to people assuming we were dating whenever he drove me to campus or we grabbed coffee together. I never corrected them. Telling my college friends the truth felt too shameful, too awkward. So I let them think whatever they wanted. Lately though, the lie had started feeling dangerous in a completely new way. Every time he laughed at something I said, or leaned
Rourke’s thumb pressed harder against my lower lip. The pressure was deliberate, testing. I could feel the heat of his palm against my jaw, the faint scrape of calluses. My free hand stayed where it was on the table, fingers splayed against the cold metal. The cuff on my left wrist kept me anchored, the chain short enough that I couldn’t lean back even if I wanted to.He didn’t ask again. He just waited, eyes locked on mine, until I opened my mouth the slightest bit. That was enough. His thumb slid past my lips, slow, and I tasted salt and the faint bitterness of the coffee he’d been drinking. I closed around it without thinking. The small, involuntary sound that escaped me made his eyes darken.“Good,” he murmured. “That’s a start.”He withdrew his thumb and straightened. For a second I thought he might step back, give me room to breathe. Instead he walked around the table again, the same slow circle as before, and stopped behind my chair. His hands settled on my shoulders. Heavy. Wa
The fluorescent lights in Interrogation Room 3 hummed like a cheap refrigerator on its last legs. I sat in the metal chair, wrists cuffed to the ring bolted into the table, and tried not to look at the two-way mirror. My reflection looked pale and small against the scuffed gray wall behind me. The air smelled of industrial cleaner and old coffee.Detective Rourke had left me alone for twenty-three minutes. I counted them on the wall clock above the door. Twenty-three minutes of silence broken only by the occasional distant slam of a filing cabinet and the low murmur of voices somewhere down the hallway. My shoulders ached from the way the cuffs forced my arms forward. The thin fabric of my shirt stuck to the small of my back with sweat.I wasn’t supposed to be here. That was the story I kept repeating in my head, the one I’d practiced on the ride over. The warehouse had been empty when I arrived. I was just looking for my brother. I didn’t know anything about the shipment. I didn’t kn
The private elevator hummed softly as it carried us down from the penthouse, but the sound did nothing to calm the storm raging inside me. My body still hummed from the morning's brutal claiming, my throat raw from the way Rafael had fucked my mouth until tears streamed down my face and his thick cum coated my tongue. I could still taste him, salty and masculine, lingering on my lips even after I had swallowed every drop like the obedient little whore he was turning me into. Between my thighs, my pussy throbbed with a deep, aching fullness, swollen and sensitive from his fingers and the memory of his enormous cock stretching me open again and again. I shifted uncomfortably on the plush bench inside the elevator, the new outfit Rafael had chosen for me clinging to every curve like a second skin designed for sin. The stylist and jeweler had arrived with racks of scandalously revealing garments, and Rafael had personally selected this one after making me model each piece for him while
Morning light filtered through the heavy velvet drapes of the penthouse suite, casting a soft golden glow across the crimson silk sheets that were now tangled around my naked body. I stirred slowly, every muscle aching in the most delicious and humiliating way. Between my thighs, a persistent soreness throbbed, a constant reminder of the thick, relentless cock that had claimed me so completely the night before. My pussy felt swollen and tender, still leaking traces of Rafael's cum mixed with my own arousal. The sticky evidence coated my inner thighs, and when I shifted, a fresh trickle escaped, making me clench involuntarily around nothing. I sat up with a gasp, the sheet slipping down to pool at my waist and exposing my full breasts to the cool air. My nipples tightened instantly, still sensitive from the way Rafael had sucked and bitten them until they were red and swollen. Bruises in the shape of fingerprints marked my hips where he had gripped me so possessively while pounding i







