LOGINDr Vale turned to Keon.
“On your knees. Face your wife’s pussy.”
Keon dropped fast.
His mouth hovered inches from her cunt—wet, pulsing, swollen with denial. Her juices dripped down her inner thighs.
“You want to taste?” Dr. Vale asked.
“Yes,” he whispered.
“Tell her.”
Keon looked up, shame in his eyes. “I want to taste your pussy, baby. I want to feel you cum on my tongue. Please let me try again.”
Sariah’s voice was breathless. “Then do it right.”
He buried his face between her thighs.
This time, he licked like he had something to prove—long, rough strokes, tongue deep, nose buried in her clit.
Sariah screamed.
Dr. Vale stood behind him, watching like a god.
“Good. Don’t stop until she soaks your fucking chin.”
Keon didn’t stop. Not once. His tongue circled her clit, faster, harder, two fingers sliding inside to match the rhythm she loved.
Sariah bucked against the restraints.
“I’m gonna cum—fuck—I’m”
And then she broke.
Her scream shattered the silence.
Her pussy gushed, soaking Keon’s face, her thighs shaking, breath gone.
Dr. Vale smiled.
“Now that… was a fucking orgasm.”
Keon fell back, soaked, panting.
Sariah hung from the straps, trembling, cum dripping down her legs.
Dr. Vale walked between them.
“Next session,” she said, “you switch. He gets tied down. And you ride until he cries.”
Sariah looked up, wrecked and smiling.
“Please,” she whispered. “Don’t make me wait long.”
************************************************************************
The morning light bled through the blinds like a secret trying to spill.
Sariah stood by the kitchen island, robe loose, nipples still sore from last night. She hadn’t slept—not really. Her body ached in all the right places. Her pussy still throbbed, sensitive, twitching every time she shifted. She could feel her husband’s cum dried along her thighs, even after the shower.
But it wasn’t the orgasm that haunted her.
It was the look in his eyes. The shame. The hunger.
And that note.
“If you can’t make her cum… I will.”
She didn’t write it. Didn’t even know who did. But the way Keon looked at her when he read it? Like he might fuck her or leave her forever.
She poured herself coffee, hands trembling.
Then came his voice—low, warm, but edged in something tight.
“What did that message mean, Sariah?”
She turned.
Keon stood in the doorway in a fitted tee and gray sweats that barely contained the weight of his morning cock. Hair messy. Eyes still swollen from sleep.
He stepped closer.
“That card,” he said, voice tight. “The one from the sex club. The note inside. ‘If you can’t make her cum… I will.’”
She swallowed. “I told you—I don’t know. Someone handed it to me.”
“Who?”
She shook her head. “A woman at the gym. We’d spoken once. I vented. She said they help couples. I thought it was like… therapy.”
Keon stared at her. His jaw flexed. His voice dropped.
“She knew I was failing. She knew I couldn’t fuck you right. And she wanted to take you from me.”
Sariah stepped closer, but not too close.
“I didn’t tell her anything. I didn’t know what that note said until you opened it.”
Keon’s chest rose. Then fell.
Then he stepped forward—until she was backed against the fridge.
His voice was thick. Possessive. Dangerous. Deep.
“She’s not going to take you, Sariah. No one is.”
His palm landed against the fridge beside her head.
“I’m going to win you back. With this cock. With this mouth. With everything you forgot I had.”
Her breath caught.
“I didn’t forget,” she whispered. “You just stopped showing it.”
His hand slid down her side.
“I’m showing it now.”
And then, without warning, she turned to reach for the milk carton on the shelf.
He opened the fridge at the same time. His arm bumped hers. Her elbow knocked the bottle.
It exploded.
White, cold milk poured down her chest, soaking her robe, clinging to her lace bra, dripping over her cleavage.
“Shit,” she gasped, stepping back.
Milk ran between her breasts. The robe was plastered to her tits. Her nipples stood hard, dark points begging to be sucked.
Keon just stood there, staring.
“Are you okay?” she asked.
He didn’t answer.
He stepped forward and yanked the robe wide open.
“Keon—” she gasped.
His mouth was already on her tit.
His lips wrapped around her nipple, sucking hard, tongue swirling over the sensitive tip until she cried out and slapped a hand over her mouth.
“Fuck—baby—the kids—upstairs”
“I don’t give a fuck,” he growled into her chest.
He sucked harder, pulling the entire curve of her milk-soaked breast into his mouth like he was starving. His hand slipped down between her thighs, dragging up the hem of her robe.
She was bare underneath.
His fingers found her slit—wet, creamy, open.
“You’re not even wearing panties,” he muttered. “You wanted this.”
“I didn’t—fuck—I was just”
“Don’t lie. You’re soaking.”
He rubbed her clit fast, rough, until her knees buckled and she had to brace herself against the dining table.
She turned, hips pressing into the edge, tits out, robe open, one leg kicked back.
“Please,” she whispered. “Make me cum before they come downstairs.”
He dropped to his knees and spread her ass apart, tongue dragging through the mess between her thighs.
“Suck this pussy,” she begged. “Make it sloppy.”
He dove in.
His tongue slid over her creamy folds, his face buried deep in the heat of her dripping cunt. He groaned into her like he wanted to drown. His tongue circled her clit, flicking hard, sucking just enough to make her grind against his face.
“You taste like sin,” he said. “Sweet and filthy.”
Her hands gripped the table edge. Her body shook.
“I’m close—don’t stop—please, don’t”
His fingers slid inside her, fast and deep, curling up to hit her spot with ruthless precision. The sloppy sound of her pussy sucking his fingers filled the kitchen.
Muffled moans. Heavy breath. Wet, wet, wet.
The stairs creaked upstairs.
Sariah’s eyes widened. “Oh my God—stop—they’ll hear”
“Let them,” Keon growled.
He stood, pushed her chest down flat against the table, and shoved his thick cock between her legs—bare. No time for protection. Just skin and need.
He slid inside.
One hard stroke.
She cried out—loud, gasping—her pussy clenching around him instantly.
“Oh, fuck—yes!”
He slammed into her again. And again.
Her tits slapped against the table. Milk still coated her skin. His hands dug into her hips.
“Is this what you needed?” he growled. “A hard fuck? A man to ruin your pussy before breakfast?”
“Yes,” she moaned. “Fuck me—harder—don’t stop”
The table creaked.
His cock drilled into her wetness, pounding faster, deeper, her slick soaking his balls with every thrust. Her body writhed, tits bouncing, mouth full of muffled cries.
“Say it,” he demanded. “Whose pussy is this?”
“Yours,” she gasped. “It’s yours—it’s all yours”
“You’re not leaving me.”
“I don’t want to.”
“Then cum on this dick.”
He reached around and rubbed her clit, fingers fast, cock deep.
She shattered.
Her orgasm slammed into her like a tidal wave—her body shook, her pussy clenched hard around him, milking him, creaming on his cock.
Keon grunted behind her, thrust twice more
And then exploded inside her with a hot, thick pulse of cum.
They collapsed together.
Panting.
Shaking.
Sticky.
Ruined.
The stairs creaked again.
They scrambled—robe tied, pants zipped, table wiped just enough.
Their kids never came down.
But the table would remember.
They sat side by side now, quiet, breathing slowly as the kitchen returned to stillness.
Sariah’s legs were trembling. Keon’s cock still twitched in his pants. The table was damp with milk and slick. Her robe clung to her skin like a secret only he could read.
No words. Just afterglow and adrenaline.
Then her phone buzzed.
She reached for it slowly, fingers still sticky from gripping the table.
A text. From a number labeled Dr. Vale.
Session Confirmed.
Payment due by 6 p.m.
A guest will be joining you tomorrow night.
Instructions: No touching each other till then. No orgasm without permission. Hands. Off
Sariah’s breath caught in her throat.
Keon leaned over and read the message too.
She turned to him.
Eyes wide. Lips parted. Pussy already pulsing again.
“What does she mean… a guest?”
Keon didn’t answer.
But his cock started to harden
Bonnie stood in the middle of her loft at 11:47 p.m., heart slamming against her ribs like it wanted out. The glow between her legs was so bright now it cast faint blue shadows on the hardwood floor. She stared at the massive suction-cup dildo she’d just bought from that sketchy online shop that promised “discreet packaging” but delivered in a box screaming SEX TOY ALERT. It was huge—thick, veiny, ridiculous. She’d paid extra for overnight shipping because the voices wouldn’t shut up.Buy it, they’d said all afternoon. Big. Strong suction. We want to feel you stretch.She’d argued. “No way. I’m not turning into some porn cliché.”You already are, they’d laughed. And you love it. Buy it now or we stop the pleasure until you do.So here she was, naked, sweating, staring at the monster toy stuck to the coffee table like it owned the place.“Fine,” she said out loud, voice cracking. “You win. But if this thing rips me in half, I’m blaming you freaks.”We won’t let it hurt, the Honeyswarm
Bonnie burst through the clinic doors like she was on fire. “I need to see someone right now,” she told the receptionist, voice shaking. “It’s an emergency. There’s something… inside me.”The receptionist—young, bored, chewing gum—barely looked up. “Name? Insurance?”“Bonnie Finley. No insurance. Cash. Please, just get me in.”Ten minutes later she was in the exam room, legs in stirrups again, heart slamming so hard she could feel it in her throat. Dr. Patel walked in with a nurse trailing him. Same guy from earlier? No—different name tag. Dr. Ramirez this time. Older, tired eyes, clipboard in hand.“Okay, Ms. Finley,” he said, scanning the intake form. “You’re saying you believe you’ve been… infected by a deep-sea parasite? From sexual contact? And it’s making you glow and hear voices?”Bonnie nodded fast. “Yes. Exactly. Look between my legs—there’s this blue-green light under the skin. It pulses. And it talks to me. Plural. Like a group. It made me black out last night from coming t
Bonnie slammed the apartment door and kicked off her sneakers. “Holy shit, what a night,” she muttered, already peeling her shirt over her head. The loft smelled like coffee and last week’s takeout, but right now all she could smell was him—salt, sweat, and that thick, dirty scent of sex still clinging to her skin.She dropped her jeans in the hallway, panties next. Naked. Skin still buzzing. That little warm spark down low hadn’t quit; it sat there like a tiny coal, glowing quietly, waiting.Shower. Now.Hot water hit her like a slap. She groaned loud enough for the neighbors to hear. “Fuck yes.”Steam rolled up fast. She tipped her head back, let it pound her face, her tits, her stomach. One hand slid down straight away—no teasing, no bullshit. Fingers found her clit, already puffy and slick.“Still so fucking sensitive,” she laughed under her breath. “Maxton, you animal.”She started slow circles. Knees wobbled a little. Other hand grabbed her breast, squeezed hard, thumb flicking
Bonnie Finley slid the last crumpled hundred across the dock to the dude in the hoodie. He pocketed it without blinking and jerked a thumb at the sub.“Get in. Don’t barf. They hate cleaning that shit up at depth.”She grinned, heart already racing. “Not my first rodeo, dude.”The Abyssal looked like a rich man’s toy—sleek, white, mean. Inside it smelled like cold steel, expensive perfume, and pure trouble. Red lights, low bass thumping through the hull, maybe twenty people already half-drunk and horny. Tech guys in open shirts, women in tiny dresses that cost more than her car. Bonnie felt the buzz the second she stepped in. This was exactly the kind of stupid she needed for the story.She grabbed a gin at the bar. The silver-haired bartender winked. “First time? You look like you’re hunting.”“Hunting’s the plan,” Bonnie shot back, sipping slow. “Any recommendations?”The bartender laughed. “See the guy by the bulkhead? Ink on his neck, looks like he eats trouble for breakfast? That
Noah POV “Cade, wake up! We leave in ten,” Silas’s voice cut through the tent. Noah’s heart jumped—today wasn’t just morning, it was the day everything changed.Cade’s arm was locked around his waist like a steel band, chest pressed to Noah’s back, morning wood digging into his ass like it had a personal vendetta.Noah tried to move.Cade’s arm tightened.“Not again,” Noah groaned, voice still rough from screaming half the night. “Cade, we fucked four times yesterday. My ass is on strike.”Cade nipped his shoulder, right over the fresh bite mark. “Five. I need five.”Noah laughed, couldn’t help it. “You animal.”“Missed you for weeks,” Cade muttered, grinding slow against him. “Gimme one more before we go fight your father-in-law.”Noah rolled over, kissed him soft. “You’re insane.”“And you love it.”They were still kissing, lazy and deep, when Silas’s voice boomed outside the tent.“Lovebirds! Sun’s up. We ride in twenty. Get your asses out here.”Cade flipped the tent flap the bir
Liv stood frozen in the hallway, ear pressed to the war-room door.Her father’s voice was ice.“We ride at dawn. Full strength. Cade’s gone rogue. The omega’s poisoned him. We take the boy, we take the Relic, we end this before Christmas. No survivors.”Liv’s stomach flipped.She backed away slow, heart hammering so loud she was scared they’d hear it.Cade and Nora had escaped two nights ago.She’d watched them climb out the window.She’d seen the blood trail in the snow.She’d heard the guards screaming.And she hadn’t said a damn word.Because Cade was her brother.And Noah was the closest thing to family Cade had ever had.So she did the only thing she could think of.She walked into the kitchen like nothing was wrong.Aunt Denise was elbow-deep in chili, sweat on her forehead.Aunt Carla was rolling pie crust and singing off-key Christmas carols.Aunt Marla was chopping onions and crying harder than usual.Grandma sat at the table peeling potatoes like she was skinning enemies.Li







