LOGINNora
I used to think love would save me.
Three years of my life went into Asher like I was building something that would last. I covered for him when he fucked up with the elders. I stayed up with him after brutal training sessions, rubbing the knots out of his shoulders while he talked about how one day he’d lead the pack and I’d stand right there beside him as Luna. I let him knot me during my heats even when it left me sore for days, because he said it proved I was his. I swallowed every promise he fed me — that I mattered, that the pack would see my strength, that I wasn’t just some girl he was passing time with.
All bullshit. Fuckng bull shit!
The night he rejected me in front of the pack still sits in my chest like a bruise that won’t fade. His voice was so flat. Like he was reading off a list. ‘You’re too emotional. Too weak. The pack needs someone who can actually stand next to me.’ I stood there in that stupid black dress I’d worn for him and felt something inside me crack for good.
So yeah. That’s how I ended up at the bar in the middle of the week, four whiskeys deep, trying to drink the memory of his fucking face out of my head.
The club was loud enough to drown out most of my thoughts. Bass rattling my ribs. Bodies moving like they didn’t have a single worry in the world. I kept my eyes on the glass in front of me and told myself if I just kept swallowing, eventually I’d stop feeling like such a fucking idiot.
I didn’t notice the guy next to me at first. Not until that voice came out of him.
“Whiskey. Neat.”
It was low, rough. The kind of voice that didn’t need to raise itself to be heard. It rolled through the noise around us like it owned the space. I felt it in my spine before I even turned my head.
He was sitting two stools over, hood pulled low over his face, his shoulders taking up more room than they had any right to. Big hands. One resting on the bar like he was deciding whether to break it. Even with the cloak and the shadows, something about the way he held himself made the air feel heavier.
I knew that posture. Everyone in Blackthorn knew it.
Alpha Kael. My ex’s father.
The one who’d been gone for months on some peace-keeping bullshit up north, training his senses or whatever the fuck Alphas do when they disappear. Nobody had seen him since he left. And here he was, hiding under a hoodie in a human club like he was just another wolf trying to get drunk in peace.
He didn’t know who I was. Why would he? I was just Asher’s girlfriend. Background noise. A girl his son had thrown away.
But I knew him. And the second that realization hit, something ugly and hot twisted in my stomach.
Revenge.
The thought came so fast and so clear it almost scared me. Asher had humiliated me in front of everyone. Made me feel small. Worthless. What better way to pay him back than to let his own father use me?
I turned on my stool before I could talk myself out of it. My dress rode up my thighs and I didn’t fix it.
“Rough night?” I asked, my voice a little hoarse from the whiskey.
His head tilted just enough for me to catch the edge of his jaw under the hood. Strong. Sharp. Older than Asher’s by a couple decades but still carved like stone.
“You could say that,” he answered. That voice again. It settled low in my belly. “You?”
I laughed, short and bitter. “My ex decided I wasn’t good enough for his pack. Said I was weak. Emotional. A liability.” I took another sip, let the burn sit on my tongue. “So yeah. Rough fucking month.”
He was quiet for a second. Then: “Sounds like he’s the liability.”
Something in me snapped into focus.
I slid off my stool and stepped between his spread knees. Close enough to smell him properly — pine and smoke and something darker underneath, something that made my pulse kick hard. He smelled like power. Like the kind of man who didn’t ask permission for anything.
“Buy me another drink,” I said, looking straight at the shadows under his hood, “and I’ll show you exactly how strong I can be.”
His gloved hand caught my wrist. Not rough. Just… there. Heavy. “Careful, little wolf. You don’t know what game you’re playing.”
“I know exactly what I’m playing,” I told him. My heart was hammering but my voice stayed steady. “And I want it. And you, Mr. Stranger, are going to give it to me! And I am not asking.”
Ten minutes later we were locked in the bathroom.
The second the door shut I was on him, shoving that heavy cloak open, my hands already working his belt like I’d lose my nerve if I slowed down. His cock was already hard when I pulled it out — thick, heavy, way bigger than Asher’s, flushed dark at the head. I dropped to my knees on the dirty tile without thinking twice.
“Fuck,” he growled when I licked up the underside. One of his hands fisted in my hair. “You’re not wasting any time.”
I didn’t answer with words. Just opened my mouth and took him as deep as I could on the first try, gagging on purpose, letting spit run down my chin and drip onto the floor. I wanted it messy. I wanted it nasty. I wanted to be the kind of girl who’d suck her ex’s dad in a club bathroom and not even blink.
He tasted clean and a little bitter. I moaned around him anyway and hollowed my cheeks, bobbing my head fast and sloppy. His hips jerked once before he got control of himself.
“Jesus Christ,” he muttered. “Where the fuck did you come from?”
I pulled off long enough to look up at him, my lips shiny, mascara already starting to run. I grabbed his cock, fisting it rapidly with both hands, “Does it matter?”
Then I went back down.
I was being obscene on purpose. Loud. Wet. Letting him hit the back of my throat until my eyes watered. One hand stroked what I couldn’t fit while the other slipped into my purse and pulled out my phone. I set it on the edge of the sink without breaking rhythm, angling it toward us. The little red light blinked on.
He didn’t notice. His head was tipped back against the door, breathing hard, his hips starting to move in short thrusts.
I stood up before he could finish, turned around, and bent over the sink. My dress shoved up over my ass. No panties. I’d come here ready for something stupid and now I was doing it.
Kael was behind me in a second. One big hand grabbed my hip. The other wrapped around my throat and pulled me upright so I had to look at myself in the cracked mirror. My lipstick was already smeared. Eyes glassy. Hair a mess.
“You want this,” he said against my ear. It wasn’t a question.
“I want you to fuck me like you hate your son,” I answered.
He made a sound — half laugh, half growl — and shoved into me in one hard thrust. Clearly, he hadn’t heard what I said. Whew!
I gasped, my fingers gripping the edge of the sink. He was so much thicker than Asher. The stretch burned in the best way. He didn’t wait for me to adjust. Just started fucking me like the bathroom might fall apart around us.
The sounds were disgusting. Skin slapping. My cunt making wet noises every time he bottomed out. My own moans echoing off the tiles. I reached back with one hand and spread myself wider for him, watching in the mirror as his cock disappeared into me over and over.
“Fuck, look at you,” he rasped. “Taking it like you were made for it. Is this what you needed? To get railed in a dirty bathroom by someone who actually knows what the fuck he’s doing?”
“Yes,” I breathed. “Harder. I want to feel it tomorrow.”
He gave it to me. One hand left my throat to slap my ass, hard enough to sting. The other stayed tight in my hair, forcing me to watch every thrust in the mirror. I could see the way my tits bounced, the way my mouth stayed open, the way his jaw clenched every time I squeezed around him.
I angled my body just enough to keep the phone in frame without him noticing. He reached around and rubbed my clit in rough circles. “Cum on my cock, little wolf. Let me feel how much you needed this.”
It hit me fast and mean. My legs shook. I came with a broken sound, my pussy pulsing around him, slick dripping down my thighs. He kept fucking me through it, growling praise and filth in that deep voice until I was shaking.
Then he buried himself deep and came with a low, guttural noise that I felt in my bones. Hot pulses flooded me, thick and endless. I watched in the mirror as some of it leaked out around his cock, running down my leg.
For a few seconds neither of us moved. Just breathing. His forehead pressed between my shoulder blades. My phone still recording quietly on the sink.
I waited until his breathing evened out. Then I grabbed my phone, slipped it back into my purse, and pulled my dress down with shaking hands. I was out the door before he even zipped his pants.
The hallway was empty. The music from the club swallowed everything. I walked fast, head down, cum still leaking down my inner thigh, my heart pounding so hard I thought it might break through my ribs.
Behind me I heard the bathroom door open again.
I didn’t look back. I was already gone. And I had the sex tape of the Alpha recorded on my phone!!
The days lost their edges.We stopped pretending the sex was about the will. The clause still existed somewhere in the desk drawer downstairs, but neither of us reached for it. What we reached for instead was each other.. repeatedly, hungrily, with a single-mindedness that left little room for anything else.Elias’s fixation settled over us like a second climate. He wanted my milk the way some men wanted alcohol or prayer. Morning, afternoon, the middle of the night when the sea was loudest. He would wake me with his mouth already on my breast, sucking in slow, deep pulls until the let-down came and the sweet ache spread through my chest. Only after he had drunk his fill would he move lower, or turn me onto my hands and knees, or pull me into his lap so he could nurse while he was inside me. The combination became the center of everything.I stopped wearing shirts in the house. There was no point. Fabric only trapped the dampness and reminded me how constantly ready my body had become
The days lost their edges.We stopped pretending the sex was about the will. The clause still existed somewhere in the desk drawer downstairs, but neither of us reached for it. What we reached for instead was each other.. repeatedly, hungrily, with a single-mindedness that left little room for anything else.Elias’s fixation settled over us like a second climate. He wanted my milk the way some men wanted alcohol or prayer. Morning, afternoon, the middle of the night when the sea was loudest. He would wake me with his mouth already on my breast, sucking in slow, deep pulls until the let-down came and the sweet ache spread through my chest. Only after he had drunk his fill would he move lower, or turn me onto my hands and knees, or pull me into his lap so he could nurse while he was inside me. The combination became the center of everything.I stopped wearing shirts in the house. There was no point. Fabric only trapped the dampness and reminded me how constantly ready my body had become.
The days blurred into a kind of fever.We did not speak about the will again. We simply kept the agreement. Some nights Elias came to my room. Most nights I went to his. The sex stopped being careful almost immediately. What had begun as a reluctant, almost procedural act turned hungrier with every repetition. He still finished inside me with the same controlled focus, still disposed of the condom with the same quiet efficiency, but the way he looked at me afterward had changed. There was less distance in it. More heat. More of the thing neither of us had agreed to name.My body noticed before my mind did.It started as a low, persistent ache behind my nipples, the kind of tenderness that made even the softest cotton feel abrasive. I told myself it was hormonal noise, the residual chaos of grief and irregular sleep and too much sex. I ignored it the way I ignored the way my pulse jumped whenever I heard his footsteps on the stairs. Then the heaviness arrived. My breasts felt fuller, t
I did not go to him the first night.Or the second.On the third night the house felt too quiet to bear. The sea kept throwing itself against the rocks below the cliff like it was trying to get inside. I lay in my childhood bedroom with the window open and the salt air moving across my skin and understood that waiting would not make any of this cleaner.I got up, pulled on the dark robe that still hung on the back of the door, and walked the length of the hallway.His door was closed this time. I stood in front of it long enough to feel foolish, then knocked once.“Come in.”Elias was sitting on the edge of the bed in a white undershirt and dark trousers, elbows on his knees, looking at the floor. The lamp on the nightstand threw a low circle of light. He had taken the quilt off and folded it over the chair. The sheets underneath were plain white, turned down with the same precise care he brought to everything.He looked up when I stepped inside.“You don’t have to do this tonight,” h
LenaThe lawyer’s voice was still echoing in the parlor when the last of the relatives finally left.I stood at the kitchen window and watched their cars pull away down the long gravel drive, red taillights disappearing between the dark pines. The sea was loud tonight. It always was after a storm. Salt air pushed through the old window frames and made the curtains lift like they were breathing.Behind me, Elias set the thick envelope on the table with a quiet sound.“Sit down, Lena.”I sat.The kitchen of the coastal house had always felt too large for ordinary life. High ceilings, worn blue tiles, a long wooden table that had belonged to my mother’s family for three generations. The same table where she used to drink her coffee black and read the paper while the fog was still thick against the glass. Now the only thing on it was the will.Elias poured two glasses of water. He didn’t offer wine. Neither of us had the stomach for it.He looked older than he had at the funeral. The blac
I stop pretending the robe is necessary.When I walk into the study at eight the door is already open. Julian stands beside the examination table, sleeves rolled, the same black shirt he wore the night before. The skeleton is covered. The lights are lower. A small stainless tray sits on the side cart: gloves, a tube of surgical lubricant, and nothing else. He looks at me for a long moment, taking in the fact that I am barefoot and the robe is the only thing between my skin and the cool air of the room.“Close the door.”I close it.“Robe off. On the table. Supine. Knees bent, feet flat.”The fabric slides from my shoulders and pools on the floor. I climb onto the cracked black leather without being told twice. The surface is cool against my bare back and ass. I bend my knees and plant my feet, exposing myself completely under the warm overhead light. My heart is already beating too fast. I can feel how wet I am simply from walking down the stairs knowing what tonight is for.Julian pul
I didn’t go home right away.I walked for almost an hour with cum leaking down my thigh and the video burning a hole in my phone. My legs felt shaky. My pussy was still throbbing from how hard he’d fucked me. Every step reminded me what I’d just done.I fucked my ex’s dad. In a club bathroom.And I
Kevin stared at me for a long moment, his cock still buried deep inside my cum-filled pussy. His expression had changed — the gentle, careful stepfather was fading fast.“You understand what you’re asking for, right?” he asked, his voice low and rough. “If I put a baby in you, that child is going t
I woke up with a slight headache and a very wet pussy.Memories from last night flooded in immediately — my tits out, begging my stepfather to fuck me, his tongue buried deep inside me while I screamed “Daddy.” My face burned with embarrassment… but my body was burning with something much stronger.
SophieI was a fucking mess!The Uber ride home was blurry, the music from the party still ringing in my ears, but nothing could drown out the aching need between my legs. I’d spent the entire night thinking about him. Again. Like I always did.Kevin Randy. My stepfather. The man my mother somehow







