MasukI flinched hard, my body jerking like I’d been slapped. My hand froze between my legs, fingers still slick and buried inside me, but everything else went ice cold. Dad and Luca stood there in the doorway, the air thick with the scent of my arousal and the hotel’s stale AC. Dad’s face twisted from shock to something darker, his eyes dropping down my body, lingering on my exposed pussy. Luca’s towel clung low on his hips, water droplets tracing paths over his chest, but his gaze was locked right there too, unblinking.“Dad… Luca… it’s not what it seems like… I was… I was… just…” The words tumbled out in a pathetic stutter, my voice cracking. My cheeks burned, heart slamming against my ribs like it wanted out. I yanked the sheet up to cover myself, but it was too late—they’d seen everything. My mind raced: grounded forever? Kicked out? Family ruined? This was it, the end of me, exposed and humiliated in this stupid Jasmine costume, halter top askew, pants crumpled on the floor.Dad cut m
I’ve been buzzing about this cosplay thing with Luca for weeks. Ever since Mom announced the family vacation to Disneyland, we’ve been texting non-stop, plotting every detail. “Sash, you’re gonna kill it as Jasmine,” he’d message me late at night, his words popping up with those fire emojis that made my stomach flip a little. Not in a weird way—Luca’s my stepbrother, after all—but there’s always been this playful energy between us, like we’re in on some secret joke the rest of the world doesn’t get. He’s 24 now, all grown up with that easy grin and those broad shoulders from his gym obsession, but to me, he’s still the guy who snuck me candy when our parents weren’t looking.We’d video call, him holding up sketches of Aladdin’s vest, me twirling in front of the camera with fabric swatches for my outfit. “Imagine the pics we’ll get,” I’d say, laughing as I struck a pose. “Private story only—none of that family-friendly crap.” Luca would chuckle, deep and teasing. “Yeah, keep it exclusi
As the clock ticked toward midnight on New Year’s Eve, I, Diana, felt a thrill buzzing through me like the champagne bubbles in my glass. We’d rented this cozy cabin in the mountains with our friends, Mark and Lisa, to escape the chaos of the city parties. My boyfriend, Alex, looked so damn handsome in his fitted black shirt, sleeves rolled up to show off those forearms I loved gripping during our more intense moments. Mark and Lisa were equally wrapped up in each other—her in a sparkling red dress that hugged her curves, him in jeans that did nothing to hide how much he appreciated it. We’d been friends for years, the kind who shared everything from vacations to inside jokes, but tonight felt different. Electric. We all wanted to start the new year with a bang—literally.The fire crackled in the hearth, casting warm glows across the wooden floors and plush rugs. We’d popped open a bottle of bubbly early, toasting to resolutions we half-meant to keep. “To new adventures,” Alex had sai
I hadn’t expected New Year’s Eve to feel like this. Usually, it was glitter, crowded bars, and fake confetti smiles. But this year, it was just us. Just him. The city skyline outside our apartment stretched endlessly, lights twinkling like distant stars, and I could hear the faint hum of fireworks in the distance.He was leaning against the kitchen counter, a smirk tugging at his lips, eyes scanning me like I was something dangerous, beautiful, and entirely his. My heart jumped before I could even process why.“You look… incredible,” he said softly, voice low. His fingers absently ran along the rim of his glass, but I could feel his gaze tracing every curve, every line, like he wanted to memorize me.“Do I?” I teased, tilting my head, trying to sound casual, but my voice shook a little.“Yes,” he said, straight and simple, as if that settled it. He pushed off the counter, taking a slow, deliberate step toward me. My breath hitched. Every step closer made my chest tighten.I had been w
I’m horny. Please… just fuck me. I promise I’d tip you extra when the plane lands.The words fell out of my mouth before I could catch them, low and shaky, right against the soft collar of his uniform as he leaned over to collect my empty champagne flute. Zion froze for half a second—long enough that I felt the heat crawl up my neck.“I’m sorry, ma’am,” he said quietly, voice velvet-smooth and professional, the way they train them to sound even when a passenger is clearly losing it, “but that’s against our protocol. I can’t help you with… that.”My thighs pressed together under the blanket so hard I felt the ache spike. “Please. You can’t leave me like this.” My voice cracked on the last word and I hated how desperate it sounded, but I was past caring. “I’d give you a thousand bucks. Cash. Right now.”He finally met my eyes—really met them. Dark brown, steady, the tiniest flicker of something that wasn’t protocol. He exhaled through his nose.“Add five hundred,” he said, so soft I bar
I gripped the microphone tighter as I scanned the crowd milling around in front of the Eiffel Tower, my camera guy trailing a few steps behind with the rig steady on his shoulder. It was a busy afternoon, tourists everywhere, and I’d already handed out a couple hundred euros to people who nailed my pop culture questions. The game was simple: answer right, get cash. Answer wrong, and you owe me a favor—usually something harmless like dancing on camera or shouting something embarrassing. But today, I was feeling bold, looking for someone who might play along with something riskier.That’s when I spotted him. He was leaning against a railing, scrolling on his phone, earbuds in, completely oblivious. Mid-twenties, maybe, with messy ginger hair, a fitted black t-shirt that hugged his lean chest and arms, and jeans that sat low on his hips. He had that effortless look—sharp jawline, full lips, the kind of guy who turned heads without trying. I felt a stir in my gut immediately, that familia







