Last chance โอกาสสุดท้ายของนายคนเดียว18+

Lilly crooked a finger. "On your knees, Salma. Crawl to me."

There was a hesitation, not from resistance, but from pride breaking. Salma obeyed, dropping to all fours and crawling, her eyes glued to the apex of Lilly’s thighs where slickness already gathered, glistening under the heat of her own power.

"Remember how I taste?" Lilly purred.

"Every fucking night I dream of it," Salma admitted, voice hoarse.

"Then refresh your memory."

Salma dove in, mouth hot and wet, licking a broad stripe up the center of Lilly’s cunt, groaning when her tongue found that sensitive, pulsing nub.

Lilly’s head tilted back, a sinful smile curving her lips as she grabbed Salma by the hair. "No teasing, bitch. Eat me like you mean it."

Link watched, his cock already stiff and leaking, his hand gripping the base as he stroked slowly, savoring every sight and sound.

Salma obeyed, her tongue insistent, lapping, sucking, her teeth scraping just enough to sting. She pushed her face deeper, nosing against Lilly’s clit while two fingers plunged deep inside, curling perfectly.

Lilly gasped, the jolt of pleasure setting her muscles alight. She pushed Salma harder, grinding against her face. "That’s it. Sloppy and nasty, just how I like it."

"Fuck, look at you," Link growled, his voice thick. "Wrecked already and I haven’t even touched you yet."

Lilly's eyes, half-lidded with lust, flicked to him. "Don’t you dare stop watching. I want you to see me cum on her face."

Salma worked faster, her mouth devouring Lilly’s heat, her fingers merciless. The wet, obscene sounds of her tongue mixed with Lilly’s growing cries.

"More. Fill me with your fingers. Stretch me."

Salma grunted, adding another finger, then a fourth, stretching Lilly open until she moaned like she was being fucked by more than hands.

"You’re so fucking greedy," Link muttered, stroking himself faster.

Lilly shuddered, her legs trembling. "I’m cumming. Fuck, I’m gonna flood your mouth, Salma. Take it. Take everything."

With a sharp cry, Lilly came, her body jerking as her orgasm tore through her, wetness pouring out, soaking Salma’s face. Salma lapped at her desperately, swallowing, groaning like a starved animal.

When the tremors eased, Lilly yanked her up by the hair, spit and slick glistening on Salma’s chin. "Good little bitch. Sit over there. Don’t fucking touch yourself unless I say so."

Salma obeyed, breathless, cheeks flushed.

Lilly turned, eyes locked on Link. She pointed to the bed, her voice a growl. "Come here. Now."

Link stood, his cock hard and heavy, precum beading at the tip. He prowled to her, grabbed her roughly by the hips, and kissed her with teeth, with hunger.

"So wet," he hissed. "You let her ruin you for me."

"All for you," Lilly whispered. "Now fuck me. Fuck me so hard she knows I’m yours."

Link didn’t hesitate. He spun her, bending her over the bed, and rammed into her with a single, brutal thrust. Lilly screamed, her back arching, her nails clawing the sheets.

"Harder! Break me, Link!"

"You’ll take every inch, Flame. You’ll take it and fucking beg for more."

He pounded into her, each thrust shaking the bed, the slap of skin on skin echoing. His hands bruised her hips, his pace unforgiving.

"Say it," he growled. "Say who owns this cunt."

Lily

I should’ve taken the creepy wrought iron gate as a sign. Not just a red flag, but the whole damn marching band. My rideshare driver didn’t even wait for me to get both feet out before he sped off, tires screeching as if the forest itself was trying to claw him back. The trees lining the gravel path leaned in like gossiping witches, their gnarled limbs reaching for me with curiosity—or hunger.

The Greyhowl Estate rose from the mist like something pulled from the spine of a Gothic horror novel. Massive, looming, and utterly disinterested in modern life. It didn’t welcome me. It

“Welcome to the Greyhowl Estate,” I whispered to myself. My words vanished in the chilled air, stolen by the fog that curled around my boots like curious snakes.

I tightened my hoodie around my frame and tried not to shake. Not from the cold—no. From something else. The place had a pulse. Not metaphorical, either. I

New job. New life. New version of Lily, the one who didn’t flinch when men raised their voices or hesitate when making decisions. That’s what I told myself. Over and over.

My phone buzzed in my coat pocket.

Marcy [BFF]:

Lily:

Marcy:

Lily:

Before I could hit send, the door creaked open.

A tall woman stepped out. Sharp cheekbones. Impeccable posture. Dressed like a corporate villainess in black-on-black. Her dark eyes skimmed over me like I was a gum stain on marble.

“You’re late,” she said, voice flat, accent vague and expensive.

“I’m Lily,” I offered with my best ‘please don’t eat me’ smile. “My GPS took me to a barn. I may have joined a chicken cult.”

She blinked once.

“I’m Celeste. House Manager. Come.”

She turned and disappeared into the mansion like she expected me to follow without question. And I did. Because, apparently, I’m that girl now.

The doors groaned shut behind me with the finality of a sealed tomb.

Inside, it was colder. Colder than outside. Despite the roaring fireplace, the air had that museum quality—preserved and haunted. Dark wood walls. Chandeliers dripping with crystals. Paintings that watched you.

One, I swear,

“You’ll have quarters on the east wing,” Celeste said, heels echoing on marble. “There are house rules. No one enters the West Wing. No wandering after 10 PM. No social media. And under no circumstances are you to approach the Alpha.”

I stumbled, literally.

“I’m sorry, the what?”

“The Alpha,” she repeated. “Head of this household. He is not to be disturbed.”

Okay. So

Not just rich—alpha rich. The kind of old-money brooding power that came with whisper networks, secret staircases, and staff that disappeared for asking the wrong question.

“Of course,” I said, and mentally filed that under: “Shit I will absolutely ignore if someone’s bleeding.”

She led me through a maze of hallways. Portraits, ornate rugs, weirdly cold air. I felt watched. Not in the ‘too many cameras’ way. In the ‘I might be prey’ way.

We passed an enormous double door with iron vines snaking across its face.

“West Wing,” she said, like that explained anything.

Duly noted.

My room was… bigger than expected. A four-poster bed. Antique vanity. Fireplace crackling with heatless flame. It felt like stepping into someone else’s memory. There was even a dressing gown laid out for me.

Mrs. Halloway, the head housekeeper, handed me a name badge and a clipboard of cleaning assignments. She had the eyes of someone who used to smile but hadn’t in years.

I started in the north corridor, dusting windows and trying not to touch anything that looked like it had feelings. Everything was just a little

When I reached the library, I paused.

Floor-to-ceiling shelves. Velvet chairs. A spiral staircase. It was breathtaking. Smelled like leather and citrus and something deeper—something animal.

I stepped inside and got to work. But the moment I climbed the ladder to reach the top shelf, I felt it again.

Eyes.

Someone watching me.

The air shifted behind me. My skin prickled.

I turned—and there he was.

Tall. Still. Dressed in black. Muscles taut beneath his button-down. Raven hair tousled like a storm had passed through it. His eyes—moonlight and smoke—met mine.

Time shattered.

The world dropped away.

My mouth went dry.

He didn’t speak.

Didn’t move.

Just

Possessed me.

My legs trembled. My heart skidded.

I swallowed. “Sorry. I was just… dusting.”

His jaw clenched. His nostrils flared.

For a second, something wild flickered in those eyes. Something that said:

And then—he turned.

Walked away.

Left me gasping like I’d nearly drowned.

I stood frozen, hand gripping the ladder, body humming with something I didn’t understand.

I looked down at my phone.

Lily:

Marcy:

Lily:

I hit send, then locked my phone. It felt stupid. Too normal. Too safe. Because nothing about this was safe.

And somehow…

I didn’t want it to be.