MasukPrescott
The familiar scent of leather and polished wood hit me the second I stepped into my office. One whole week at that ridiculous camp felt like a fever dream. Finally back where I belonged top floor, corner office, king of my father’s empire. My secretary, Lena, was waiting for me like the good little bitch she is, welcome back my Zane. The moment the door clicked shut, she was on her knees unbuckling my belt and freeing my hard cock as she takes it all in slurping on it like a hungry bitch licking and sucking like it’s lollipop fuckkk I’ve missed this. I pull her up and bent over my desk, skirt shoved up around her waist, her pussy was already wet and swollen so wet for me as I shove my cock buried deep inside her. “Fuck, Press… I missed this,” she moaned, pushing back against me as I thrust hard and fast. Papers scattered across the floor. I didn’t care I gripped her hips, pounding into her tight pussy with all the frustration I’d built up at camp. She came first, clenching around me and crying out my name. I followed right after, groaning as I spilled deep inside her. I pulled out, gave her ass a firm slap, and zipped myself up. “Clean yourself up before someone sees,” I told her casually. Lena was still catching her breath when the door swung open without a knock. Marcus walked in, eyebrows raised at the scene. Lena quickly smoothed down her skirt, grabbed some files, and slipped out with a flushed face. Marcus laughed, dropping into the chair across from my desk. “Jesus, man. Not even back a full day and you’re already balls-deep in your secretary. Some things never change.” I smirked, buttoning my shirt. “What can I say? She’s convenient. No drama, no expectations. Exactly how I like it.” He shook his head, amused. “So, how was the camp? You conquer the entire female population up there or what?” I dropped into my leather chair and leaned back, running a hand through my hair. “Mostly, plenty of easy pussy. But there was this one bitch who ruined half my fun.” Marcus raised an eyebrow. “Oh?” “Some fatso named Aurora,” I said, the irritation still fresh. “Curvy as hell, but with a mouth on her like a damn sailor. Walked in on me getting head in the bathroom and acted like I committed a crime. Then she spent the whole week cockblocking me with her hot best friend, Zoe.” I scoffed. “Zoe was ready to ride my dick every night. Pretty, tight body, flirty as fuck. But every time I got close, Aurora would drag her away and fill her head with ‘he’s dangerous’ bullshit. Completely killed my chances of fucking Zoe senseless.” Marcus chuckled. “Sounds like she blue-balled you hard.” “More like blue-balled my entire week,” I growled. “Kept glaring at me like I was the devil. Called me a disgusting fuckboy every chance she got. Can you believe that shit? Me.” Marcus leaned forward, clearly entertained. “She must have been something else to get under your skin like this.” “She was nothing,” I lied, waving it off. “Just an annoying, jealous fatso who couldn’t stand watching me enjoy myself. Good riddance. Camp’s over. I’m back to real life now.” But even as I said it, the memory of Aurora’s furious eyes across the bonfire lingered longer than it should have. Marcus grinned. “Well, welcome home, man. Sounds like you need a proper night out to make up for lost time.” I smirked. “Damn right.”PrescottI pushed into her in one slow, controlled thrust and nearly lost my mind.Aurora’s mouth opened against mine in a silent cry as her body took me, tight and soaked and trembling from everything I had already done to her. I sank deeper until there was nothing left between us, forehead pressed to hers, every muscle locked with the effort of staying quiet while her heat clenched around my cock.“Fuck,” I breathed.Her nails bit into my shoulders. “Don’t stop.”I drew back and thrust in again, deeper, watching her face the whole time. The need to bury myself in her after two days of denial was violent, but the house forced discipline into every movement. No slamming headboard. No careless sound. Just the hard, controlled roll of my hips as I fucked her into the mattress with everything we had been forced to swallow since Dominic and Elena came home.Aurora wrapped her legs around my waist and pulle
PrescottShe was still trembling in my hands when I pulled her up from my cock.Aurora’s mouth was swollen, her breath uneven, eyes dark with the exact kind of need that had nearly ended me while she sucked me like she had been starving for it. For a second I could only look at her and process the insanity of the moment: my father’s wife across the hall, my father down the same corridor, and Aurora in my bed with the taste of me still on her tongue.Any careful version of me would have sent her back to her room.That version was not in control anymore.“Stay still for me,” I whispered.I rolled her onto her back and braced over her, kissing her deep and slow enough to muffle the sounds she kept trying to make. She arched when my hand slid under her sleep shirt and found bare skin. No bra. Soft, warm, already responsive under my palm. I pushed the shirt up and took one nipple into my mouth, sucking carefully at f
AuroraI lasted until 1:17 a.m.I know because I had stared at the clock long enough for the numbers to burn into the dark. The house had finally gone still. Dominic’s study light was out. Elena’s room had been quiet for over an hour. Even the air-conditioning seemed to move more carefully through the halls, as if the mansion itself understood how dangerous sound had become.I sat on the edge of my bed in a thin sleep shirt, thighs pressed together, pulse high in my throat. All day I had performed restraint. All evening I had sat at that table and pretended the man across from me was only my stepbrother, my boss, the son of the house. Every unspent glance and denied touch had collected under my skin until my body felt impatient with my own caution.I needed him.Not tomorrow. Not after the review. Not once the house emptied again.Now.I opened my door one inch at a time. The hallway stretched in pale shado
AuroraMorning in the mansion felt like walking through a house that had quietly changed ownership overnight.I woke early, dressed with more care than usual, and paused at my bedroom door before opening it. Across the hall, Elena and Dominic’s suite was already quiet with the kind of occupied silence that meant they were awake. Farther down, Prescott’s door remained closed. For weeks that distance had meant almost nothing. One of us would cross it before breakfast, or after midnight, or in the thin hours where secrecy still felt manageable. Now the hallway itself might as well have been a border.I went downstairs first.Elena was in the kitchen, hair pinned neatly, pouring coffee with the calm of a woman determined to impose order on a house full of tension. She smiled when she saw me.“You’re up early.”“Habit,” I said. “Do you need help?”“Sit. Eat. Your father and Prescott are already turning the morning i
AuroraThe mansion felt different the moment we stepped through the door.It was subtle at first the extra set of keys on the console table, the soft click of another lamp left on in the front sitting room, the faint trace of Elena’s perfume in the air. Then I heard voices deeper inside the house, and my body understood before my mind finished arranging the implications.Prescott stopped beside me. His hand, which had been low at my back as we entered, fell away at once.“They’re home,” he said under his breath.Before I could answer, Dominic appeared in the archway to the living room, still in travel clothes, phone in one hand, expression carved into hard practicality. Elena was behind him, elegant even in exhaustion, her gaze moving from Prescott to me with the quick assessment of a woman who noticed atmosphere as easily as facts.“You’re back earlier than expected,” Prescott said.“We had to be,” Dominic rep
AuroraThe backlash arrived before noon.It did not come as a single dramatic blow. It came the way all of their moves came almost predictable through channels, implications, and people who enjoyed watching a polished reputation catch fire. By the time I reached my desk on Monday, two separate messages had already asked whether the Zane-Hale relationship was “under review,” and a third, from a mid-level operations manager who never spoke to me unless he needed something, offered a sympathetic smile that made my skin crawl.Prescott’s strike had landed.And Marcus was no longer interested in soft delays.Through the glass, Prescott was already on a call, jacket on, expression carved into cold focus. He had warned me the response would come harder. Still, seeing the building absorb the news so quickly made my pulse tighten. Preferred-partner removals did not remain private. They traveled.Lena stopped at my des







