LOGINThe next two days were pure torture.Every morning session with Jax left me a sweaty, aching mess. He pushed me harder than ever — making me do extra reps as “punishment” for being a brat, then edging me mercilessly with his fingers or tongue until I was begging. But he never fucked me. He always stopped right before I got what I really craved, leaving me dripping and desperate.By Thursday night, I couldn’t take it anymore.At 10:45 PM, after the house was quiet and my parents were asleep, I sent him a text.Kira: Extra training session. Gym. Now. I can’t sleep.His reply came almost instantly.Jax: Be there in 5 minutes. Wear the tiny shorts again. And nothing underneath.My heart raced as I changed into the same micro-shorts from the first session and a thin cropped tank top with no bra. The house was dark as I snuck downstairs to the home gym.The lights were already dimmed when I arrived.Jax was waiting.He stood in the center of the room wearing only black gym shorts, his musc
I barely slept after that first gym session.Every time I closed my eyes, I saw myself in the mirror — flushed and desperate, with Jax’s thick fingers buried deep inside my pussy while he growled filthy things about ruining me. My body was still buzzing with unfulfilled need, and my panties were ruined again by morning.At 7:00 AM sharp, I walked into the home gym wearing the sluttiest workout outfit I could find: tiny black micro-shorts that barely covered my ass cheeks and a cropped white sports bra that barely contained my full breasts. My hair was in a high ponytail, and I had a deliberate bratty smirk on my face.Jax was already there, waiting.He looked even more imposing in the morning light — tight black compression shirt stretching across his muscular chest and shoulders, gym shorts hugging his powerful thighs. His jaw tightened the moment he saw my outfit.“You’re late again,” he said, voice low and controlled. “And dressed like you’re going to a club, not a training sessi
The home gym in my family’s mansion was state-of-the-art — mirrored walls, top-of-the-line equipment, and floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the pool. But I hated it.At 20 years old, I was supposed to be enjoying life, not sweating under some strict trainer my father hired because he thought I was “getting too soft.”The trainer arrived at exactly 7:00 AM.Jax.He was 37, ex-military, tall and ripped with broad shoulders, thick arms, and a no-nonsense stare that made my stomach flip the second he walked in. Dark hair, sharp jaw, and a body built like he could pin me down without breaking a sweat. He wore a tight black compression shirt and gym shorts that did nothing to hide his powerful thighs.“Miss Kira,” he said, voice deep and commanding. “Your father wants results. I don’t tolerate excuses or lateness. We start now.”I showed up ten minutes late on purpose, wearing tiny black workout shorts that barely covered my ass and a cropped sports bra that pushed my full breasts up. My
My father announced the trip casually at breakfast the next morning.“Aria, I need you to go to the family beach house this weekend to check on some renovations. Marcus will drive you. It’s a six-hour trip each way, so you’ll stay overnight. He’ll handle everything.”I nearly dropped my coffee.Marcus stood silently by the door like always — professional, expressionless. But when our eyes met for a split second, I saw the dark hunger flash in his gaze.Six hours alone in the car with him.One night at the empty beach house.No staff. No security cameras inside the house. Just us.My pussy clenched at the thought.The drive started at 9 AM. I wore a short sundress with nothing underneath — easy access. Marcus loaded my small bag into the trunk, opened the back door for me like the perfect driver, and we pulled away from the mansion.For the first two hours, the tension was unbearable.We barely spoke. The privacy screen stayed down so he could see me in the rearview mirror. Every time
The rest of the day was pure torture.Every lecture, every step across campus, every time I sat down — I felt the ghost of Marcus’s thick fingers stretching me, his deep voice calling me “princess,” and the way his fat cockhead had teased my entrance in morning traffic. My panties stayed damp all day. I kept checking my phone, half-hoping, half-dreading a message from him.He didn’t text.But at 11:40 PM, when I was leaving a friend’s birthday party at a loud downtown club, my phone finally buzzed.Marcus: Outside. Black Maybach. Now.My heart slammed against my ribs. I said quick goodbyes to my friends and hurried out. The sleek car was waiting at the curb, engine running low. Marcus stood beside the open back door in his usual black suit, looking tall, composed, and dangerously handsome under the streetlights.“Miss Aria,” he said politely for anyone watching, but his eyes burned with hunger as they raked over my short, tight club dress that barely covered my ass.I slid into the
I woke up the next morning with my heart still racing and my panties soaked from the memory of Marcus’s thick fingers and his massive cock in my mouth.Last night felt like a fever dream. My father’s driver — the quiet, dominant 40-year-old man who had been driving me for months — had fingered me senseless in the backseat and fucked my mouth while my father was on the phone. The risk, the dirty words, the way he called me “princess” while stretching me… it was all I could think about.Guilt should have hit me harder. This was so wrong. Marcus worked for my family. One wrong move and my father could destroy his life. But instead of regret, all I felt was aching need.I dressed carefully for college — a short pleated skirt, tight white blouse that showed just enough cleavage, and thigh-high socks. I knew Marcus would be waiting downstairs to drive me.The moment I stepped out of the mansion, he was there beside the black Maybach, holding the back door open like always. He looked impecc
Chapter 3: Taking ControlI’m still catching my breath on the exam table, legs weak and trembling, when Elias steps back and sits on the rolling stool again. His white coat is slightly rumpled now, the top buttons undone, chest rising and falling a little faster than before. He looks at me — reall
Chapter 2: The First TouchI arrive at 11:55 p.m. sharp. The hallway lights dim themselves as I walk, like the building knows what’s about to happen. My heart is already thudding against my ribs. Tonight I didn’t wear the simple black dress. Instead I chose something far more dangerous: a deep
Chapter 1: The ConsultationThe clinic’s automatic doors sigh shut behind me at 11:47 p.m. The lobby is empty except for the soft blue glow of the reception desk lamp and the faint scent of eucalyptus cutting through antiseptic. My heels click too loudly on the polished marble. I feel exposed al
Chapter 2: Jax please...He doesn't let me catch my breath.One hand fists my hair, yanking my head back just enough to arch me harder. The other clamps my hip like he's anchoring himself against a storm. Every thrust slams forward — deep, punishing, claiming. The patrol car's leather creaks under







