LOGINSêx is hard work (2)Samantha’s POVThe moment Dan’s fingers brushed the inside of my thigh I waited for the usual routine to kick in. The slight warmth, the pleasant tingle, the steady build of stimulation that always felt nice but never quite crossed the line into anything overwhelming.I had learned to fake the big finish years ago, arching my back, gasping at the right moment, clenching around nothing while the client groaned and congratulated himself. It worked every time. It kept the money coming and the complaints low. So when Dan slid his palm higher and cupped me through my panties I relaxed into the familiar script.His touch was gentle at first, almost exploratory, thumb stroking the seam of my panties while his other hand cradled the back of my neck. He kissed
A tired woman, a quiet motel room, and a night that feels nothing like a job.Samantha’s POVThe clock on the motel nightstand blinked 2:14 a.m. and the room smelled like old cigarettes and cheap pine cleaner. I sat on the edge of the bed in my usual black lace set, thighs pressed together against the chill that seeped through the thin carpet.My phone screen glowed in my lap while I scrolled through the list of late-night inquiries that had trickled in after midnight. Most of them were the same old names, same old requests, same old red flags waving in my gut. I had learned to trust that feeling years ago. When my stomach twisted or my skin crawled, I swiped left without replying. No explanation. No second chances.Tonight I was tired in my bones. My father had texted twice already.
Hey, I Know Those Nípples! (2)Sydney’s POVThe door clicked shut behind us and I felt the shift in the air the moment Damien stepped fully inside my apartment. The ring light was still on, bathing the bed in soft pink and purple glow. My laptop sat open on the nightstand with chat scrolling fast on the paused feed. The BRB fox was still looping, but the viewer count had climbed past three hundred while I was gone. They were waiting. Hungry. Tipping just to keep the screen alive.I turned to Damien and pressed a finger to his lips before he could speak.“Quiet for ten seconds,” I whispered. “Then you get everything you’ve been paying for.”His e
A familiar face, a locked door, and a line between fantasy and reality that vanishes fast.Damien’s POVThe room was dark except for the blue-white glow from my second monitor and the soft pink wash coming off the main screen. MaskedVixen was right in the middle of her Thursday night ritual: legs hooked over the arms of her velvet chair, black lace mask hiding everything above her nose, glossy lips parted while she worked the thick purple vibrator in slow, teasing circles against her clít. Her signature breathy moans filled my headphones and I had one hand wrapped around my côck, stroking in lazy rhythm with her movements. I was already close, balls tight, pré-cùm slicking my palm, when the toy gave one final stuttering buzz and died.“Fúck,” Vixen laughed, the sound half-a
My Demon Husband Makes Me Wet with His Mind (2)Amy’s POVThe highway stretched ahead like a black ribbon under the late-afternoon sun and the air inside the SUV still carried the faint sweetness of the gardenia tucked behind my ear.Randal drove with both hands on the wheel and his jaw set in that careful way he used whenever he was trying very hard not to lose control. I could see the tension in his shoulders and the way his knuckles whitened every time I shifted in my seat.The orgasm he had given me with nothing but his mind still echoed between my legs: a dull, delicious throb that refused to fade. Every bump in the road sent a fresh spark through my clit and reminded me how empty I felt now that his invisible touc
Everyone sees the gentleman. Only Amy knows the predator beneath the smile.Chapter One: Amy’s POVThe open-air market smelled of fresh bread and sun-warmed peaches and the faint metallic tang of silver jewelry laid out on velvet cloth. Randal walked beside me with one hand resting lightly on the small of my back and the other carrying every bag I had already accumulated. He insisted on holding them even though I told him I could manage. Every time I reached for one he simply lifted it higher and gave me that soft, almost shy smile that made every vendor within ten feet sigh and call him “such a gentleman.”He was good at this part. The gentle husband routine. He stopped at a flower stall and chose a single white gardenia, tucked it behind my ear with careful fingers, then stepped back to admi







