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PLEASE DADDY: A Sinner's Diary TASTING MY STEP-BROTHER'S COCK 2
TASTING MY STEP-BROTHER'S COCK 2Sophia woke to sunlight pouring through sheer curtains and the low thrum of need still coiled tight in her belly. Every inch of her body remembered Julian’s hands, his rough palms sliding up her thighs, thick fingers buried deep inside her, the way he’d watched her fall apart with dark, possessive eyes. She could still taste him on her lips, feel the phantom press of his hard cock against her stomach.She rolled onto her back, her thighs squeezing together. The ache between them was relentless. One hand drifted down, slipping beneath the thin silk of her sleep shorts. She was already soaked, swollen, her clit throbbing. It took only a few slow circles to bring herself off as her quiet gasps muffled into her pillow, her hips lifting as she imagined it was his tongue instead of her fingers.Afterward, she lay there flushed and unsatisfied. A quick release wasn’t enough. She needed more. Needed him.Just then, a text buzzed on her phone.Julian: Meet me a
PLEASE DADDY: A Sinner's Diary TASTING STEP-BROTHER'S COCK
TASTING STEP-BROTHER'S COCKSOPHIE MURPHY (FL) - 20 YRS JULIAN HOWELL (ML) - 32 YRSSophia stepped out of the taxi and onto the sun-warmed gravel driveway, the late July heat pressing against her skin like a lover’s breath. At twenty, she was home from college for the summer, her second year behind her, and everything about this place felt both familiar and strangely new. The sprawling modern house loomed ahead, glass walls, clean lines, a sparkling infinity pool glinting in the distance. Her mother’s new husband, Victor, had excellent taste. And money. Lots of it.But Sophia’s pulse wasn’t racing because of the house.It was racing because of him.Victor’s son. Her new stepfather’s son. Her stepbrother.Julian.She hadn’t seen him in person since the wedding three months ago, when he’d flown in for forty-eight hours, looking devastating in a charcoal suit that hugged his broad shoulders. At thirty-two, Julian was twelve years older—tall, dark-haired, with sharp features and storm-gr
PLEASE DADDY: A Sinner's Diary ROUGE'S CLAIM 3
ROGUE'S CLAIM 3LILA’S POV The mating heat hits like a wildfire in the middle of the third night.I wake up gasping, my body slick with sweat, every inch of my skin burning. The small cabin feels too hot, and too small. My thighs are soaked, my clit throbbing so hard it hurts. Draven’s scent is everywhere—on the furs, on me, in me. It drives the ache deeper, until I’m writhing, my hands pressing between my legs for relief that never comes.Draven is already awake, sitting by the dying fire, his eyes glowing gold in the dark. His chest rises and falls fast, his muscles tense, his cock hard and jutting against his stomach. He’s been watching me, fighting it.“Lila,” he growls, his voice raw. “It’s here.”I roll toward him, my dress tangled around my waist, my breasts bare and heaving. “Make it stop. Please.”He crawls over me, body heat rolling off him in waves. His mouth crashes onto mine, desperate, and devouring. His tongue strokes deep, tasting my need. I moan into him, my nails
PLEASE DADDY: A Sinner's Diary ROGUE'S CLAIM 2
ROGUE'S CLAIM 2 LILA’S POV The next day breaks gray and drizzly, rain pattering on the leaves outside the cave mouth. I wake up, wrapped in furs, Draven’s heavy arm draped over my waist, his chest pressed to my back. His scent is everywhere—deep in my lungs, soaked into my skin. I shift slightly, feeling the sticky remnants of last night between my thighs, the memory of his cum coating me making heat pool low again.He stirs immediately, his arm tightening possessively. His cock is hard against my ass—morning wood, thick and hot even through the fur. He growls low in his throat, his nose burying in my hair, inhaling deep.“Morning, little one,” he rumbles, his voice rough with sleep.I turn in his arms, facing him. His gold eyes are half-lidded, dark hair tousled, beard scruffy. He looks dangerous and delicious.“Morning,” I whisper, my hand tracing the scar on his chest.His hand slides down my side, cupping my bare hip. “Sleep okay?”I nod, biting my lip. The ache is back, worse
PLEASE DADDY: A Sinner's Diary ROUGE'S CLAIM
ROGUE'S CLAIM LILA’S POV The forest is darker than I imagined, the kind of dark that swallows sound and light. My backpack digs into my shoulders, heavy with the few clothes and cash I grabbed before slipping out my bedroom window three nights ago. Eighteen years under my parents’ strict rules, church every Sunday, no boys, no parties, curfew at nine even in senior year, and I finally snapped. I hitchhiked as far as the money allowed, then started walking, drawn to these woods by some stupid romantic notion of freedom.Now, freedom feels like terror.Branches snag my jeans, the roots trip me in the moonlight filtering through the canopy. My phone died yesterday, no signal anyway. I’m lost, hungry, and the howls I’ve been hearing for hours are getting closer.I freeze at a low growl ahead. Yellow eyes gleam between trees, too many. Wolves. Real ones, bigger than any I’ve seen in zoos, circling me slowly.My heart slams against my ribs. I back up, my hands out. “Nice puppies… stay…”
PLEASE DADDY: A Sinner's Diary SUMMER TUTOR 3
SUMMER TUTOR 3CHLOE’S POV The storm clears overnight, leaving the air washed clean and heavy with the scent of wet earth. I wake early, my body buzzing with anticipation I can’t shake. Yesterday’s kiss—and everything that followed—plays on repeat in my mind: Elias’s fingers inside me, the taste of myself on his tongue, the way he stopped just before I unraveled. I dress carefully—a soft white cotton dress that buttons down the front, thin enough that the outline of my nipples shows when the light hits right, and nothing underneath. No bra, no panties. I want him to know I’m ready.He texts mid-morning: Guest house porch. Bring your laptop.I walk the short path through the backyard, barefoot, the grass cool and damp under my feet. The guest house is small but private—a living room that doubles as his office, a bedroom in the back, kitchenette. The porch overlooks the woods, screened for privacy.He’s waiting in a wicker chair, his laptop on the table, coffee steaming beside him. He
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