MasukRiley wiped the dust off her camera lens for the third time in ten minutes and cursed under her breath. The rental car had kicked up half the county road on the way in, and now her black jeans and tank top already looked like she’d rolled in the dirt. She was supposed to be shooting a quick feature on “modern family farms.” Two days, in and out. Instead she was standing in front of Caleb Hart’s place with her bag at her feet and zero cell service. The farmhouse was old but solid--white paint faded by sun, wraparound porch sagging a little on one end. Fields stretched out forever behind it, golden wheat swaying under the late afternoon sky. A big, broad-shouldered man came out of the barn, wiping his hands on a rag. Jeans worn at the knees, flannel sleeves rolled up, ball cap pulled low. Even from a distance she could see the muscle earned from real work, not a gym. “Caleb Hart?” she called. He stopped, looked her over slow. “You the photographer lady from the city.” Not a questio
The last full night hit different. Mom and Dad decided to throw a little goodbye party on the deck—invited the neighbors from down the beach, fired up the grill again, put out snacks and a couple bottles of cheap champagne. Music played low from Dad’s phone speaker, some old beach rock shit. String lights twinkled overhead, and the ocean crashed steady in the background like it had the whole week. Riley wore this short white sundress that made her legs look endless. Thin straps, no bra for me,I knew, and I knew from a quick bathroom grab earlier she had nothing on underneath. Every time she moved I could see the outline of her nipples through the fabric. She caught me staring across the deck and gave me that smirk, the one that said she knew exactly what she was doing. The parents were in full social mode, laughing with the neighbors, refilling drinks, talking about how this vacation had been “just what we all needed.” If only they knew how much Riley and I had needed it too. In
The next couple days turned into this constant tightrope walk of sneaking around while trying to act normal. The pool day had cracked something open between us, and now we were both starving for more. Every glance across the room felt like foreplay. Every accidental brush in the hallway made my skin burn. The parents were clueless, wrapped up in their own romantic getaway bullshit, but the risk of getting caught made everything ten times hotter. And ten times scarier. The morning after the pool, Mom and Dad headed out for one of their long beach walks with a picnic basket and a bottle of wine. “You two behave yourselves,” Mom said with a wink as they left. If only she knew. The second their figures left, down the sandy path, Riley grabbed my hand and pulled me toward the outdoor shower off the deck. “Come on. Before they change their minds and come back.” The stall was nothing fancy, just weathered wood planks, a slatted door that didn’t latch right, and a big rainfall showerh
The next morning the parents announced their big winery tour like it was the highlight of the whole vacation. Dad had booked some fancy tasting package with lunch and everything. “You kids okay holding down the fort?” Mom asked, already grabbing her big sun hat and tote bag. “Yeah, we’ll be fine,” I said, trying not to sound too eager. Riley was leaning against the kitchen counter in a loose tank and sleep shorts, sipping coffee. She gave a little shrug and a half-smile. “We’ll find something to do.” The second their rental car disappeared down the driveway, the house felt different, like the air itself knew what was coming. Riley set her mug down and looked at me across the kitchen island. “So… what now?” I crossed the space between us in three steps, grabbed her by the waist, and kissed her hard. No almost this time. No interruption. She melted into it immediately, hands fisting in my t-shirt, tongue sliding against mine. We bumped into the counter, knocking a spoon onto t
The storm rolled in on day four like it had been waiting for us. By late afternoon the sky turned that ugly greenish-gray, wind whipping the palm trees around the house like they owed it money. Rain started hammering the roof right after dinner—thick sheets that made the windows rattle. The power flickered once, twice, then died completely with a loud pop somewhere outside. “Great,” Dad muttered, digging out flashlights from a kitchen drawer. “Guess we’re roughing it tonight.” Mom laughed it off, already a little buzzed from the wine they’d had with the pasta. “Adventure, right? We’ll light some candles and play cards or something.” They grabbed a couple of flashlights and a bottle of whiskey and went upstairs to the master bedroom pretty early. “Don’t stay up too late, you two,” Mom called down the stairs. Yeah. Sure. Riley and I ended up in the little game room off the living room. It had an old couch, a beat-up pool table, and some board games on a shelf. We dragged in a
The next morning was like a hangover even though I hadn’t drunk anything. Sun was already beating down by nine, turning the beach house into an oven. Mom and Dad were up early, packing a cooler like they were going on some expedition. Riley shuffled into the kitchen in a big t-shirt and tiny sleep shorts, yawning, hair all tangled. She caught me staring at her legs and raised an eyebrow but didn’t say shit about last night. Good. Neither did I. We loaded up and headed down to the beach. The sand was hot enough to burn your feet if you stood still too long. Dad immediately started dragging out beach umbrellas and chairs like he was building a fort. Mom slathered on sunscreen and disappeared under a big hat with her book. Riley dropped her towel a few feet from mine and peeled off her cover-up. Red bikini. That was all I could think. Tiny red triangles that barely held her tits in place, strings tied at the hips that looked like one tug would undo everything. She stretched out
Raven Torres was still fighting. Two days in this shithole and she hadn’t broken yet. The other girls kept their heads down, but not her. Tattoos covering her arms and ribs, pierced nipples hard against the thin gray tank top they made her wear, short black hair messy from struggling. She was a
Adriana Locke stumbled out of the van with her wrists cuffed behind her back. The expensive black pencil skirt was wrinkled to shit, her white blouse half unbuttoned from the rough ride. Long dark hair stuck to her sweaty neck. She looked exactly like what she was, a high-powered lawyer who just
The reception hall was still buzzing with laughter and clinking glasses when the doors burst open. *Gunshots The shots sound were louder than they do in the movies--sharp, deliberate pops that sent everyone diving for the floor. Sophia Laurent screamed as rough hands grabbed her from behind, yan
The branding iron was already red-hot when Damien dragged her into the back of the barn that morning. Mia was locked in the heavy stocks, neck and wrists trapped, her ass jacked way up high on a wooden block so everything was open and ready. That monster tail plug—the thickest one yet—stretched h







