Se connecterJace didn’t wait for permission a second time.He closed the distance in two steps, one hand sliding into my hair, the other settling low on my hip like he’d already decided it belonged there. His mouth found mine—hot, deliberate, nothing like the hurried kisses Marcus and I had been trading for months. I made a small sound against his tongue and felt him smile into it.Marcus stayed by the door. I could feel his eyes on us the entire time.Jace walked me backward until my shoulders hit the wall. He broke the kiss only long enough to look down at the black lace, the garter straps, the way the thong was already soaked through. “Fuck,” he muttered, almost to himself. Then his hands were everywhere—cupping my breasts through the thin cups, thumbs dragging over my nipples until they peaked hard, sliding down to grip my ass and pull me against the solid length of him.I could feel how hard he was. Thick. Already straining against his jeans.“Bedroom,” Marcus said, voice rough. “I want to s
I woke up still wet.The black lace was twisted around my hips from where I’d finally shoved two fingers inside myself in the dark, biting the pillow so Marcus wouldn’t hear me come to the thought of his best friend’s cock. My thighs were sticky. The garter belt had left red marks. I peeled everything off in the shower and stood under scalding water until my skin burned, trying to wash the memory of last night out of me.It didn’t work.Marcus was already in the kitchen when I came downstairs in an old T-shirt and nothing else. He looked like he hadn’t slept. Coffee in one hand, the other braced on the counter like he was holding himself upright. The second he saw me his eyes dropped to my bare legs and stayed there a second too long.“Morning,” he said, voice rough.I poured coffee without answering. The silence stretched until it hurt.He set his mug down. “I meant every word.”I turned. He was watching me the way he used to—hungry, focused, like I was the only thing in the room tha
I was still wearing the lingerie when the front door finally opened.The black lace set I’d bought three weeks ago sat against my skin like a joke. The matching garter belt dug into my hips. I’d left the candles burning until the wax pooled on the dining table. The steak had gone cold hours ago. The bottle of wine I’d opened at seven was almost empty by the time the clock passed midnight.I didn’t bother turning on the lights when Marcus walked in.He stopped in the doorway, keys still in his hand, and stared at me sitting at the table in the dark. His tie was loose. His shirt looked wrinkled. He smelled like the office and whatever late meeting he’d claimed was more important than our anniversary.“Elena—”“Don’t.” My voice came out quieter than I expected. “Just don’t.”He set his bag down carefully, like the wrong sound might break whatever was left between us. “I know I fucked up. Work ran late and then the client—”“Our anniversary.”The silence stretched. He dragged a hand over
Three days later the text came at 11:17 p.m.One line. An address I didn’t recognize. A time: now.I was already reaching for my keys before I finished reading it.The place turned out to be a quiet side-street apartment building near campus, the kind faculty sometimes kept for late work or quieter nights. The outer door was unlocked. His door was ajar. I stepped inside and locked it behind me the way I had learned to.Professor Hale stood by the window with his back to me, sleeves rolled, a glass of something dark in his hand. The only light came from a single lamp. When he turned, his expression was the same calm, absolute one he had worn the night he first locked his office door.“You came faster,” he said.“You told me to.”He set the glass down and walked toward me. This time he didn’t undress me immediately. He simply stopped close enough that I could feel the heat of him and studied my face the way he used to study a problematic paragraph.“Liam came by the house this afternoon
The side door opened without a sound.I stepped into a narrow mudroom that smelled faintly of cedar and the same expensive cologne that had been on his skin two nights ago. The house was quiet. Late afternoon light filtered through the kitchen windows beyond. I closed the door behind me and locked it the way he had locked his office—soft, final.Professor Hale was already there, leaning against the kitchen island in a dark sweater and jeans, sleeves pushed up. No tie. No academic armor. Just the man who had fucked me over his desk and then calmly threatened to destroy what was left of my relationship with his son if I didn’t show up.He looked at the clock on the wall.“Five twenty-eight. Better.”I didn’t answer. My hands were in my pockets so he wouldn’t see them shaking.He pushed off the island and walked toward me. When he reached me he didn’t kiss me or touch my face. He simply took my jacket by the collar, peeled it off, and hung it on a hook as if I were a guest who had arrive
I didn’t sleep.Every time I closed my eyes I felt him again—the stretch, the controlled thrust, the heat of him emptying inside me while his hand stayed locked around my cock like he owned the orgasm. By morning the come had dried sticky on my thighs. I showered twice. It didn’t help. The bruises on my hips from his fingers were already darkening, five perfect points on each side that looked exactly like a claim.Thursday arrived too fast.I almost skipped class. The thought of sitting in that lecture hall and looking at the same man who had fucked me open on his desk two nights ago made my stomach twist with something that wasn’t only dread. But the idea of him noticing my absence—and deciding what that absence meant—was worse.I took a seat in the back row.Professor Hale walked in at exactly 10:00, sleeves rolled, shirt crisp, the same silver at his temples catching the overhead lights. He set his notes down, scanned the room once, and his gaze landed on me for half a second longe
The heavy click of the front door locking echoed through the massive mansion like a gunshot in the silence.Lila stood frozen in the kitchen, her heart hammering so violently she could feel it in her throat. Damien was gone. Really gone. The house felt emptier than ever, yet somehow more dangerous.
Lila lay in Damien’s arms for only a few blissful, terrifying seconds before reality crashed over her like ice water. What have I done?The taste of her own arousal still lingered on her lips from his kiss. Her thighs were sticky, her pussy still throbbing from the most intense pleasure she had eve
He kissed her neck, open-mouthed and hot, sucking lightly on her pulse point. Lila’s knees weakened. She clutched his shoulders for support, feeling the hard muscle beneath her fingers."Tell me to stop," he challenged, even as his hand slid down her waist to grip her full hip. "Tell me you don’t w
Lila Harper had always been the good girl.At nineteen, she still blushed at the mere mention of anything intimate. Raised by a single mother who drilled modesty and purity into her, Lila had never touched herself, never watched anything forbidden, and certainly never imagined the things that happe







