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Velvet Schemes & Trench Coat Dreams
Last Updated:
2025-06-07 23:54:52
Latest chapter
Reclaiming Aria The Night He Found Heaven
His lips started at her throat, dragging down with maddening care—pressing kisses like vows into every inch of her skin. The hollow of her collarbone. The curve of her breast. The trembling rise of her stomach. He didn’t rush. No, baby, Kade was a man on a mission. And his mission was devotion. He looked up at her from between her thighs, voice low and ragged. “Look at me, Aria.” Her eyes met his—and she swore her soul caught fire. “I want you to remember this. Every time you close your eyes. Every fucking time someone says my name.” She whimpered his name like a prayer. He kissed just above the lace of her panties, teeth grazing her skin. Hands sliding up her thighs slow enough to drive her out of her mind. He untied those dainty little bows like he was unwrapping a secret made just for him. “Prettiest damn thing I’ve ever seen,” he muttered, eyes wild, reverent. And then he tasted her. One slow, deep lick—and she arched off the bed like she’d been struck by light
Reclaiming Aria The Trench Coat Theory
The cab ride was a slow-burn dream. City lights streaked by in a blur of gold and violet, soft rain tapping against the windows, the inside of the cab a quiet cocoon of heat and heartbeat. Aria sat beside him, her trench coat closed tight, her thigh pressed against his like it belonged there. Every bump in the road sent a spark between them. She was quiet, biting her lip, fingertips trailing absent-minded circles over the back of his hand. Kade didn’t rush her. Didn’t push. He just kept stealing glances—like he couldn’t believe she was real. “Was the restaurant what you expected?” he asked, his voice low, rough, already threaded with want. She nodded slowly. “More than I expected.” Kade’s lips twitched. “You haven’t seen anything yet.” ⸻ The Hotel It was just outside of the city, tucked between hills and forest, cloaked in soft fog and elegance. A restored estate turned boutique inn—intimate and rich with deep wood, soft lighting, and staff that spoke in hushed, respectful to
Reclaiming Aria The Trenchcoat Temptress
The hallway of the hotel smells like expensive soap and temptation. Inside Sloane’s room? Absolute chaos. “Sit down,” Sloane demands, spinning Aria toward the vanity like a general preparing her soldier for war. “Tonight? You’re not a librarian. You’re a goddamn weapon.” She yanks the flat iron through Aria’s thick dark hair, one slow pull after the other until it hangs like black silk down her back—sharp, gleaming, flawless. It falls around her shoulders like a blade in waiting. Bone straight. Ruthless. Sloane steps back, arms crossed, eyes gleaming. “Hair? Check. Face? Check. Confidence?” She raises a brow. Aria swallows, nerves twisting tight in her belly. “Pending.” Sloane tosses her a wicked smile. “Not for long.” They move to the bed where the trench coat lays—pressed and perfect. Aria shrugs it on, the satin lining cool against her bare skin. Underneath? The sheer black teddy they picked two days ago. High cut at the hips. Deep plunge at the chest. She’s not even wearing
Reclaiming Aria Reins and Restraint
The sun’s barely crested over Calloway Hollow, stretching golden fingers over the fields like it’s got nowhere better to be. But Kade? He’s been up since before dawn, and every second without her is like barbed wire under his skin. He’s working Apollo in the pen again—young colt, high energy, sharp as hell—but Kade’s head isn’t in it. Not really. Not since he kissed Aria on that porch like he was drowning and she was the last breath of air left on Earth. He hasn’t stopped thinking about it. About her. That f*cking kiss broke something wide open inside him. Sweat clings to his neck. He yanks off his hat and runs a hand through his hair, letting the colt settle. His breath’s ragged, but not from the work. “Dude,” a voice pipes up behind him, and Kade turns to see Ty, one of the younger ranch hands. Barely twenty, cocky as hell, and always looking like he’s one sentence away from getting smacked. Ty leans against the fence, arms crossed, smirking like he knows something he sh
Reclaiming Aria Velvet Schemes & Trench Coat Dreams
The next morning, the knock at the door is more command than request—sharp, relentless, and too damn early for anything innocent. Aria stumbles to the front, still wrapped in a fuzzy robe, one eye open, the other begging for five more minutes. She pulls the door open with a yawn mid-bloom—and is immediately greeted by Sloane standing there like the devil in Lululemon. One hand holds an iced chai, condensation dripping down the plastic like temptation. The other? A steaming black coffee and a single raised brow. “Rise and slut up, sweetheart,” Sloane purrs, pushing past her with zero shame. “We’ve got work to do—and by work, I mean making sure Calloway forgets how to f*cking breathe.” Aria blinks. “What—what time is it? Why are you like this?” “It’s slut o’clock and I’m like this because God gave me taste, audacity, and a best friend who needs a sexual revolution.” Aria groans, but she’s already sipping the coffee and dragging her feet toward the hallway. Sloane’s energy is buzzi
Reclaiming Aria Whispers, Winks, and Trouble Brewing
The moment the screen door clicked shut behind her, Sloane bumped Aria’s hip with hers. Then she did it. That signal. A quick double flick of her fingers at her ear, followed by a scratch at her temple—the same ridiculous move they’d used in high school anytime someone’s parent was within earshot and they needed to have a real conversation. Aria snorted, biting back a smile. “Subtle.” “Always,” Sloane grinned. They grabbed their bags from the bench by the door—Aria’s tote spilling receipts and planner notes, Sloane’s slouchy purse half open with some kind of candy wrapper poking out—and they headed down the hallway. They’d barely made it two steps past the hallway before Sloane spun on her heel, pointing toward Aria’s bedroom with the urgency of a woman on a mission. Sloane gave one last glance over her shoulder to make sure Harold was out of earshot. Then she whispered, “Alright, spill the good shit. Every last filthy detail.” “Let’s go,” she demanded. “I didn’t haul my ass
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