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Guarding… or Fucking The Heir? (MM)
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2026-11-10 18:02:16
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Thirty Dark Nights. Guarding… or Fucking The Heir? MM 3
EliasI didn’t sleep.I stood there against the wall until my legs stopped shaking, then kicked the trousers the rest of the way off and walked to the bathroom on unsteady feet. The mirror showed the mess he’d left: flushed skin, bite mark already darkening on the side of my throat where his mouth had dragged, cum still sliding slow down the inside of my thigh. I reached for a towel. Stopped. His order was still in my head—keep it.I turned the shower on anyway, hot, and stepped under it. The water hit the ache in my ass and made me hiss. I washed everything except that. Left it. When I dried off I could still feel the slick when I moved. I pulled on a clean pair of briefs and a T-shirt and got into bed with it still inside me, cooling, proof.Somewhere past two the corridor went quiet. I heard the soft shift of weight outside my door—Vance settling into the chair he always used when he stayed on night detail. I stared at the ceiling and didn’t touch myself. Just lay there and felt it
Thirty Dark Nights. Guarding… or Fucking The Heir? (MM) 2
Elias I walked back into the ballroom with my cuffs straight and my expression blank, exactly as I’d left the study. Vance fell into position three steps behind me without a word. The orchestra swelled. My father was already at the head table, glass raised, waiting. I took my place at his right. The toast began. My father’s voice rolled over the room—legacy, blood, the future of the name—but I barely heard it. All I could feel was the faint, lingering pressure of Vance’s thumb under my ear from earlier, and the way my cock still sat heavy against my thigh from the way he’d gripped me in the study. Every time I shifted my weight, the ache reminded me. I kept my hands clasped in front of me, shoulders relaxed, smile polite. Perfect heir. Untouchable. Behind me, Vance didn’t move. I could feel the weight of his attention anyway, steady and unblinking, like he was counting every second until the last glass was emptied. The toast ended. Applause. My father turned to me, clapped a hand
Thirty Dark Nights. Guarding… or Fucking The Heir? (MM)
Elias The ballroom reeked of money and perfume. Crystal chandeliers threw light across the marble, and every head turned when I entered with my father at my side. I kept my posture perfect, shoulders back, mouth soft in the polite half-smile they’d drilled into me since I was twelve. The heir. Untouchable. Valuable. Behind me, three steps back and slightly to the left, stood the new bodyguard. Vance. Former special forces. Hired because the last two attempts on my life had gotten too close. He didn’t smile. He didn’t fidget. He just watched the room like he was already calculating how many men he’d have to put down to get me out alive. I felt him more than I saw him. The heat of his body at my back. The low, steady sound of his breathing. Every time someone reached to shake my hand, his palm settled on the small of my spine for half a second—professional, guiding, gone again before anyone could notice. Except I noticed. Every time. Halfway through the receiving line, a cousin from
Thirty Dark Nights. I Let My Stepbrother and His Friends Fuck Me While I Slept-3
Riley. They left the door open when they finally went downstairs. I stayed exactly where they put me. Face turned into the pillow, hips still slightly raised, thighs sticky and parted. Cum cooled on my back in thick, drying streaks. More of it clung to my hair, matted against my cheek and neck. It coated my tits, heavy and warm where it had landed across my nipples. Between my legs I was wrecked—open, swollen, leaking. Every small shift of my body made more of them spill out of me in slow, warm drips that slid down my thighs and soaked into the already ruined sheet. My cunt throbbed with a deep, used ache. I could still feel the shape of every cock that had been inside me, especially Cade’s. The music came back on downstairs. Their voices moved farther away, laughing, bottles clinking. I waited, heart still racing, until I was sure no one was coming back up right away. Only then did I open my eyes. The hallway light cut across the floor in a thin line. My legs trembled when I trie
Thirty Dark Nights. I Let My Stepbrother and His Friends Fuck Me While I Slept-2
Riley. Hands everywhere. One big palm covered my left tit and squeezed, rough and hot. Another rolled my right nipple between two fingers until it ached. A third slid down my stomach, slow, then lower, until thick fingers found how wet I already was. “Fuck, she’s soaked,” someone whispered. A quiet laugh. “Cade, she’s dripping all over your fingers.” Cade’s voice was right next to my ear. Low. Calm. Like he was explaining something ordinary. “She gets like this when she’s touched right. Spread her more.” His hands moved to my thighs. He pushed them wider, opening me up for the others. Cool air hit my cunt. I felt how swollen I was, how my lips parted, how the wetness slid down toward the sheet. A finger pushed in. Thick. One of the other guys. It sank deep, easy because I was so wet, then curled. I had to lock every muscle in my stomach to keep from clenching around it. My breath stayed slow. Even. Eyes shut. “Tight,” the guy muttered. He pulled out and pushed back in, deeper.
Thirty Dark Nights. I LET MY STEPBROTHER AND HIS FRIENDS FUCK ME WHILE I SLEPT.
Riley. I killed the engine in the driveway and sat there for a second with my hands still on the wheel. The house was supposed to be empty. Mom and Dad were in the Bahamas until Monday. I had texted my stepbrother this morning that I was staying on campus another night. Plans changed. Music thumped low through the walls. Bass, not the usual playlist he put on when he was alone. I grabbed my bag, locked the car, and let myself in the front door as quietly as I could. The living room was open. Half the football team filled it. Big bodies on the couches, on the floor, one of them shirtless with his jeans half-unzipped like he’d gotten hot and just stopped caring. Bottles and cans everywhere. The air smelled like beer and sweat and cologne. My stepbrother, Cade, was in the middle of them, leaning back in the armchair with his legs spread. He looked up the second the door clicked shut. His eyes dragged over me—hoodie, shorts, the bag over my shoulder—then flicked back to the guys li
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