LOGINRoman had been in her apartment for less than twenty-four hours and Ava was already ready to kill him.He woke up at five the next morning. She could hear him moving through the quiet spaces of her home—the soft thud of bare feet on hardwood, the low hum of the coffee machine, the controlled rhythm of push-ups in the living room like he was still somewhere far more disciplined than a designer loft in the city. By the time she dragged herself out of bed at nine, hair a mess and eyes half-closed, he was already showered, dressed in black from head to toe, and sitting at her kitchen island with a laptop open, reviewing something she didn’t care to understand.“You’re in my seat,” she muttered, reaching past him for a mug.Roman didn’t look up. “You have four stools.”“That’s the one with the best view.”He finally glanced at her, eyes flicking briefly over her sleep shorts and the oversized band tee that barely covered the tops of her thighs before returning to the
Ava Rivers stared at the latest message on her phone until the words blurred.Unknown: You think you’re untouchable? Keep posting that perfect life. I’ll ruin it.Her stomach twisted hard enough that she almost felt sick. This was the third threat in two weeks. The first ones had been easy to dismiss—jealous comments, bitter emoji chains, the usual noise that came with having a following. This one felt different. Quieter. More personal. Like whoever was behind it already knew exactly where to press.She locked the screen and tossed the phone onto the couch, dragging both hands through her long dark hair. The apartment felt suddenly too quiet, the late-afternoon light slanting across the polished floors and the carefully styled living room she used for content. Everything looked perfect. Controlled. Safe. The message made it all feel like paper.Her phone rang almost immediately. Her father’s name flashed across the screen.She answered with a sigh that did nothin
Marcus didn’t stop. Even after my orgasm ripped through me, he kept thrusting deep and steady, his thick cock stretching me open with every powerful stroke. The wet slap of skin on skin and the obscene sound of my soaked pussy taking him filled the quiet guest room. I was still bent over the edge of the bed, nightgown bunched around my waist, panties shoved to the side, face buried in the pillow to muffle my moans. His hands gripped my hips hard, fingers digging into my soft flesh hard enough to leave bruises, pulling me back onto him with every thrust. “Quiet,” he growled low, voice strained with pleasure. “You don’t want your husband waking up to find his brother balls-deep in his wife, do you?” The filthy words only made me wetter. Fresh slickness coated his cock as I pushed back against him desperately, chasing another high. Marcus reached around and rubbed tight, relentless circles on my swollen clit while he pounded into me. “You’re so much tighter than I imagined,” he pant
The day dragged on in agonizing tension. Marcus worked from his laptop at the dining table, but his eyes followed me everywhere. Every time I walked past him, every stretch or casual movement—I felt his stare like a physical touch. He didn’t touch me again that day. He was waiting. Building the anticipation until I was a nervous, aching wreck by the time Ethan came home. Around mid-morning I was in the kitchen making a second cup of coffee when he spoke without looking up from his screen. “You’re restless,” he said quietly. I froze with the mug in my hand. “I’m fine.” Marcus finally glanced over, green eyes sharp. “You’re not fine. You’ve been avoiding looking at me for the last hour.” I set the mug down harder than necessary. “What do you want me to do? Act normal after… last night? and this morning?” A slow, knowing smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth. “I want you to stop pretending you didn’t like it.”
Marcus didn’t stop.Even after my orgasm ripped through me, he kept thrusting deep and steady, his thick cock stretching me open with every powerful stroke. The wet slap of skin on skin and the obscene sound of my soaked pussy taking him filled the quiet guest room. I was still bent over the edge of the bed, nightgown bunched around my waist, panties shoved to the side, face buried in the pillow to muffle my moans.His hands gripped my hips hard, fingers digging into my soft flesh hard enough to leave bruises, pulling me back onto him with every thrust.“Quiet,” he growled low, voice strained with pleasure. “You don’t want your husband waking up to find his brother balls-deep in his wife, do you?”The filthy words only made me wetter. Fresh slickness coated his cock as I pushed back against him desperately, chasing another high. Marcus reached around and rubbed tight, relentless circles on my swollen clit while he pounded into me.“You’re so much tighter than I i
The next morning, guilt sat heavy in my stomach like a stone.I had barely slept. Every time I closed my eyes, the memory returned with brutal clarity—Marcus’s thick fingers stretching me open, the low, filthy rumble of his voice against my ear, the way he had held me in place while I shattered around him. My pussy was still tender and slick from the orgasm he’d forced out of me while my husband slept just across the hall. The faint ache between my legs was a constant, humiliating reminder of how hard I had come… and how little I had resisted.Ethan had pulled me close sometime in the night, his arm draped loosely over my waist, his breathing steady and trusting against the back of my neck. I had laid there frozen, body still humming, mind screaming at me for what I had done. The betrayal sat thick in my throat. This was wrong. So dangerously, unforgivably wrong.But the ache between my legs refused to let me forget how good it had felt.I could barely sleep until, I
~~ Sophia's POV~~ My fingers were already slipping between my thighs before I even turned off the lights. I’m Sophia Vale, twenty-four years old, and right now I feel like a complete mess. Six months ago, my boyfriend of three years packed his bags and left me for someone he said was “less compl
The office had been torture all day. Elena had barely been able to focus on her work. Every time she crossed her legs, she felt the lingering ache from Damien’s fingers the night before. Every time she looked up, she remembered being bent over his desk, his deep voice in her ear calling her his goo
Elena’s knees sank into the thick carpet of Damien’s luxurious office, her heart pounding so hard she could hear it in her ears. She looked up at him, this man who had been the center of her forbidden fantasies for years. Her brother’s best friend. The one person she was never supposed to want. And
Elena Voss stood outside the towering Blackthorn Building, her heart hammering against her ribs. She knew she shouldn’t be here. Out of all the people who could help her family, she had chosen him — Damien Blackthorn, her older brother Ryan’s best friend since college. The man she had secretly lust







