LOGINBehind me, I heard Slick unzipping his jeans, but my focus stayed on Carrie. Her fingers trailed down my curves, tracing my hips before slipping between my thighs. I gasped sharply as she rubbed me through the thin fabric of my panties, her touch teasing, skilled, and full of intent.“You really are as beautiful as he said,” she murmured, her breath hot against my ear, sending shivers down my spine. “No wonder he talks about you so much.”I barely had time to respond before she hooked her fingers under the lace and slid my panties down, leaving me completely exposed. Her hand returned, fingers gliding directly over my slick folds. I whimpered as she slipped two fingers inside me, curling them perfectly against that sensitive spot.“Fuck,” I breathed, my hips rocking instinctively against her hand, chasing the building pleasure.She worked me expertly, her free hand caressing my breast. Out of the corner of my eye, I caught Slick stroking his hard cock slowly, his gaze locked on us wit
The call came as Laura and I were splitting a plate of warm truffle fries at our favorite little bistro downtown. The golden fries, crispy on the outside and perfectly seasoned, were one of the small luxuries we allowed ourselves between jobs. My phone buzzed insistently on the wooden table, vibrating against the half-empty glasses of iced tea. I hesitated, not wanting to shatter the rare peaceful moment with Laura. But she gave me that knowing look and nodded toward the phone. “Answer it, babe. Money always comes first in our world.”When I saw Slick’s name flashing across the screen, my heart skipped a beat. Slick wasn’t just another customer. Over time, we’d built something deeper—a genuine bond that felt rare in this line of work. Sure, he was a drug kingpin with more enemies than friends, navigating a dangerous world of deals, loyalty, and betrayal. But he treated me with real respect. He remembered the little things: my favorite flowers, the stories I told about my rough days, a
Laura climbed onto the bed first, her movements smooth and confident, like she belonged under those lights. I followed, feeling the weight of the cameras on us as I settled beside her. She turned to me, her bright eyes locking onto mine with tenderness and heat. Without another word, she leaned in and kissed me deeply.Her lips were soft and familiar, instantly calming the anxious coil in my chest. I melted into it, my hands finding her waist and pulling her closer as the kiss grew more passionate. Rob picked up a handheld camera, moving in for a tight close-up. The knowledge that every detail was being captured sent a fresh rush through me.Laura slipped out of her dress with effortless grace, letting her bra and panties fall to the floor. I eagerly leaned down, taking one of her nipples into my mouth, sucking gently at first, then with more hunger, while looking up toward the camera with a seductive gaze I hoped would match the moment. I could hear Rob’s breathing grow heavier behin
The bar was dimly lit, the kind of place where secrets felt safe behind heavy velvet curtains and the low, smoky hum of jazz music drifting from a corner stage. Soft golden light from antique chandeliers danced across polished wood and crystal glasses, casting long shadows that hid more than they revealed. Laura’s arm brushed against mine as we stepped inside, her blonde hair catching the glow like strands of sunlight in the dark. We made quite the pair—me, Brandi Moore, with my warm tan skin, long dark waves cascading down my back, and hazel eyes that had witnessed far too much of life’s rough edges, and her, Laura, all golden skin and carefree confidence, as if the world hadn’t yet taught her its cruel lessons.Sam had dropped us off barely an hour earlier, his usual gruff voice still echoing in our heads like a warning: “Make it worth my while, girls. Don’t come back empty-handed.” He didn’t need to repeat himself. We both knew the stakes. The money wasn’t just for him—it was rent,
Camille was stretched out on the couch, the low drone of the TV the only sound in the otherwise quiet living room. She checked the clock again for what felt like the hundredth time that evening. Jackson was late. Again. She let out a long sigh and swirled the red wine around in her glass, trying to ignore the annoyance building up inside her chest. He’s probably just stuck at work, she kept telling herself, but the excuse wasn’t doing much to calm the restless energy she felt.The sudden click of the front door unlocking snapped her out of her thoughts.“Finally,” she muttered under her breath, putting the glass down on the table. But when the door swung open, the words died in her throat.There was Jackson, wearing that same charming grin he always had, but he wasn’t alone this time. Standing right beside him was a woman — tall, with long dark hair that fell over her shoulders and big almond-shaped eyes that seemed to hold all kinds of secrets Camille suddenly wanted to know everythi
Nettie straightened the collar of her crisp white blouse and ran her hands down her tight black skirt. Her fingers shook just a little as she scanned the busy upscale dining room. The place was full of the usual noise — clinking forks, knives, and quiet conversations from wealthy customers. She was used to waiting on rich people, but something about tonight felt off. The air crackled with a strange energy she couldn’t quite figure out.When the couple entered, every head in the room turned. The man was tall with broad shoulders, and his expensive suit fit him like it was made for his body. His wife looked classy and confident in a shimmering emerald green dress that caught the light with every step. Nettie walked up to their table with her standard professional smile fixed on her face.“Good evening. My name is Nettie, and I’ll be your server tonight,” she said. Her voice stayed steady even though her stomach was doing flips.The man looked straight at her with sharp blue eyes. “Netti
If you called her a cougar or whatever hot-to-trot name the kids had come up with these days, Marie was liable to curse you out. She was anything but anybody’s cradle robber. Marie was simply Marie, an older woman who happened to be married to a younger man, and who happened to still have the goods
It couldn’t be. I studied the cover more closely. It absolutely, definitely was him. Those eyes, high cheekbones, broad shoulders. OK, I’d seen him fully clothed and on the cover of His Best Performance he wore only a pair of swimming trunks – tiny, tight, yellow – but I recognised him beyond doubt.
I glanced up from my crossword puzzle as the bell above the shop door tinkled. A man, broad shoulders, bright white smile and wearing black wraparound shades, strode into the warren of dusty shelves and cabinets. He moved with purpose, the material of his jeans hugging the tops of his long thighs an
She was watching him towel off, fresh out of a hot shower. Marie’s eyes travelled the length of his white body, taking in his curly pale hair, blue eyes, thin pink lips. She always lingered on her favourite parts of him, his thick, firm fingers, his long, curved cock. Then Gavin’s eyes began to li







