Sera knew better.She’d been raised on hymns and sermons, clothed in purity and praise. Her father was the town’s most respected preacher, and she, the perfect daughter, was expected to reflect that image in every breath she took.But perfection never excited her.It was a sin that stirred her blood.She sat alone in the candlelit chapel at midnight, the stone floor cold beneath her knees, the scent of incense curling through the air like temptation.She came here often not to pray.To confess.Her own way.To feel something dangerous in the only place she was never allowed to touch herself.But tonight felt different.He was there.The man in the booth.He wasn’t Father Caldwell, she could tell. Caldwell’s voice was brittle and old.This one was young.Richer. Calmer.Sinful.“Bless me, Father, for I have sinned,” she whispered, voice trembling.“It has been how long since your last confession?”She smiled.“Ten hours.”A pause.“I see.”Sera leaned forward, eyes fluttering shut.“I
Miles thought working at the university library would be quiet.His new internship promised hours of sorting dusty archives and shelving books, perfect for someone who preferred silence over socializing. His supervisor, Miss Carroway, seemed the perfect embodiment of that silence.She was always in fitted turtlenecks, pencil skirts, thick-rimmed glasses, and low heeled shoes. Stern. Professional. Maybe early forties, maybe older. Sharp eyes, tighter lips.And she never smiled.Until Thursday night.The library was nearly empty.Only a few grad students whispered in corners. Rain tapped at the arched windows. Miles was shelving books in the restricted reference section when he heard itA low, deliberate cough.He turned.Miss Carroway stood at the end of the row, her glasses lowered slightly as she studied him.“You organize alphabetically?” she asked.“Yes, ma’am.”“Come with me.”She turned without another word, heels clicking against the polished floors.He followed.Not to her offi
Naomi was invisible in real life. She liked it that way. Classes, campus, coffee shop she existed in the background. She wore oversized sweaters, headphones tucked in, and her hair in a messy bun. Few people knew her name. Even fewer remembered her face. But online. She was someone else entirely. Behind her locked door, curtains drawn and fairy lights glowing, Naomi transformed into her alter ego: VioletNoir, a cam girl who wore nothing but lace and desire, watched by strangers who worshipped her every movement. She never showed her face. Only her body. And her voice. Breathy, teasing, always in control. Every tip, every private request, fueled her secret hunger. It wasn’t about money it was about power. Being desired. Being seen. Until one night, she received a private message that chilled her. Nice bookshelf, Naomi. She froze. The bookshelf was behind her visible in her streams, yes, but it was from a cheap local store. The second message came seconds later: Chem 20
Zara was never supposed to walk that floor.Her assignment was simple: rotate security every two hours, cover the lower ten levels, and never question the protocols around Floor 21.“Private tenant,” her supervisor had warned. “No calls. No keys. No interference.”But the rules didn’t stop curiosity.And Zara had always been curious.That night, as she leaned against the security desk, the quiet hum of the city outside made her thoughts wander.She closed her eyes for a moment.And imagined.The elevator button for Floor 21 lit up under her fingertips.Her pulse raced as the car rose. She imagined herself stepping onto a carpeted hallway lined with mirrored panels and rich silence.She passed the suite 21B.Suddenly, her radio crackled.“Curious, aren’t we?”A man’s voice. Rich. Low. Amused.She turned, imagining the door unlocking.“Come in, Zara.”She stepped into her own fantasy.The suite was dim and sensual. Moonlight poured in through the floor to ceiling windows. There he stood
Mia had always flirted with danger, but nothing compared to Nathan.Her best friend’s older brother.Six years older. Six inches taller. All tattoos and trouble, freshly moved back into town after a stint overseas.She hadn’t seen him since high school. But when she walked into Eliza’s house for family dinner and saw him at the head of the table in a black button-up, she almost dropped the pie.Nathan smirked the second their eyes met.And never looked away.He had this aura like heat simmering beneath his calm. Like he knew exactly how bad she wanted him and exactly how far she’d let him go.And tonight, Mia wanted to find out just how far that was.Dinner was normal on the surface.Roast chicken. Wine. Eliza chattering about work. Their mom sharing vacation plans. Her dad is talking politics.But under the table?Nathan’s knee pressed against hers. Firm. Deliberate.Her breath hitched. He didn’t move.When she didn’t pull away, his hand slid onto her thigh.Slow. Teasing.She tried
It started with a laugh.Kelsey had been wandering down the hallway in nothing but an oversized T-shirt and cheeky panties when she spotted him. Blake curled up on the couch, headset on, controller in hand, deep in a game.Her father’s best friend.Twice her age. Recently divorced. Muscles in all the right places. A voice so smooth it melted her spine.He was supposed to crash for a few nights while moving out of his ex’s place.But three weeks later, he was still on the couch. And she was still watching him.Every night.From the stairs. From the shadows.Sometimes crouched behind the kitchen island, hand slowly slipping beneath her panties while he growled into his mic about domination, tactics, and submission.She imagined his hands on her. His deep voice in her ear.One night, she decided to make it real.She padded into the living room barefoot.It was nearly midnight. Her T-shirt hit mid-thigh, barely hiding the lacy black panties underneath.He glanced over his shoulder and rai