I was still trembling when I came. My thighs quivered, clenching helplessly around Professor Damon’s cock as he emptied inside me, thick and hot. He groaned low in his chest, driving into me one last time, deep, possessive, marking me in every filthy, irreversible way.We stayed there for a moment—my back arched against the desk, his body covering mine, our sweat-slicked skin glued together, breathing ragged. The room was thick with the scent of sex, heat curling in the air even with the hum of the AC.But then—Knock.I jolted. My eyes flew open.Knock. Knock.And then a voice.“Professor Wolfe? Are you in there?”My heart plummeted into my stomach.That voice. That calm, familiar, warm voice.My father.Not just any man. Principal Clarke. Head of the school. Head of my home. And a highly respected pastor of our city's most powerful Catholic church.If he walked in and saw what had just happened-his daughter dripping with sex, the air heavy with sin, my professor still semi-hard from
The door slammed behind me, cutting off the noise of the outside world. I was home. I kicked off my shoes at the door, the click of them landing too loud in the silence. My father’s voice carried from the dining room, warm and inviting, as always.“Ava? Is that you?”I didn’t answer. I straightened my shoulders, took a breath, and walked to the dining room.The table was set, as always. The china gleamed, silverware polished. Everything was perfect. My father, in his crisp white shirt and black trousers, sat at the head, his hands folded in front of him. My mother was already seated, her gaze lifting from her phone as I entered, her smile warm.“Ava, how was your day?” my father asked, his voice as smooth and comforting as ever. The man was a saint in the eyes of the world, a respected figure. He had no idea what had just happened to me. What I'd done. “Fine,” I said, my voice too tight. “Quiet.”“Good,” he replied. “Good. I spoke with Director Johnson earlier. He said you’re doing w
AvaToday, I didn't have Literature, unfortunately, but that didn’t stop me from snooping around outside the class Professor Wolfe was teaching. I’m sure he caught me countless times, the way his gaze darted to the door, his eyebrow arching whenever I dared glance through the window.An hour passed—an eternity—and finally, he emerged from the classroom. I moved quickly, cornering him.“Professor Wolfe,” I said, blocking his path with an innocent smile.His sharp, unreadable gaze flicked to me, waiting. Not a word, just a tilt of his head.I handed him the paper—the one I had deliberately sabotaged two nights ago, full of careless errors and lazy arguments. I knew how bad it was. He would, too.“My essay,” I said, slipping it into his hand. “Wanted to make sure you got it.”He glanced down at the pages, then back at me. “You skipped your scheduled submission slot yesterday.”“I know,” I murmured, offering a sheepish smile. “Wanted to give it to you personally.”His fingers brushed mine
Ava The walk home felt endless and by the time I pushed through the front door, the house was warm and alive with the smell of dinner cooking—roast beef, potatoes, a little gravy, just the way my dad liked it. Normally, the scent would make my mouth water. Tonight, it made my stomach twist. I kicked off my shoes quietly, dropped my bag by the stairs, and wandered into the dining room. My dad was already sitting there, plates set, waiting for me. He looked up immediately, smiling gently. “Hey, kiddo. How was school?” I hesitated, forcing myself to sit across from him. The fork felt heavy in my hand as I toyed with my food without realizing it. It didn’t take long for him to notice. The way his smile dimmed. The way he watched me, his brow creasing just slightly with concern. “You’re awfully quiet tonight, Ava,” he said softly. His voice had that careful tone, the one he used when he didn’t want to push but couldn’t help worrying. I pressed my lips together, the wor
It didn’t take long for my dad to fall asleep. His arms were tucked comfortably behind his head as he snored softly on his favorite couch, his right hand still stubbornly gripping the remote.I turned my gaze to Professor Wolfe—and caught him already looking at me. His heated stare dragged across my face, igniting something hot and reckless between us. I knew, at that exact moment, that we were thinking the same thing.Dad had just passed out, and Mom wouldn’t be back until tomorrow.And my dad?He was the heaviest sleeper known to man.I couldn’t even count the number of times my mom had complained about how nothing—not alarms, not storms, not even me and my brother roughhousing—could wake him up.The tension in the room tightened, pulling me back to the present when Professor Wolfe’s cold hands gripped my thighs. A sharp jolt of erotic electricity shot through my body, making me gasp.I looked down—and there he was.Kneeling between my legs.His fiery brown eyes locked onto mine wit
Professor WolfeI used to run things—command respect through fear, take what I wanted, and burn anything that got in my way. I had no problem taking what I wanted, and no one dared challenge me. Gang leader. Ruthless. Cold. I built an empire on the backs of others, and I burned bridges in ways that could never be undone.But that was before.Then I turned my back on that life and became a lecturer—before I buried my demons under the guise of an ordinary man, trying to pretend my past didn’t exist. No one knew what I’d done, what I’d been.Then it all came crashing down. One fucking lie. One accusation that cost me everything.They framed me—shit, I can’t even say it without wanting to smash something. They said I raped her. A minor. A student. Said I touched her, ruined her, broke her. I never laid a hand on the lad. Not once. Bianca was just a student from the school where I used to teach—bright, kind, and wise beyond her years. When I agreed to tutor her, both during school hours a
NinaThe thought of getting pregnant had always been the surface of my deepest desires—dark, raw, and unrelenting. Seeing women with swollen bellies, their bodies transformed by passion and creation, sent heat rippling through me. I knew exactly what they did to be in that state, and the idea always made my breath hitch and my body ache.It started when I was 21, a craving I had to suppress through years of university and endless work shifts. But even as life piled responsibilities onto my shoulders, that need never left. It clung to me, lurking in the corners of my mind. Nine years later, despite my chaotic schedule, that fantasy only grew more vivid.Late at night, I'd come home exhausted but restless, slipping beneath my sheets with sinful thoughts swirling in my head. I'd imagine strong hands gripping my hips, my body sweaty and my inside filled to the brim, swollen with the proof of desire. The pulse between my legs became impossible to ignore until I found release, panting in th
The ride home from the care home was a blur. My mind spun with thoughts of the website Clara had mentioned. Her words echoed in my head, low and sultry, *“He knew exactly how to make a woman feel good.”* The way she’d said it—like it was a secret she couldn’t keep to herself—sent a shiver down my spine. My thighs pressed together instinctively, a slow, aching heat building between them.Desire coiled in my stomach, hot and amazing. What would that feel like? To be touched by someone who knew exactly what I needed. A man who could unravel me with just his hands, his mouth, his—I fumbled with my keys as I unlocked the door to my small apartment. Tossing my bag onto the couch, I kicked off my shoes and stood in the dimly lit living room. The silence of the empty space pressed in on me, heavy and suffocating. Letting out a shaky breath, I reached for my phone. A part of me hesitated. Was I really considering this? Signing up for some website that matched you with... strangers? A lot of
Professor WolfeI used to run things—command respect through fear, take what I wanted, and burn anything that got in my way. I had no problem taking what I wanted, and no one dared challenge me. Gang leader. Ruthless. Cold. I built an empire on the backs of others, and I burned bridges in ways that could never be undone.But that was before.Then I turned my back on that life and became a lecturer—before I buried my demons under the guise of an ordinary man, trying to pretend my past didn’t exist. No one knew what I’d done, what I’d been.Then it all came crashing down. One fucking lie. One accusation that cost me everything.They framed me—shit, I can’t even say it without wanting to smash something. They said I raped her. A minor. A student. Said I touched her, ruined her, broke her. I never laid a hand on the lad. Not once. Bianca was just a student from the school where I used to teach—bright, kind, and wise beyond her years. When I agreed to tutor her, both during school hours a
It didn’t take long for my dad to fall asleep. His arms were tucked comfortably behind his head as he snored softly on his favorite couch, his right hand still stubbornly gripping the remote.I turned my gaze to Professor Wolfe—and caught him already looking at me. His heated stare dragged across my face, igniting something hot and reckless between us. I knew, at that exact moment, that we were thinking the same thing.Dad had just passed out, and Mom wouldn’t be back until tomorrow.And my dad?He was the heaviest sleeper known to man.I couldn’t even count the number of times my mom had complained about how nothing—not alarms, not storms, not even me and my brother roughhousing—could wake him up.The tension in the room tightened, pulling me back to the present when Professor Wolfe’s cold hands gripped my thighs. A sharp jolt of erotic electricity shot through my body, making me gasp.I looked down—and there he was.Kneeling between my legs.His fiery brown eyes locked onto mine wit
Ava The walk home felt endless and by the time I pushed through the front door, the house was warm and alive with the smell of dinner cooking—roast beef, potatoes, a little gravy, just the way my dad liked it. Normally, the scent would make my mouth water. Tonight, it made my stomach twist. I kicked off my shoes quietly, dropped my bag by the stairs, and wandered into the dining room. My dad was already sitting there, plates set, waiting for me. He looked up immediately, smiling gently. “Hey, kiddo. How was school?” I hesitated, forcing myself to sit across from him. The fork felt heavy in my hand as I toyed with my food without realizing it. It didn’t take long for him to notice. The way his smile dimmed. The way he watched me, his brow creasing just slightly with concern. “You’re awfully quiet tonight, Ava,” he said softly. His voice had that careful tone, the one he used when he didn’t want to push but couldn’t help worrying. I pressed my lips together, the wor
AvaToday, I didn't have Literature, unfortunately, but that didn’t stop me from snooping around outside the class Professor Wolfe was teaching. I’m sure he caught me countless times, the way his gaze darted to the door, his eyebrow arching whenever I dared glance through the window.An hour passed—an eternity—and finally, he emerged from the classroom. I moved quickly, cornering him.“Professor Wolfe,” I said, blocking his path with an innocent smile.His sharp, unreadable gaze flicked to me, waiting. Not a word, just a tilt of his head.I handed him the paper—the one I had deliberately sabotaged two nights ago, full of careless errors and lazy arguments. I knew how bad it was. He would, too.“My essay,” I said, slipping it into his hand. “Wanted to make sure you got it.”He glanced down at the pages, then back at me. “You skipped your scheduled submission slot yesterday.”“I know,” I murmured, offering a sheepish smile. “Wanted to give it to you personally.”His fingers brushed mine
The door slammed behind me, cutting off the noise of the outside world. I was home. I kicked off my shoes at the door, the click of them landing too loud in the silence. My father’s voice carried from the dining room, warm and inviting, as always.“Ava? Is that you?”I didn’t answer. I straightened my shoulders, took a breath, and walked to the dining room.The table was set, as always. The china gleamed, silverware polished. Everything was perfect. My father, in his crisp white shirt and black trousers, sat at the head, his hands folded in front of him. My mother was already seated, her gaze lifting from her phone as I entered, her smile warm.“Ava, how was your day?” my father asked, his voice as smooth and comforting as ever. The man was a saint in the eyes of the world, a respected figure. He had no idea what had just happened to me. What I'd done. “Fine,” I said, my voice too tight. “Quiet.”“Good,” he replied. “Good. I spoke with Director Johnson earlier. He said you’re doing w
I was still trembling when I came. My thighs quivered, clenching helplessly around Professor Damon’s cock as he emptied inside me, thick and hot. He groaned low in his chest, driving into me one last time, deep, possessive, marking me in every filthy, irreversible way.We stayed there for a moment—my back arched against the desk, his body covering mine, our sweat-slicked skin glued together, breathing ragged. The room was thick with the scent of sex, heat curling in the air even with the hum of the AC.But then—Knock.I jolted. My eyes flew open.Knock. Knock.And then a voice.“Professor Wolfe? Are you in there?”My heart plummeted into my stomach.That voice. That calm, familiar, warm voice.My father.Not just any man. Principal Clarke. Head of the school. Head of my home. And a highly respected pastor of our city's most powerful Catholic church.If he walked in and saw what had just happened-his daughter dripping with sex, the air heavy with sin, my professor still semi-hard from
“Think I didn’t notice?” he muttered, voice harsh and low. “Every time you crossed your arms under these tits in class. Every time you leaned forward while pretending to take notes. You’ve been asking for this.”I didn’t deny it. Couldn’t.My nipples tightened under his gaze, skin flushed with red palm print and hunger.“Beautiful,” he muttered, almost to himself.I pushed my tits together, and he thrust between them with a low groan. His cock slid through the soft swell of my cleavage, slick and hard, the head brushing against my chin each time he rocked forward.He gripped my shoulders and kept thrusting between my breasts, breathing heavy, hips snapping harder as his self-control frayed. The sound of skin on skin, our mingled breath, the wet slide of him through my cleavage—it was pure heat.“Open your mouth,” he growled.I did.The next thrust had the head of his cock brushing against my tongue, and I moaned at the taste of him—raw, masculine, overpowering. I flicked my tongue ove
Ava Clarke Doesn’t Give a DamnI walked into Professor Wolfe’s lecture like it was a goddamn catwalk—twenty minutes late, heels loud, dress short enough to start a fight. No apology. No eye contact. I just chewed gum and peeled off my sunglasses like I hadn’t just shattered his precious punctuality policy.The room went dead silent.Wolfe didn’t speak. Didn’t move. Just paused mid-sentence, chalk in hand, like someone had slapped the universe sideways.I chose the front row. Of course, I did.I slid into the seat slowly, thighs sticking to the wood, and let my skirt ride up even higher. Then I stretched. Arms over my head, back arched, skirt flipping just enough to flash the lace of my panties to the whole damn room.A few guys coughed. One dropped his pen.Wolfe turned around.And fuck me, he looked pissed.His sleeves were rolled to the elbows, tie loosened like it had tried to restrain him and failed. His jaw ticked once—just once—before he set the chalk down with a calmness so pre
NINA10:46PMI hummed softly as I padded toward our room with a mug of chamomile tea in hand, relishing the quiet for just a moment. The hallway was quiet and still, the kind of calm that only existed when Ezra was asleep and Kane hadn’t come up yet. I turned the corner—And stopped dead.There, halfway down the hallway near the guest room, Kendrick had Laila pinned gently against the wall, his lips on hers. Her hands were buried in his shirt, her body arching into his like this wasn’t the first time.I didn’t move. Couldn’t.What the hell?They didn’t see me at first. His head tilted slightly, deepening the kiss. Her fingers slipped into his hair like she knew every inch of him.Laila. My best friend.Kendrick. Kane's now closest friend.My throat tightened. Not from anger—but from the sheer weight of what the hell is going on and why didn’t I know?Then Laila opened her eyes.She froze, eyes locking with mine in pure panic.Kendrick turned, following her gaze, and when he saw me, h