All Chapters of RED HOT STORIES (A COLLECTION OF ST*AMY STORIES): Chapter 241 - Chapter 250

AMARA'S POVThe week after that evening with Ethan moved like a slow song. Everything felt softer somehow mornings brighter, nights quieter, even my writing gentler. It was as though something inside me had finally exhaled.But there was also a new kind of restlessness I couldn’t quite name. Each time I sat at my desk, I found myself thinking not of the characters in my novel, but of him the way he listened when I spoke, the small laugh that slipped through when he caught me rambling, the way silence didn’t feel awkward when we shared it.It had been three days since I last saw him, but he kept slipping into my thoughts as easily as light through an open window.I told myself I was fine, that I needed space to write, but my heart disagreed. So when he called that afternoon and asked if I’d come to his studio again, I said yes without hesitation.When I arrived, he was setting up his camera near the large window. Sunlight flooded the room, spilling across the wooden floor and his shoul

Amara's pov Morning came gently, with light filtering through the curtains in long, golden strokes. The rain had stopped sometime in the night, leaving behind the smell of wet earth and something soft in the air the kind of quiet that feels like it’s waiting to be broken.I hadn’t slept much. Every time I closed my eyes, I saw Ethan’s face the nearness of him, the way his voice had turned soft when he told me not to write it, just feel it. The way we’d stayed there in silence, caught between wanting and waiting.Now, sitting at my desk, I traced the lines on my notebook without writing a word. My heart still felt full and heavy all at once.A gentle knock sounded on my door.“Come in,” I said, though my voice was hardly more than a whisper.Ethan stepped inside, the morning light brushing over him. He looked different somehow calmer, yet uncertain. His shirt sleeves were rolled up, his hair still slightly damp. I could smell coffee and something else… something warm that reminded me

Tristan's POVI sat alone on the bench, watching the crowd of gyrating teens sway in rhythm to rock beats blasting off the mounted speakers. The glow-lights they had shared at the dinner party still dangled on my neck, its green glow glinting off rhinestones embedded on my suit's lapel.Kelvin, Terry and Damien danced with their girls, their bodies moving under the cheap disco lights. Their hands grabbed their waists tight and their crotched pushed against their asses as they grinded. A girl's moan erupted from a corner of the room and everyone laughed.Girl was probably being fucked.I tipped the plastic cup over my head, gulping down the last drop of vodka in it. I still wasn't drunk enough–drunk enough to escape the loud music and ear-piercing laughs.‘Fuck my low intolerance, I need more.’Before I could get up, Kelvin stumbled out of the crowd, his girlfriend, Tache, in tow behind him. They both laughed at something only the drunk could understand.“Broooooo–” Kelvin dragged the

TRISTAN'S POV“Gillard,” I said and he nodded, his short brown hair bouncing. "What… course are you in for?"“I'm an Art Major," Gillard replied as he walked back to the door and closed it shut. The murmurs seeping into the room immediately stopped. “Sorry, I don't really fancy the noise."I nodded, watching as he walked to the box by the bed close to the window and unzipped it. He pulled out a packet of oats, a jug of milk and sugar. A confused frown fell on my face as he walked to his desk and dropped the three on it.“So what's your course?” he asked as he began twisting the cock of the milk jug. “You look smart. Science?"“Information Tech," I said with a small shrug as I dropped my bag on my supposed bed–smaller with polkadot sheets but metal unlike Gillard’s. “I actually planned on taking computer science but… stuffs happened.”"That's sad,” Gillard mumbled, his mouth half filled with oats and milk. “You'll…” Milk dripped down his chin and he wiped it with the back of his hands,

TRISTAN'S POVMy eyes squelched shut, tears dripping down my cheeks and drool trickling down my chin as Gillard fucked my face. His cock throbbed in my mouth, hitting the back of my throat and giving little space for me to breathe.“You fucking faggot," he said through gritted teeth, his hands pulling my short hair hard. “I'm not fucking gay. You fucking hear me."I wanted to answer but his dick pushed my words back down my throat. I grabbed his legs, trying to steady myself. The metal rails of my bed pressed hard against the back of my neck and his thrusts only made me hit it the more.I couldn't complain though. Somehow, I loved the pain and pleasure he fed me. And even though I winced from how hard he grabbed my hair, I wanted him to hit harder.Gillard pulled his cock out of my mouth and rough, sharp coughs erupted from my throat. Spittle drew down my mouth following his cock, falling like strings of webs as he lifted my face to meet his. His gaze was cold and his face was scrunch