บททั้งหมดของ Crave: Wicked Desires: บทที่ 101 - บทที่ 110

He didn’t pull out.Not even a centimeter.Still buried deep inside me, he shifted his weight, grabbed my hair, and yanked my head down toward his cock.My breath hitched, heart pounding as I followed, trembling lips parting to welcome him.Silk and sweat mixed on my tongue—the taste of me, soaked and raw, clinging to him like a second skin.He was still hard. Thick. Pulsing, heavy with need.I swirled my tongue around the head, slow and deliberate, teasing the slit slick with my arousal.His hand tangled in my hair, pulling, guiding.“You’re a filthy girl,” he growled. “You love being used.”I moaned around him.His hips jerked forward, pushing past my lips, filling my mouth deeper than I thought possible.I gagged, eyes watering, but kept going, desperate to please, to keep him.The leather of the limo’s seat pressed into my knees, rough against my skin, but I barely noticed.All I could feel was him. Hot, pulsing, heavy.He groaned deep in his throat, fingers digging into my scalp.

He didn’t look at me again for a while.Not when he passed out meals, not when he made eye contact with every other man in the cabin who wasn’t already soaked in his attention. I sat still and quiet, shifting just enough to ease the ache between my legs. But it didn’t help.I could still feel his palm. His words. His heat.He was everywhere.I drank the champagne he poured earlier, not because I wanted it, but because my mouth felt too dry and my head was spinning. My eyes flicked up every time he passed, hoping for something. A nod. A signal. Another brush of fingers.Nothing.It was worse than the teasing.---He came back after the second round of drinks. Leaned down like he was checking my seatbelt.“You look flushed,” he said under his breath, fingers barely grazing my inner thigh. “Need some relief, sir?”I nodded. I couldn’t even play it cool anymore. I didn’t care.“Good,” he said. “Lights go down in twenty. Be ready.”I opened my mouth to ask—Ready for what?—but he was alread

I thought he was done with me.After the bathroom, after he came down my throat, after I wiped my face with the back of my hand like a whore who knew her place—I thought maybe, just maybe, I’d earned a break.But no.He wasn’t done.He didn’t even speak this time.He just grabbed my wrist and pulled me with him through the back curtain, down the narrow galley, past the drink carts and storage bins until we reached the crew jump seat. It was empty. Folded up. Hidden from passengers.He sat first.Then patted his lap.I stared.He raised a brow, like you know what this is.“Get on,” he said.I didn’t move.I was still sore. Still stretched and leaking. My throat still burned, and my knees ached from the bathroom floor. But my cock was already hard again, trapped in my pants, drooling against the fabric.“Now.”My body moved before my brain did.I stepped between his legs, straddled him slowly, awkwardly, the way someone might mount a gun aimed at their own chest. He unzipped me. Pulled

Kael tossed me like a ragdoll.Not carelessly. No—deliberately. Like he knew he owned me now.My wrists were raw from the rope, but I didn’t even care. My cunt was aching, soaked and empty, and every nerve in me begged to be filled.He pulled me into his lap, bare ass against his thighs, and I felt his cock pressing up beneath me, hard, slick with spit and need.“Time you learned how to ride,” he growled, gripping my hips.I was barely breathing. Barely alive. But when he lifted me and forced my wet folds to part around his cock, I screamed.Too full.Too much.And yet I didn’t stop. I couldn’t.He shoved deeper, inch by inch, until he bottomed out and ground against my womb.“Fuck, you’re tight,” Kael hissed. “Say thank you.”My voice was hoarse. “T—Thank you.”He licked my throat and bit down. “You’ll thank every fucking one of us.”Behind me, footsteps. I didn’t even look. I just opened my mouth. A new cock. Thicker than Kael’s. Slick at the tip.He didn't say a word. Just tapped i

The moon hung heavy over the ruined courtyard. Pale and swollen, it spilled silver over the cracked temple floor where moss climbed between ancient sigils, long faded with time. No one came here anymore, not since the edict, not since the last High Priest screamed into flame beneath the altar.But Kael had heard the voice.It began with whispers, slithering into his dreams, curling down his spine like warm breath. It was not one voice but many, overlapping, echoing through stone and memory. He had resisted. He had prayed harder, fasted longer. But the whispers grew teeth. They said his name like a promise. Like a claim.And tonight, the moon had called him.Barefoot, trembling, he stepped beyond the shattered threshold. His ceremonial robes fluttered against his thighs, nearly sheer in the windless dark. He shouldn’t have come. He was the last of the Moon Order, a vessel meant for the divine but never touched. He had taken oaths, kneeling on cold stone, blood binding his tongue to sil