บททั้งหมดของ Deep Inside (Erotica short story collections): บทที่ 91 - บทที่ 100

Jolene woke wrapped in heat not the dry blaze of summer, but a deep, thick warmth that soaked through the marrow of her bones. Guriel’s body blanketed her from behind, one massive arm draped over her waist like a shackle. He didn’t sleep. She could feel the tension in his chest, the slow rhythm of his breath too intentional, too watchful.“You’re staring,” she murmured.He didn’t deny it.His palm slid lower, resting just below her navel, fingers brushing the faint swell of her abdomen. Her thighs clenched at the memory of how he’d taken her hours ago, savage, reverent, like she was both altar and offering.“You’ve been marked,” he said softly.Jolene blinked and sat up, the sheet slipping down to reveal her bare chest. She looked down—and there it was.A symbol had bloomed across the skin just beneath her collarbone black and vivid, like freshly spilled ink. It looked ancient. Circular, demonic. Part flame, part fang. It pulsed faintly with heat, as if still alive.“What the hell is

Genre: Sea Creature x Human | Dark Fantasy RomanceCW: Explicit sexual content, dark romantic themes, possessive behavior, monster lover, tentacles, ocean setting...The sea had always whispered to Maeve Delora.She’d grown up in the coastal village of Elowyn’s Watch, where the fishermen never fished past the dark reef and mothers hung dried sage and salt above their doorways. Everyone in town knew the stories. About the creatures beneath the tide. About the old god who slept in the trench and the ones who served him.Maeve had never believed them, until the sea took her sister.And returned only a lock of her wet, black hair wrapped in barnacle-crusted seaweed.So Maeve began walking the shore alone at midnight. Calling the tide. Cursing it. Begging it. Bleeding on its stones.On the thirteenth night, he came.She didn’t hear him approach. Didn’t see him rise from the surf. She only knew that suddenly, she wasn’t alone.A tall, shadowed figure stood where the waves licked the sand

Maeve no longer dreamed of the shore.Days or what passed for days beneath the tides, flowed in a haze of heat and ache. Her body was changing faster now. She moved through the sea like she had always belonged to it, her legs strong and sleek, her lungs no longer straining even at the trench’s edge. Her skin held the shimmer of coral-light, her hair had turned weightless and thick like sea silk.And at night, when she floated in the moss-bed and Orun-Kai came to her with his glowing eyes and restless tentacles, she welcomed him with an open body and a heart that burned like bioluminescent flame.She was his. And he, dark god of the trench, keeper of ruin was utterly hers.But tonight felt different.She awoke curled against his chest, her skin slick with sweat and salt, a dull throb low in her abdomen. A hum vibrated from her womb, steady, ancient.Orun-Kai was already awake, watching her with a stillness that made her stomach twist.“What is it?” she whispered.He touched her lower b

Seris hadn’t meant to return. She’d told herself that.But the truth was in her shaking fingers as she stood beneath the moonlight, just outside the veil of the Thorn Court. Her sword was slung over her back. Her satchel carried the treaty stone, the very reason she’d slept with a fae king in the first place. The stone had already been handed over to her order.Mission complete.And yet here she was, a week later, drawn back like her body remembered something her mind refused to name.Ached for it.Him.The mark on her shoulder, where Vaelen Thornborne had bit her, was no longer red. It shimmered faintly gold now, just under the skin. Her Order’s priestesses told her it would fade.But every night since leaving his bed, she had woken gasping. Wet between her thighs. His name trembling on her lips.So she crossed the veil again.And the thorns opened for her like they’d been waiting.He was already waiting when she entered the throne chamber.His shirt hung open, exposing the vines tat

She wasn’t cold anymore.Anya lay tangled in silk sheets that smelled of clove smoke, old blood, and dark musk, him. Her thighs were slick with the evidence of what he’d poured into her. Her pulse still throbbed from where Lord Vaereth had bitten her.The vampire sat nearby, bare-chested, his hair spilling over one shoulder like black ink. He watched her like she might run again. As if he’d already planned fifty ways to catch her if she tried.“You didn’t drain me,” she murmured, voice still hoarse with desire.Vaereth turned his crimson gaze on her, slow and deliberate.“No,” he said. “Not yet.”“Why?”“You begged so sweetly,” he replied. “And I find I enjoy watching your mind shatter more than stealing your life. For now.”Her breath caught in her throat.He stood then, naked, tall, utterly beautiful in a terrifying way. His cock hung thick and heavy, already stirring again.“You awakened something in me, Anya,” he said, stepping toward the bed. “Something buried. Something old. I w