All Chapters of Deep Inside (Erotica short story collections): Chapter 131 - Chapter 140

The cabin groaned as the night wind pressed against it, but Silvia’s world had narrowed to the heat inside,.fierce, overwhelming, and sacred.Torin's hands were on her hips, fingers bruising, his body caged against her back as he growled into her ear. “You were made to be worshipped like this.”His voice, raw and deep, sent vibrations straight through her spine. She gasped when Macus stepped in front of her again, his golden eyes blazing with restrained hunger. The firelight flickered across his bare chest, his muscles taut with control, but his lips were already parting, tongue flicking out as he reached for her.“You still burning for us, little moon?” Macus murmured, brushing a thumb over her swollen bottom lip.Silvia nodded, breathless, feeling the dizzying aftermath of the first claiming and yet her body ached for more. The heat hadn’t subsided. It was worse. Now that she’d tasted them, now that they’d filled her, she was greedy for it.“You need more,” Torin growled behind her,

The lights of Rome bled through the windows in streaks of gold and red as Jasmine leaned against the cool marble sink of the penthouse bathroom. Her hands gripped the edge like she was bracing for an earthquake, her chest rising and falling in sharp, uneven breaths. Picaso Emilio’s scent still clung to her skin, tobacco, leather, and something darker. Something sinful.Her lipstick was smudged, her hair a ruin of silk and need. She didn’t know what scared her more: the man or how much she wanted him. Her inner thighs still tingled from his mouth, and the imprint of his teeth on her hip looked like a secret brand.The door creaked behind her.“You run fast for someone who begged me not to stop,” came his voice, low, rough silk, soaked in danger.She met his eyes in the mirror. His shirt was unbuttoned, his tattoos a map of sins carved in ink. A gun holster hung off his shoulder like it belonged there more than his heart ever would. Picaso wasn’t just a man. He was a war.“You don’t ask

Silas Creek had never knelt for anyone in his life.Until her.Paula Deandro sat on the leather chaise in her private suite, legs crossed, sipping from a crystal glass of bourbon. Her silk robe fell open enough to tease, not offer. The slow smirk on her painted lips said she knew.She always knew.The poor boy in the Deandro estate, muscled, brooding, all quiet fire and unspoken hunger had caught her attention the moment he hauled lumber across the courtyard shirtless. His father’s debt had made him property. But she had taken him for hers."Take your shirt off," she said, voice like silk on steel.Silas stood just inside the door, jaw tight, fists clenched. “Why?”She took another slow sip. “Because I told you to.”He hesitated. Just long enough to feel the weight of it.Then he pulled the shirt over his head, exposing the lines of muscle, sweat-slicked from working the garden below. Paula’s eyes roamed his body like he was prey and he was.“Closer,” she murmured, uncrossing her legs

Paula watched him from her velvet armchair, legs elegantly crossed, dressed in a crimson silk robe that hung open just enough to show the black lace underneath. Her fingers curled around a crystal glass of wine, and her eyes burned into the man kneeling before her.Silas was naked.Naked, hard, and collared.The collar was black leather, a fresh gift from her this morning. No chains yet. Just the silent reminder that he belonged. Not to himself. To her.“Good boys don’t speak unless asked,” she purred, tilting her glass to her lips.He nodded, eyes trained on the floor like she taught him.Tonight wasn’t like the others. Tonight was special.Because tonight, he was going to be watched.She had invited two trusted friends, old-money mafia daughters like her, equally twisted in their desires. Paula had whispered to them about Silas’s obedience, the way he whined when denied, the way he begged when touched.And they had wanted a glimpse.Tonight, she would give them a show.There was a s

He was kneeling.Scarred hands behind his back. Shirt ripped open. Eyes locked on mine as if tethered.“You’re quiet tonight,” I murmured, swirling the last of my red wine in its crystal cage. My heels clicked slowly over the marble floor, the black slit of my gown whispering against my thighs with each step.Silas didn’t answer, not with words.Just a clench of his jaw.Just the unmistakable way his eyes dropped to my hands as I reached into my thigh holster and slowly drew out the golden blade.“Oh, you remember this,” I purred.The knife, curved and delicate, a ceremonial relic gifted by my grandfather after I closed my first deal without spilling a single drop of blood. Until Silas. Until I wanted to mark something that couldn’t be cleaned up.He swallowed hard.“Didn’t I tell you what would happen if you lied to me again?” I walked behind him, dragging the flat side of the blade along his shoulder, slow enough to watch him shiver.“You said you’d ruin me,” he rasped.“I said I’d