Twisted Temptation のすべてのチャプター: チャプター 91 - チャプター 100

The mirror in the hotel bathroom was cracked, the fluorescent light above it flickering. She leaned against the counter, fixing her lipstick with shaky hands. Her reflection looked wrecked—hair a tangled halo, mascara smudged at the corners, lips swollen from his kisses. She should have felt disgusted, guilty, something. Instead, her thighs still trembled, her body still humming like an overstrung wire. Through the door she could hear him moving, the rustle of sheets, the scrape of a lighter. The faint scent of cigarette smoke bled under the crack. He was too calm, too at ease, like fucking her raw in a seedy hotel was just another night. Maybe for him, it was. She dabbed at her mouth, smoothed her skirt, forced herself to breathe steady. When she came out, he was lounging back against the headboard, one arm propped behind his head, the other holding a cigarette between two fingers. The glow lit up his smirk. “You always sneak off to the bathroom after you come that hard?” he

The room was thick with heat, the sharp tang of sweat and sex clinging to the air. The couch cushions were ruined, the blanket tangled on the floor, her panties ripped and abandoned somewhere near the door. She lay sprawled beneath him, chest heaving, hair plastered damp to her forehead. Every muscle trembled, her thighs aching from being spread too wide, too long. He stayed inside her, half-hard, his weight heavy and grounding. For a moment, silence hung between them. No taunts, no games—just the sound of two people who had fucked each other raw. He kissed her then. Not hungry, not demanding, but slow, lazy, like he had all the time in the world. It startled her more than his roughness ever did. “Don’t,” she whispered against his lips, eyes fluttering shut. “Don’t what?” “Don’t kiss me like that. It’s… different.” His grin curved, wicked and knowing. “Scared it means something?” She shoved at his chest, slipping out from under him. Her legs wobbled when she stood, t

The words unleashed him. His pace turned savage, slamming into her again and again until she screamed, body quaking, pleasure unraveling her. Her orgasm ripped through her, violent and consuming, her walls clenching around him like a vice. He cursed, shuddered, then spilled inside her with a guttural groan, grinding her down onto him as if he could bury himself even deeper. They clung to each other, trembling, breathless, the air thick with sex and something far more dangerous. When the high ebbed, she sagged against him, her head resting on his shoulder. The intimacy of the moment hit her harder than the orgasm. She whispered it before she could stop herself. “What are we doing?” He kissed the side of her neck, slow and lingering, nothing like his usual cocky smirk. “Exactly what we’re supposed to.” The car was silent except for the hiss of the cooling engine and their ragged breathing. Her skin still burned, slick with sweat, her thighs trembling from the brutal pace he’

Maya reappeared before Emma could form a clever comeback, tugging at her wrist with a squeal. “Dance floor. Now.”Emma barely had time to set her glass down before she was yanked into the press of bodies. The music was relentless, bass hammering her ribs until she swore her heart tried to match it. Sweat dampened her skin, strangers brushing against her shoulders, hips, arms.She let Maya spin her, laughing until her lungs ached. The alcohol blurred her edges, loosening her grip on self-consciousness. Her sundress clung to her thighs as she swayed, moving in rhythm she hadn’t trusted herself to feel in years.But even as she lost herself in the beat, she felt him. The bartender. His gaze burned into her like a spotlight, steady even in the chaos. Every time she glanced toward the bar, he was there—hands working bottles with casual skill, eyes never straying far from her.It shouldn’t have mattered. He was a stranger. A local with tattoos and a smirk sharp enough to cut. She should’ve

The sound of the waves seemed to thicken, crashing louder as if the ocean itself leaned in to watch. Liam’s hand slid higher, under the hem of Emma’s dress, fingertips brushing the lace of her panties. Her thighs trembled, her pulse ricocheting through her body. “Here?” she whispered, the word half a gasp, half disbelief. “Here.” His mouth grazed hers, voice rough. “Sand, salt, and skin. You’ll remember it every time you close your eyes.” Before she could think, he hooked his hands around the back of her thighs and lifted. A startled laugh broke from her throat as her legs wrapped around his waist. He carried her down toward the shoreline, water foaming at his ankles, her dress riding up high as the humid air clung to every inch of exposed skin. When he laid her down on the sand, his body followed instantly, heavy and hot against hers. His kiss turned feral, teeth scraping her lower lip, tongue demanding. Her hips bucked helplessly, searching for friction, and he gave it to her—pr