All Chapters of Twisted Temptation : Chapter 21 - Chapter 28

The next morning, I walked into school feeling like my entire body was on fire. Every time I thought about what happened behind the bleachers, shame and desire twisted my stomach into knots. His touch haunted me, his voice echoed in my mind.“Stroke it, princess. Make your bully feel good.”I clenched my thighs together as I walked down the crowded hallway. I hated him. I hated how he made me feel. But most of all, I hated that I wanted more.“Hey, slut.”My heart stopped as his deep voice cut through my thoughts. I turned to see Damian leaning against my locker, his varsity jacket hanging open to reveal a tight white tee stretched across his broad chest. His dark green eyes glimmered with mischief as he smirked at me.“Move,” I said coldly, trying to push past him.But he grabbed my waist and slammed me against the locker, making me gasp. His body pressed into mine, his hard cock rubbing against my stomach through his jeans.“Where do you think you’re going, princess?” he whispered,

It was almost midnight when Emily pushed open the door of Black Raven Bar. The neon lights flickered over her curves wrapped tightly in a black silk dress that clung to her like sin. Her hair, a dark waterfall, fell over her shoulders, teasing the valley of her cleavage with each sway of her hips. She didn’t care who stared at her tonight; in fact, she wanted their eyes. She needed to feel wanted again.Life had been a monotonous blur since her messy breakup with Sean six months ago. She was tired of crying into wine glasses, tired of Netflix recommendations telling her to “watch something new.” Tonight, she wanted something new, but not a movie. A body. A touch. A savage kiss that stole her sanity.She slid onto a barstool, crossing her legs slowly, aware of how the hem of her dress crept higher up her thighs. The bartender, a tattooed blonde woman with a bored smile, walked up.“What can I get you, sweetheart?” she asked.“Double whiskey, neat.” Her voice came out husky, coated with

I never liked the idea of my mother getting married again, especially not to a rich old man from Los Angeles. But I liked his son even less.Dylan was twenty-five, just three years older than me, but the arrogance in his eyes felt decades ahead. Tall, broad-shouldered, with dark hair that curled over his forehead and ocean-blue eyes that always looked like they were undressing me.When mom married Charles last year, Dylan moved into the Malibu mansion temporarily. He was supposed to live downtown, but he stayed longer than planned, making my life a living hell.I remember the first morning I saw him shirtless in the kitchen, muscles sculpted like he belonged in a Calvin Klein ad, tattoos snaking down his arms, his sweatpants hanging low enough to expose that delicious V-line.“Morning, princess,” he said with a smirk, eyes flickering over my braless chest under the thin tank top.“Don’t call me that,” I snapped, feeling my nipples tighten under his gaze.“Why not? You’re living in dad

Days turned into weeks, and my life became a cycle of secrecy and sin. Dylan would fuck me anywhere he wanted – in my room, in his car, by the pool, even in the empty guest rooms when no one was home.I tried to resist him. I tried to tell myself this was wrong. But every time he touched me, every time his filthy words dripped into my ear, my resolve crumbled.One evening, after another rough session that left me trembling and marked with his bruises, I sat on the bathroom floor, staring at the pregnancy test in my hands.Two pink lines.My vision blurred with tears. I pressed a hand to my stomach, feeling nausea rise in my throat. This couldn’t be happening.I didn’t sleep that night. My mind raced with fear and guilt. How could I tell him? How could I tell anyone?The next morning, Dylan cornered me in the kitchen, grabbing my waist and pulling me flush against his chest. His scent – mint, musk, and danger – made my knees weak instantly.“Why the long face, princess?” he asked, brus