Her Dirty Little Games のすべてのチャプター: チャプター 121 - チャプター 130

MILAMonday came too fast.I woke up with heavy eyes and a heavier heart, the kind of tired that no amount of sleep could fix. I stared at the ceiling for a long time before dragging myself out of bed.School felt like the last place I wanted to be, but I didn’t have a choice. I had attendance, assignments, deadlines, that needed my attention, and life didn’t stop because your brain was spinning out of control over a priest.I forced myself into jeans, threw my hair into a bun, and left my apartment without breakfast.The walk to campus felt endless. Every sound- the chatter, the cars, the morning buzz, was just background noise. I barely heard any of it. My mind was somewhere else.No matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t stop replaying that moment… the way his breath hitched, the heat of his hands, the way everything around us had disappeared until all that existed was him.And then the look on his face when he walked away.By the time I reached class, my chest already felt tight.I

MILAMy hand drifted down without my permission, slipping under the waistband of my shorts. I shouldn't. I really shouldn't. But my fingers found my soaked pussy anyway, sliding through the slick folds. I was drenched, my clit swollen and begging for attention. I circled it slowly, biting my lip to muffle a moan as the fantasy deepened.He'd strip me bare, I bet… yank off my T-shirt and shorts, exposing my naked body to his gaze. His eyes would darken with that forbidden lust, raking over my curves, my hard nipples, the way my thighs parted instinctively for him.“Mila,” he'd growl, his voice low and gravelly, nothing like the calm tone he used in sermons. Then he'd drop to his knees between my legs, spreading me wide, and bury his face in my pussy.I gasped aloud, my fingers plunging inside myself now, two at once, mimicking the thrust I craved. He'd lick me there, his tongue flat and broad against my clit, sucking it into his mouth while his fingers fucked me deep. I'd buck against

MILA“I shouldn’t have done that,” he said finally. “But I couldn’t help it.”“Then maybe,” I said softly, “you shouldn’t fight it.”The words slipped out before I could stop them. He looked at me sharply, as if he wasn’t sure he’d heard me right. His expression hardened for a second but it didn’t last. Not when I kept looking at him the way I was.“Mila,” he said, his voice a low warning. “Don’t…”“Don’t what?” I cut in. “Be honest? Feel something?”He flinched.“You think I don’t know this is wrong?” I said, my voice shaking a little now. “That I don’t wake up every day trying to convince myself to stay away from here? I do. But I can’t. And maybe you can’t either.”He turned away from me, running a hand through his hair, exhaling like the weight of every word I said was pressing down on him.“This isn’t about what we want,” he said, quieter this time. “It’s about what’s right.”“Then why does it feel so wrong to ignore it?” I asked.He didn’t answer.For a long, unbearable moment,

MILAI saw it.The way his shoulders stiffened when our fingers brushed. The way his breath hitched when I leaned closer.He tried to hide it, but he couldn’t.And God, it thrilled me.I leaned back slightly, letting the silence stretch, pretending to focus on the steam curling from his bowl while my mind screamed with satisfaction. He’d messaged me first. He’d come here, to my house. I didn’t have to do anything… this time he’d crossed the line all on his own.That was enough proof. Enough to show Sandra I’d done it. The bet was mine.The car was mine.So why did I feel… empty?I should’ve stopped here. I should’ve texted Sandra right now with a smug “Told you so” and ended it all. But something in me didn’t want to.I tried to convince myself this was still about the game. About winning, about proving something, but deep down, I knew better.Somewhere between the teasing, the stares, something had changed.I wasn’t just making a priest fall for me.I was falling too.I looked at h

OLIVIAThe smell of butter, herbs, and toasted bread filled the tiny apartment. I turned slightly on the couch, watching him from where I sat, the blanket still draped around my shoulders.Adrian stood by the stove, sleeves rolled up, moving with this quiet focus that made it hard to look away. The morning light shone in his hair, turning the edges gold.He looked over his shoulder at me and smiled. “Almost done.”I smiled back before I could stop myself. “You look like you’ve done this before.”“Cooking?” He chuckled, giving the pan one last stir. “You pick up a few things when you live alone for years. Besides…” He lifted the pan from the stove, “you deserve something warm after… everything.”My heart tugged a little at that.He plated the food- ggs, sautéed vegetables, and toast. simple but beautiful, like he’d actually cared about how it looked. He grabbed a fork, then walked over, balancing the plate carefully in one hand.“Here,” he said, stopping in front of me. “Taste it firs