Semua Bab IN HER SKIN: Different Stories. Endless Lust : Bab 21 - Bab 30

She stepped in, her heels clicking against the polished floor as she moved to the center of the room. The door closed quietly behind her, leaving her alone. She could hear nothing from outside the door. Her legs ached as she stood waiting, her pulse pounding with suspense, but she stayed as instructed.After what felt like an eternity, the door finally creaked open. A man entered, closing the door softly behind him. He was striking: tall, with hair a distinguished shade of grey and dressed in a finely tailored suit that only enhanced his air of authority. Michela’s breath caught as she observed him, instinctively wishing she could capture this image in a photograph, to hide it away somewhere only she could find.He moved toward her, his gaze steady, inspecting her with a quiet intensity that made her feel completely exposed. “You will call me Master,” he said, his voice smooth and authoritative. “You will do everything and anything I say. Your safe word is ‘black.’ You may use it three

“Yes, Master.” He was unrelenting as he worked the egg-shaped vibrator, sliding it deeper, pressing it inside her, while another, thicker vibrator hummed against her clit. Each pulse sent escalating waves of sensation through her, her body tensing and shaking as she struggled to obey. She felt herself teetering on the precipice, her muscles clenching, her breath growing shallow.“Master,” she whimpered, her voice strained, “please, please let me cum.”“Not yet.” His refusal was calm, final, holding the vibration steady, prolonging her exquisite torment. She fought to hold back, to cling to control, but just as she was about to lose herself entirely, he withdrew the vibration. She lay empty and throbbing, her need unmet, a raw ache consuming her.“Master…” The word hung in the air, small and trembling, desperation thickening each syllable. Her body ached with unrelieved tension, every nerve still alive, pulsing, her mind hazy with the fierce desire for culmination. Yet he did not move c

The clatter of porcelain, conversations, and the rich scent of coffee filled Sandra with a sense of home. This café was her sanctuary, a place where she found solitude amid the gentle hum of life. But today, something was different. A peculiar mix of sounds caught her attention; rhythmic clinking teaspoons seemed to form a melody only she could hear, reminiscent of rainy afternoons listening to her grandmother's music box. This unexpected harmony, an intimate note woven into the cafe's usual symphony, sent a strange, gentle energy through her, like a whisper of a forgotten tune finally reaching her again.Sandra’s fingers traced the ring left by her untouched latte. Usually, she'd be lost in her book, but something in the café’s atmosphere made her look up. That’s when she noticed her. Across the room, bathed in warm light, sat an artist. Her dark, curly hair framed a face that looked both intelligent and a little wild.Anya stood out against Sandra’s life. She seemed confident, moving

Sandra surged forward, her hands finding Anya’s shoulders, her fingers digging into the fabric of her dress. Their lips met in a kiss that was equal parts desperation and surrender, soft at first, tentative, as if Sandra were afraid she might break. But Anya didn’t let her stay gentle for long. Her free hand slid to the small of Sandra’s back, pulling her flush against her body, their curves fitting together like two pieces of a puzzle. The storm outside forgotten, the entire world narrowed down to the heat of their mouths, the slick slide of their tongues.Anya groaned into the kiss, the sound vibrating against Sandra’s lips. “Fuck, you taste even better than I imagined,” she whispered, her voice rough, her fingers tightening in Sandra’s hair. “All sweet and shy, like you’ve never been touched before.” Her teeth grazed Sandra’s lower lip, tugging just enough to make her gasp. “Have you? Been touched, I mean. Or do you save all that pretty blush just for me?”Sandra’s whimper was answe

And Sandra did. Her body tightened, spasms rippling through her before the shivers came in waves.“You’re cold. Let’s go inside,” Anya murmured as they walked across the darkened floor of her studio.“Here, relax.” She handed Sandra a bottle of water from the mini fridge and watched her drink. Sandra passed it back, her lips still wet.“You’re beautiful when you come". Anya said softly.“It’s your turn, Anya.” The first touch of Sandra’s tongue to Anya’s sensitive flesh was tentative, a soft, exploring caress that sent a shiver through Anya. Anya gasped, her hips instinctively arching up to meet Sandra’s eager mouth. Sandra, usually so quiet, felt a surge of power, a profound need to make Anya utterly lose control. Her tongue became bolder, lapping slowly, deliberately, tasting the sweet, musky arousal that clung to Anya.Anya’s hands tangled in Sandra’s hair, not pulling, but holding her close, pressing her deeper into the delicious friction. “Oh, Sandra,” Anya moaned, her voice a low