Semua Bab 85 Virgin Sins; Taboo Runs Wild: Bab 81 - Bab 90

Lila. I crawl across the mattress toward him, my knees sinking into the soft fabric, heart pounding with a mix of nerves and raw need. Damon’s eyes lock on me, dark and hungry, a smirk playing on his lips. “Such a good little girl, aren’t you?” he says, his hands slapping both my thighs sharp and stinging as I straddle his face, spreading my legs wide. The smack echoes, heat flaring across my skin, making my pussy clench harder. His fingers find the rope lace cinching my gown around my chest, tugging it loose with rough pulls. “I want these off… I want to see how beautiful those tits are,” he grunts, voice thick with lust, yanking the fabric free. My breasts spring out, heavy and aching, nipples hard from the cool air and his gaze. Leaning forward, my face inches from his, they brush his cheeks, teasing his lips. He reaches up, mouth latching onto one nipple, sucking hard, tongue swirling the peak while his teeth graze just enough to spark pain-pleasure. I’ve

Cassie. I don’t know if it’s wrong to feel this way, but my body’s become its own universe, heat pooling between my thighs, growing hotter every damn day. Alone in my room, I can’t stop—fingers slipping into my pussy, thrusting deeper, harder, chasing that edge. I pinch my nipples raw, twisting until they ache, fucking myself frantic with my hand, but it’s never enough. I’m 18; I shouldn’t be this desperate, this filthy. My brain screams it’s wrong, but my body betrays every moral, craving skin, touch, him. Ever since Dad assigned Dante as my bodyguard, it’s worsened. I bought vibrators, dildos in every size—thick, veined, buzzing monsters—but they’re hollow substitutes. My pussy aches for Dante’s cock, wants to swallow him whole, feel him stretch and ruin me instead of cold silicone. “Oh my god, Cassie… is that your new bodyguard?” Mimi, my best friend, whispers as we walk the school hallway. She’s spotted Dante stepping out of the car, opening my door with that s

Cassie.“Fuck… Dante…” I yelp, the sound ripping from my throat as he thrusts two thick fingers in and out of my dripping pussy, curling them hard against my front wall, hitting that spot that makes stars explode behind my eyes.The hood’s metal warms under my back, but his fingers are fire—pumping relentless, knuckles dragging my slick walls, saliva and juices squelching obscenely with every plunge.My hips buck wild, chasing the rhythm, thighs quivering in his iron grip.He yanks them out suddenly, leaving me empty and whining, pussy clenching around nothing.Before I can beg, he lowers his head, hands clamping my thighs wider, spreading me like a feast.His tongue drags flat and slow up my clit—hot, wet pressure that sends shocks through my core.“Oh yes! Yeah… right there, please don’t stop…” I moan, voice breaking, fingers scraping the hood for anchor as pleasure coils tight.“You’re still screaming, princess…” he murmurs against my folds, the vibration humming straight to my cli

Cassie. I twist my head over my shoulder, my breath hitching as Dante’s zipper rasps open—slow, deliberate. He doesn’t bother shoving his trousers down; they stay bunched at his thighs, framing the thick, veined cock that springs free, angry red head already slick with precum. It bobs heavy, slapping his abs before he fists it, dragging the crown from the cleft of my ass down through my soaked lips, parting them with a filthy glide that makes me whimper. “Eyes on me, princess,” he growls, slapping the fat head against my clit once, twice—sharp, wet smacks that jolt through my core. “Watch how I ruin this virgin cunt.” I do—can’t look away. He notches himself at my entrance, teasing, circling, coating his length in my juices. “Beg for it,” he demands, one hand still pinning my neck, the other gripping his shaft. “Please… fuck me, Dante… harder,” I sob, pushing back, ass grinding desperate. He thrusts in one brutal stroke—halfway, thick girth splitting me open, bur

Daniel. I’ve always craved my teacher, Ms. Harper, in ways that would make her blush crimson if she knew. Maybe. She wasn’t supposed to be my type. Not even close. But fuck—try telling that to my body. It reacts to her like it’s been waiting for her all along. Every nerve tuned to her voice, her scent, the way she looks at me without even knowing. I wasn’t supposed to think of her that way. Wasn’t supposed to crave the sound of her laugh or imagine her tangled in my sheets. And yet the same mind that lectures me fantasizes about taking her there, pushing her until the world narrows to the edge of that desk — bending her over it, the scrape of paper and wood under our weight, the heat of her breath against my wrist. It’s wrong and it’s everything I want. Only her. Always her. I’ve pictured bending her over that desk, hiking up her tight pencil skirt that hugs her curves like a second skin, and fucking her senseless—pounding deep until she’s moaning my name instead