บททั้งหมดของ Red Lace Christmas: A Taste Of Sin{steamiest short stories}: บทที่ 91 - บทที่ 100

Richard’s POVI’d been a commercial pilot for twelve years, and in all that time, no crew member had ever gotten under my skin like Elena. She was thirty-two, married for six years, with a husband who worked on the ground crew for a different airline. Elena was the senior flight attendant on my regular transatlantic route with a height that left me mesmerized, elegant, with sun-kissed olive skin, long dark wavy hair she pinned up neatly under her cap, and a body that made the uniform look obscene. Her navy skirt hugged a perfect heart-shaped ass, the white blouse strained over full, heavy breasts, and those long legs in sheer stockings always made me hard the moment she stepped onto the flight deck for pre-flight briefing.We’d flown together for eight months and I’d been feeling things since day one. At first, it was professional respect, her calm voice during turbulence, the way she anticipated my coffee order exactly how I liked it. Then came the lingering eye contact during layo

Kayla’s PovIt was a hot Saturday afternoon. Mom had left early that morning for a three-day work conference. Layla and I were so happy thinking we had the whole house to ourselves to continue in our sins.We had rushed into our bedroom, door slightly ajar in our rush. I laid on my back, legs spread obscenely wide, while Layla knelt between my thighs, eagerly eating my soaked pussy. Her tongue was deep inside me, licking and sucking my clit like she was starving for it.“Fuck, Layla… just like that,” I moaned loudly, fingers tangled in her hair. “Eat your sister’s pussy… make me cum on your tongue…”She moaned into me, pushing two fingers deep while sucking hard on my swollen clit. I was right on the edge, grinding against her face, when a deep, commanding voice cut through the room like thunder.“Well, well… what do we have here?”We both froze. Gabriel stood in the doorway, eyes dark with raw, burning lust as he watched us. His powerful arms were crossed over his broad chest, and t

Ashley’s POVI knew this was wrong. I knew it every single time I looked at Scott across the rink. But knowing something is wrong doesn’t stop the ache between your legs when you’re neglected.My boyfriend, Coach Tim, had been distant for months. Between practices, games, and his obsession with turning the team into champions, our sex life had shriveled to almost nothing. Quick, unsatisfying fucks once every couple of weeks that left me more frustrated than before. I was 29, with a body I worked hard for — full, heavy breasts, a tight waist, and an ass that still turned heads but I felt invisible.Until Scott, he was a twenty four year old with broad shoulders, powerful thighs built from years on the ice, messy dark hair, and piercing blue eyes that always seemed to find me during games. He had a reputation for being cocky, aggressive, and very, very good with women and he was the team’s star forwardI told myself the butterflies I felt when he called me “Miss Ashley” were harmless b

CANDACEI watched him from the doorway of my penthouse bedroom, sipping champagne. At twenty four, Tyler was all lean muscles and was sculpted like a Greek statue, standing there in nothing but the expensive black silk boxers I’d bought him last week.“Come here, baby,” I purred, feeling my tummy clench in anticipation.Tyler crossed the room immediately, eyes bright with that perfect mix of hunger and devotion, the exact look that always turned me on. “Yes, ma’am.”I smiled and ran my manicured nails down his chest. “Such a good boy. Always so eager for me.” I hooked my fingers in his waistband and pushed the boxers down, freeing his thick, already hard cock. “Look at you… so perfect for your sugar mummy.”I led him to the bed and pushed him onto his back. At fifty-two, I knew exactly what I wanted and how to get it. Straddling his thighs, while still wearing my emerald silk robe, I slowly stroked his impressive length.“You’ve been such a good baby boy lately,” I praised, leaning d

ERICThe bass from the club downstairs thumped through the walls of the hotel room like a second heartbeat. I leaned against the doorframe, watching her. Remi. She’d given me her name on the dance floor an hour ago, right before her hips pressed against mine and her lips brushed my ear with a single question: “Your room or mine?”Mine, obviously. Closer.She stood by the floor-to-ceiling window now, city lights of Lagos glittering behind her like scattered diamonds. Her black dress clung to every curve, the hem riding high on her thighs from the way she’d moved on the dance floor. Dark hair cascaded down her back, and when she turned to look at me, her eyes were heavy with the same hunger I felt tightening low in my gut.“You’re staring,” she said, voice low and teasing.“Can’t help it.” I crossed the room slowly, giving her time to change her mind. She didn’t. Instead, she reached behind her back and slowly dragged the zipper of her dress down. The fabric peeled away like it had been