EDEN: Steamy Forbidden Pleasures のすべてのチャプター: チャプター 1 - チャプター 10

~Mia's POV~ The vibrator made a low, frantic buzzing sound, a persistent companion in my private misery, as I rotated it in a slow, circular motion against my already wet and throbbing pussy. My legs were spread apart, splayed on the silk sheets, toes curled up until the arches of my feet ached, as my eyes fluttered half open from the exciting pleasure now stimulating through me like electric shock waves. I was chasing a release, a violent, desperate one. “Fuck…” I moaned, a soft, strangled cry tearing out of me. It was a word of pure, unadulterated need. This little battery powered device had been my only companion, my only savior, and the closest I’d had to a genuine, soul-shaking orgasm in three, brutally long and lonely years of being married to my husband, Ethan Monroe. He was a man who had only touched me...really touched me...a handful of times since we’d exchanged our vows at the altar. The first year of our marriage had been good, even great, in terms of our sex lif

A dark, dangerous sound...half growl, half triumph...tore from his throat. My brazenness had clearly pushed him over the edge. In one swift, primal motion, he pulled my face closer and crashed his lips onto mine. The kiss wasn't a gentle meeting; it was an act of possession, an urgent, lustful assault. His mouth molded roughly to mine, and he sucked possessively on my lower lip, then my upper, drawing me in as a starved man takes a meal. His tongue plunged in, thick and demanding, swirling fiercely against mine, biting teasingly as our mouths became a mess of hot breath and desperate need. He devoured my gasp as he finally broke the kiss, pulling back just enough for me to see the feral glint in his eyes. I was left gasping for air, the impact and urgency of the moment leaving me dizzy. He smirked, a slow, sly curve of his lips that was pure predatory satisfaction, and then his eyes trailed down, assessing my lace-clad body on the table. He didn't hesitate. With a decisive t

~Samantha's POV~“Room 69, please,” I announce to the receptionist sitting behind the counter in the massive lobby.“Just a moment, Miss,” she responded, right after raising her head to look at me, before picking up the telephone on the desk and making a quick call. When she was done, she flashed a smile and slid a key card in my direction.“He’s expecting you,” she said for a final time. I offered a small smile back, picked up the key, and headed straight for the elevator. As soon as it dings open, I stepped inside, preparing to face the man upstairs.Mason. My best friend… Macy's older brother, and my exclusive client for almost a year.It wasn't always like this.A year and a half ago, I was just Samantha Miller, the girl who’d finally gotten her ticket out. A letter of acceptance to State University, a full scholarship for my grades, and a future that felt bright and certain. I’d grown up knowing the value of a dollar....my parents were the kind of working class people who stretch

He didn't speak, not at first. He simply held my hips captive against the cold wood edge and moved. Slowly. It was an agonizing, deliberate rhythm, deep, hot, and full. He would pull out almost entirely, letting the friction build, and then slam back into my deepest point, drawing a guttural, wounded sound from me every time.My hands squeezed the counter's edge, my knuckles white, trying to anchor myself in the room, but the pleasure was already lifting me.“Look at me, Samantha,” he finally grated out, the words tasting like metal and whiskey. His hips were pulling back, and then driving forward, each thrust a statement of ownership.His left hand shot up, abandoning my thigh. His fingers twined into the hair at the back of my head, just above the nape of my neck, and yanked back, forcing my head up and my chin out. My eyes flew open, the sudden, painful pressure in my scalp serving only to heighten the blinding pleasure he was driving into my core.“Don’t look away,” he hissed, his

His words were a jolt, a sudden, searing current that shot straight through me. The air in the office had turned thick, charged with something palpable and dangerous. I blinked, my mind reeling, trying to reconcile the image of the stoic, unattainable professor with the man who had just whispered such a blatant, illicit proposition. “Please….please you, sir?” The question was out before I could censor it, laced with confusion and a tremor of something I didn’t dare name.Mr. Sinclair’s eyes...intense, hungry, and entirely devoid of the detached indifference he usually wore, roamed over my face. He didn't move any further, but the sheer proximity was enough to make my knees feel weak. The chiseled contours of his chest, beneath the crisp white of his dress shirt, seemed impossibly close. “I think you understand perfectly, Cassandra,” he murmured, his thumb tracing a feather-light path along my jawline, a touch that sent a shiver down my spine. The familiarity of him using my first na