All Chapters of Make Me Yours (A Steamy Collection): Chapter 101 - Chapter 110

Chapter 5The scent of roasted beef and red wine lingered in the air, mingling with the faintest hint of my perfume, something floral, delicate, the kind of fragrance that made Ken’s fingers twitch with the need to ruin it all. I sat across from him, my hands folded neatly in my lap, but my eyes betrayed me. They flicked to his for the briefest second, dark and hungry, before darting away again. That was all the invitation he needed.Ken’s gaze locked onto mine, unblinking, Now. His fingers curled around the edge of the tablecloth, knuckles whitening for just a moment before he let his hand slip beneath the table, disappearing into the dark space between them. My breath hitched, my chest rising just a fraction higher, but I didn’t pull away. I never did.His palm found my thigh first, his fingers splaying wide, gripping the soft flesh just above my knee with enough pressure to leave marks. I shifted in my seat, my skirt riding up just an inch, granting him access. His hand slid high

Chapter 7The bathroom was thick with steam, the air heavy with the scent of lavender and vanilla, primal. I had been soaking for nearly twenty minutes; my body, deep inside the water, was up to my collarbone, and the water was just warm enough to ease the tension in my muscles. The door had been locked… or so I thought. The sudden creak of it made my head snap up, my fingers tightening around the edge of the tub.Ken stood in the doorway, his broad frame filling the space, his dark eyes locked onto me. His chest rose and fell with a slow, deliberate breath, his gaze tracing the curve of my shoulders, the swell of my breasts just beneath the water’s surface. My pulse spiked, my nipples tightening into stiff peaks as the cool air hit them. I should’ve demanded he leave. But the words died in my throat as he reached behind his neck, gripping the hem of his shirt, and peeled it off in one fluid motion.He was my stepbrother. It was unfair that he was this sexy. His torso was all sharp

Chapter 1 I sat in the front pew, my fingers clenched around the worn leather of my journal, the pages filled with notes I no longer remembered writing. I had come here to pray. Or so I told myself.The creak of the chapel opened, and I stiffened, my breath catching as the slow, deliberate tread of boots echoed down the aisle. Father Damian. I didn’t need to turn to know it was him; his presence was enough.I kept my gaze fixed on the altar, my fingers twisting the rosary beads at my waist. The footsteps stopped just behind me. Close enough that I could feel the warmth of his body, the faintest brush of his robes against the back of the pew. My pulse hammered in my throat, my lips parting as I forced myself to speak.“Father Damian,” I whispered, my voice barely more than a breath. “I—I didn’t hear you come in.”He didn’t answer at first. Instead, I heard the slow exhale of his breath, the rustle of fabric as he shifted his body. Then, his voice…deep and rough, “Alexis.”My nam

Chapter 3 My dress was still hitched around my waist, my thighs slick with arousal. The weight of what we were doing pressed down on me, but it only made me wetter, my body aching for more. Damian stood behind me, his breath hot against the back of my neck as he leaned in. I could feel the crucifix before he even touched me. Then, the cold metal pressed against my bare skin, the jagged edges biting into the delicate flesh of my neck. A shiver ran down my spine, my nipples hardening beneath the thin fabric of my dress. His hands slid around my waist, fingers digging into my hips, pulling me back against him. The difference was intoxicating, the warmth of his palms and the icy feel of the relic, the way his cock, already half-hard again, pressed against my ass through his trousers. “You feel that?” His voice was a low growl, rough with desire. “The weight of it? The way it marks you?” His lips brushed the shell of my ear, his words sending another shudder through me. “This isn’

Chapter 5I remained motionless, my breath shallow, my fingers laced together in my lap as I knelt on the cold wooden floorboards. Father Damian stood before me, his cassock draped over his broad shoulders. I kept my gaze fixed on the floor, but I could feel him, his heat, the way his breath. It’s like my body and mind had already recognised him.His fingers twitched at his sides, as if resisting the urge to reach for me.“Look at me, Alexis,” he commanded, his voice deep and low.I obeyed, lifting my chin just enough to meet his gaze. His eyes were dark, unreadable, the pupils swallowed by the dim light. There was no kindness in them. Only hunger and ownership.“You’ve been thinking about this, haven’t you?” His hand lifted, knuckles grazing my cheek before his fingers curled into the fabric at my throat. “About what comes next.” He didn’t phrase it as a question. He already knew.I swallowed, my pulse fluttering against his touch. “Y-yes, Father.”A slow, knowing smirk tugged at