جميع فصول : الفصل -الفصل 260

Chapter 3The Prince’s PovThe desk groans under Lyselle’s weight as I drive into her again, my cock buried to the hilt, her tight little cunt clenching around me like she never wants me to leave. Her nails rake down my back, her heels digging into the edge of the desk hard enough to leave marks in the polished wood. The firelight flickers over her skin, catching the sheen of sweat on her breasts, the way her nipples tighten every time I bottom out inside her. She’s still trembling from her last orgasm, her body oversensitive, but she takes me like she was made for it—like she needs it.“Fuck…Alaric!” Her voice breaks, her back arching off the desk as I grind my hips against hers, my cock hitting that spot deep inside that makes her whimper. I can feel her pulse around me, her walls fluttering, and I know she’s close again. But I’m not done with her yet.I slow my thrusts, pulling almost all the way out before slamming back in, just to hear her gasp. My fingers dig into her hips,

Chapter 5The Maids PovThe heavy oak door swings wide open and Alaric stands there with his shirt half-undone and the golden embroidery along the cuffs catching the torchlight. His gaze locks onto me, dark and hungry, and something inside me clenches. He doesn’t even glance at Mira. "You’re late," he says, voice rough as gravel, and the way his thumb hooks into the waistband of his trousers…fuck, I know what that means. My thighs press together before I can stop them.Mira’s grip on my wrist tightens. "Late for what—" Her words cut off sharp as she follows my line of sight past Alaric, into the chamber beyond.The fire in the hearth has burned low, casting long shadows over the desk…my desk, the one he bent me over just last night, the wood still scored with the imprint of my nails. The inkwell is knocked aside, black ink staining the floor And there, half-hidden behind the heavy drapes, is my discarded apron, the ties snapped.Mira’s breath hisses through her teeth. "Oh, you stupi

Chapter 2I want to deny it. I open my mouth to shape the words, and Dante's finger presses harder against my throat, silencing me with the promise of pressure rather than its application. My pulse hammers against his leather-clad skin, a Morse code I can't control, broadcasting everything I need to conceal."Listen to her heart." Dante addresses the others as if I were equipment, machinery requiring calibration. "It speaks more honestly than she will. Fear, yes. But beneath it.." his head tilts, that mechanical assessment softening into something more difficult to read "something else. Something that doesn't know whether to fight or surrender because it has never been offered the choice.""Then we offer it." Vittorio's grip in my hair tightens, His other hand rises to my face, turning my chin until I meet his eyes for the first time. What I find there stops my breath more thoroughly than any threat. Hunger, held in ruthless check. Want, directed with surgical precision. The terri

Chapter 4Vittorio’s grip tightens for a little bit before he releases me, stepping aside with a grunt. The loss of his heat is immediate, but Alessio is there, his hand replacing Vittorio’s at the small of my back, steering me up the stairs and into the jet’s cabin.The interior is all cream leather and polished wood, the kind of luxury that screams old money, There’s a bed in the back—king-sized, rumpled, the sheets black silk. My pulse kicks up. Of course there’s a bed. Of course it’s already been used. The thought of them in here without me, their bodies tangled, their hands rough on each other, sends a traitorous rush of heat between my thighs.Dante takes the seat across from me, his long legs spread, his tie already loosened. He watches me with the same detached intensity he uses when he’s about to gut a man. "You’ll sit with me," he says. Alessio chuckles, dropping into the seat beside me before I can move. His thigh presses against mine, the heat of him seeping through the

Chapter 6My skin is slick with sweat and their release, my thighs trembling, my breath coming in ragged gasps. I don’t even have the strength to lift my head when the soft click of the cabin door unlocking cuts through the roar of the engines.My muscles tense instinctively, but before I can react, the door slides open just enough for the stewardess to slip back inside, her arms carefully balancing a silver ice bucket with a champagne bottle nestled inside. Her gaze flicks up, just for a second and her breath catches. The bucket tilts as her eyes widen, taking in the scene: me, naked and wrecked, the sheets beneath me damp with fluids that aren’t just mine, the three men looming over me like predators who’ve just finished feeding. Vittorio is still half-hard, his cock glistening as he tucks it back into his slacks with a slow, deliberate motion. Alessio’s fingers trace idle patterns over my hip, his touch possessive even in laziness. And Dante, Dante stands near the window, his s