All Chapters of Make Me Wet (An Erotica Collection): Chapter 41 - Chapter 50

Chapter 11Richard's strong hands guided me forward; my steps were unsteady beneath the blindfold, and the silk was soft against my skin. His fingers flexed against my waist, possessive yet tender, as if he were memorising the curve of my hip through the thin lace of my dress. "We're here," he murmured, his voice a low rumble that sent a shiver down my spine. The blindfold loosened, the silk slipping away as he untied it with deliberate slowness. I blinked, my vision swimming as the villa came into focus, a beautiful sanctuary bathed in golden candlelight. Every surface dripped with flowers, their petals scattered like confetti across polished wood and plush fabrics. The air was thick with the scent of jasmine and roses. Richard stood before me, his linen shirt clinging to the broad expanse of his chest, the fabric so white it nearly glowed against his sun-kissed skin. His shorts hung low on his hips, the outline of his cock already stirring beneath the fabric. My breath hitched,

Chapter 2My hands shook as I rose to my feet; my legs were unsteady. My fingers fumbled with the buttons of my blouse, each one undoing with a soft click that echoed in the silent room. The fabric slid off my shoulders, pooling at my feet, leaving me in nothing but my lace bra and skirt. Damien's eyes darkened, his cock twitching as he reached behind me to unclasp my bra, letting it fall away. My breasts spilled free, full and heavy, my nipples tight, painful peaks. Damien's breath hitched, his hand tightening around his shaft. "Fuck, you're perfect," he murmured, more to himself than to me. My cheeks burned, but I didn't stop. My skirt unzipped, the fabric falling down my thighs, leaving me in nothing but my soaked panties. I hooked my thumbs into the waistband, hesitating a bit, then I found the courage and dragged them down, stepping out of them. Damien's gaze basically devoured me, lingering on the dark curls between my thighs, the way my pussy glistened, already wet and rea

Chapter 4I stood at the backstage in the auditorium, and from here I could smell popcorn and perfume. My hands trembled as I smoothed the fabric of the red dress over my hips. The material clung to me like a second skin; the neckline dipped low enough to show a small amount of cleavage, and the hem rode high when I moved. I hadn't worn panties. Couldn't. Not after Damien's command, not with the way my body had reacted to the thought of him finding out if I disobeyed. The auditorium lights turned off, and the stage lights turned on. The crowd's murmurs went silent as the first act took the stage. My stomach twisted, and my pulse hammered in my throat. I could feel him out there. I could practically taste his smug satisfaction; he was twisted, sick, and I hated that I liked it. Then snap. The sound cut through the noise, sharp and commanding. My breath hitched. He wanted me out there. I didn't have to look to know. My body reacted before my mind could catch up; my legs carried me

Chapter 6The stage lights blazed down, casting my flushed skin in a golden glow as the crowd's murmurs swelled into a hungry roar. Damian's fingers tightened around my waist, his touch possessive, his breath hot against my ear as he leaned in."Ladies and gentlemen," he purred, his voice carrying effortlessly over the hum of anticipation, "tonight's entertainment is about to begin. And this time, you get a live performance; you get to call the shots." A ripple of excitement coursed through the audience, their eyes locking onto my trembling body. I could feel their gazes like hungry wolves, lingering on the curve of my hips, the swell of my breasts barely contained by the flimsy scrap of lace Damian had forced me into, the way my thighs pressed together as if that could hide the shameful wetness between them. The thong did little to conceal anything, the thin fabric clinging to my pussy lips, already damp with arousal I couldn't control. Damian's grip shifted, his fingers digging

Chapter 2 The air outside the academy is cold enough to bite, but Elliot is warm beside me, practically dragging me toward the waiting Uber he ordered before I even agreed to go out. That’s Elliot, always two steps ahead, always with glitter in his veins.We slide into the backseat together, and he gives the driver the address of the underground club in a low, conspiratorial voice, like he’s sending us to a secret kingdom.As the car pulls off, Paris unfolds around us like a postcard dipped in gold.From my window, I watch the night swaddle the city in utter darkness. Streetlamps paint long amber strokes across the pavement. Cafés have warm light on that reflects onto the sidewalks. The Eiffel Tower looms in the distance, shimmering and alive, casting its glow over everything like a guardian watching from above.Car headlights streak by in streams of white and red, painting the city in motion. Paris feels alive, breathless, sacred. I’ll definitely miss it here. I lean my forehea