Semua Bab Dirty Little Lessons (An Erotica Collection): Bab 21 - Bab 30

Lucas’s POVShe was on her knees in front of me, right where I wanted her. The chair felt hard under my ass, the leather sticking to my skin because the room was hot and thick with the smell of rain, smoke, and her arousal.Isabella. My little princess. The nurse outfit clung to her like it was a second skin, with a tiny skirt barely covering her ass, white stockings up high into her thighs, the top so tight her nipples poked through like they were begging for my mouth. Her hair was messy, the nurse cap tilted to one side, and her lips, God, those lips, were pouty and wet, parted just enough for me to see the pink of her tongue.My cock was out, hard and heavy in my hand. The second I pulled it free, it slapped against my stomach with a wet sound. The tattoo—a black serpent that started at the base and curled all the way to the tip, glistened under the light, with pre-cum right on the slit. The ink looked alive, like it was moving with every throb. Her eyes we

Lucas’s POVShe was knocked out again, curled into my chest like a kitten, her breath soft and warm against my skin. The tray of half-eaten eggs and toast sat on the nightstand, the remaining coffee had gone cold. I fed her every bite with my fingers, watching her tongue dart out to catch crumbs, her lips closing around my thumb like it was the sweetest thing she’d ever tasted. Now her lashes fluttered against my collarbone, her body limp and trusting, the collar around her throat rising and falling with each slow breath.I eased out from under her, careful not to wake her. My legs were stiff, my cock half-hard again just from the heat of her pressed against me. The room smelled like us, like sex, sweat, cum, and that faint vanilla from her hair. I padded barefoot to the bathroom, the marble cold under my soles. Turned the tap to hot, let the water run until steam curled up, then soaked a thick white towel. Wringed it out. Steam rose off the fabric like smoke.Back in the bedroom, she

Night fell, a sandstorm raged beyond the glass, turning the city into an orange blur. Ahmed loved storms, he said they matched the chaos he created in my body.He led me to the observatory deck on floor 80, a circular room with a domed ceiling that could project any sky. Tonight, it showed the storm in real time, lightning cracking over the dunes.In the center, the sybian. Modified, of course, his engineers had added biometric sensors, a fucking machine arm, and a collar-sync that adjusted intensity to my heartbeat automatically.“Mount it,” he said.I straddled the beast. The dildo attachment was huge, a veined silicone, already slick with lube. A secondary arm held a clit sucker. Ahmed secured my ankles to the base, and my wrists to a bar above my head. Blindfold back on.“The safe word is ‘red.’ But you won’t use it.”The machine started at 90 bpm, gentle pulses. I rocked my hips, moaning as the dildo filled me inch by inch.100 bpm, it got faster. The clit sucker latched on, rhyt

The elevator climbed the forty-two floors of the glass building slowly. I watched the numbers tick upward, red digits changing and reflecting in my black sheath dress, my hair twisted tight, the same grey cashmere scarf the Brit had texted about knotted at my throat. I hadn’t texted him back to thank him for having it delivered to me, I couldn’t. Not with Julian’s cedar scent still clinging to my sense from last night at the attic, from the way his thumb had pressed my pulse until I felt it in my teeth.Julian stood beside me, one hand in the pocket of his suit, the other curled around a paper cup of coffee. No lid. Steam curled between us like a question neither of us would ask.The doors slid open onto the law firm’s reception. Mahogany and brass, everything in the space screamed of money. A receptionist with a smile sharp enough to cut glass greeted us. “Mr. Voss, Ms. Harlow. This way.”We followed her down a corridor lined with abstract art that looked like they cost more than my

Julian didn’t let my feet touch the floor. He scooped me off the island like I was made of paper, my legs still shaking around his hips, his cock half-hard and coated in us, with cum smeared between my thighs. The stairs creaked under his weight, every step drove him deeper, the head nudging my cervix until I whimpered into his neck, tasting his sweat and the faint copper of my own blood from where he’d bitten my lip.He kicked the bathroom door open. Tiles slapped cold against my soles when he set me down. The claw-foot tub gleaming under the light. He twisted the taps and water roared out, steam curling thick, he dropped a little eucalyptus oil into the water, the oil slicking the surface until the air smelt sharp.“Get in, little sister,” he ordered. “Gonna wash my cum out of that greedy cunt before I fill it again.”I stepped in. Water scalded, perfect, lapping at my thighs, my waist, my tits. He slid in behind me, his knees bracketing mine, cock nestling thick and hot against t