Lahat ng Kabanata ng My Three Step-Uncles Want Me (The Alcatraz Brothers): Kabanata 121 - Kabanata 130

EPILOGUE The air smells like salt and the tide keeps brushing against the sand in slow, deliberate waves, retreating for a while and coming back again. I stand barefoot at the edge of it, sinking ing my toes into the wet sand as the sea breeze carries the material of my beautiful white dress light enough to move with it.Kieran is just a few feet away, talking to Noah about the music. It's our favorite but he wants to reserve it for our kiss. Noah has been our friend since we took a trip to Bali, a trip that we’d both somehow gotten lost while searching for handmade jewelry stores.The Lily I was three years ago, would have found it extremely difficult to picture any of this. Divorced but about to marry my ex-husband’s brother, a proud published erotica writer, no blood relation around weighing us down with expectations. Just Kieran, I and the family of friends we’d chosen along the way.Kieran ends the conversation with Noah and turns to look at me. A small smile lifts the corner

The knock came softly, like fingertips brushing wood, but it pulled me from the edge of a dream. The room was small, its corners still shrouded in the hour before dawn. The air smelled faintly of beeswax and old linen. A figure stood at the doorway wearing white veil and a pale face unreadable in the candle she held.“It’s time,” she said, her voice no louder than the flame’s flicker.I rose without a word, feet cold against the stone floor. A folded habit lay across the chair. I slipped into it, the coarse fabric falling heavy over my skin, swallowing me whole. The nun’s eyes lingered on me for only a moment before she turned, expecting me to follow.The hallway breathed cold, with silence that weren’t empty. They were layered, full of things unsaid, prayers whispered in places I could not see.We entered the chapel, and the world seemed to narrow to the space between each heartbeat. The walls were carved stone, damp in places, and the air carried the sharp chill of a place that had

Elsa's POv The bathroom is silent but for the soft hiss of the pipes, the occasional drip from a tap that never quite seals, the muted sigh of the wind through the cracked upper window. The air smells faintly of soap, faintly of damp stone, faintly of heat and water lingering from a dozen mornings before. I close the door behind me, turn the old brass key until it catches, and the echo of the lock feels louder than it should in this hollow space.At this time of year, no one else comes here at night. The other proselytes bathe at dawn, in groups, murmuring their prayers, their voices carrying through the steam. I have the room to myself, and the emptiness feels almost sacred, almost dangerous.My towel is loose in my fingers, slipping without my noticing until it falls to the tiles in a soft, whispering heap. I cross the short stretch to the waiting tub. The water is already drawn, faint ripples catching the light of the single candle on the wall niche.And then without warning, it s

The night pressed close around me, heavy and stifling, though I was indoors. My steps echoed hollowly down the convent’s stone corridor, each strike of heel on tile like the knell of a bell tolling my guilt. I could still feel him—Father Roman—his voice thick with restraint, his eyes burning behind the grate as though they pierced through cloth, through skin, through soul. What had I done? My hands trembled at my sides as if they still bore the memory of the air between us, charged, forbidden, seared with a heat that left me both ruined and alive.I pressed my palm to my chest, as though to cage the frantic thudding of my heart. It felt like a wild creature, battering itself against my ribs, frantic to escape, to expose me. The hall stretched before me in endless gloom, the painted saints glaring down from their frames with sorrow and condemnation. I lowered my head beneath their gaze, but even then I could not escape the sound of my own body—each echo, each breath—accusing me of sin.

Grace heard Catherine gasp and watched with satisfaction as the woman's cunt visibly clenched, pulsing with wanton desire. "There is, of course, a caveat. If you cum before you finish your prayer, that will be your final confession of the night. If you're faithful and devout enough to make it all the way through, well...the meek shall inherit as many earth-shattering orgasms as her sinner's flesh can handle!""Ohh God, I don't know if I can manage that, My Grace..." Catherine trailed off in despair, her legs trembling as she fought the urge to squirm."There's only one way to find out, my child. Now, I'm feeling merciful, so I'll start you off." With a booming voice, Grace continued, "Hail Catherine, who will be full of Grace...!"Catherine bolted upright, propping herself up on her elbows to stare dumbfoundedly at the woman sitting between her spread legs. In her distraction, she broke character, switching from penitent nun to flabbergasted kinkster."Did you really just...did you ma