Todos os capítulos de All Yours (An Erotica Collection): Capítulo 61 - Capítulo 70

The rain is coming down in sheets when I finally make it to his porch. My wedding dress is ruined—white satin turned translucent and gray with mud, the long train dragging behind me like a ghost. The veil is long gone, ripped away somewhere between the church parking lot and the three miles I ran barefoot through the storm. My feet are bleeding, hair plastered to my face, makeup streaked down my cheeks in black rivers. I don’t know why I came here. Theo lives next door to my parents house—the quiet, older neighbor who has always been kind in that distant way. Mowed his lawn on Sundays, waved when he saw me, once fixed my bike tire when I was twelve without making a big deal of it. He is in his late forties, tall, broad-shouldered, with salt-and-pepper hair and kind gray eyes I have caught watching me sometimes when I was home from college. I have had a silly crush on him for years. Harmless. Until tonight, when the thought of marrying Mark—of spending my life trapped in that cold

My name is Riley, and today is the day Roman gets out. I have been counting down for three years, two months, and fourteen days—ever since the judge’s gavel fell and they took him away in chains for a crime he swears he didn’t commit. Armed robbery. Ten years reduced to four with good behavior and a letter-writing campaign led by an eighteen-year-old girl who barely knew what she was doing. Me. It started with a school project—write to a prisoner, learn about the justice system. I picked his name off a list because his mugshot looked sad, not scary. Dark hair, sharp jaw, eyes that stared straight into the camera like he was daring the world to blink first. I wrote a stupid letter: Hi, my name is Riley, I am a senior, I like books and coffee, how are you? He wrote back three pages—tight, angry handwriting that somehow still felt careful. Told me about growing up rough, about protecting his little sister, about how the system chews up men like him. Called me “little girl” at the e

Natalia stepped out of the elevator on the 32nd floor, heels clicking sharp against the floor. Friday, 6:02 p.m. The city sparkled beyond the glass walls of the penthouse lobby, but her eyes went straight to the only door at the end of the hall. She didn’t knock. She used the key he’d left under the mat last month. The moment the door opened, warm low lights and the scent of sandalwood and leather hit her. Finn was waiting—shirtless, low-slung gray sweats, barefoot, leaning against the kitchen counter with a glass of red in one hand. Twenty-six, lean muscle, messy dark hair, that half-smile that always made her stomach flip. “Traffic bad?” he asked, voice soft. “Terrible,” she said, kicking the door shut behind her. “But I am here now.” He set the glass down, crossed the room in three strides, and dropped to his knees right in front of her. Natalia’s breath hitched. Every Friday it still hit her the same way—how fast he gave himself over. She threaded fingers through his hair,

This book is intentionally divided into two parts. Part One — The Daddy Diaries contains 67 chapters focused on consensual power exchange between adults, including traditional Daddy kink (DDLG) as well as reverse or gender-flipped dynamics (MMLG), where roles are chosen freely. Part Two marks the beginning of All Yours as a broader erotica collection. These stories explore different fantasies, taboos, and power dynamics, all centered on desire, control, consent, and obsession. If Daddy kink or role-reversal dynamics are your preference, Part One offers a complete experience. If you are curious to explore more, Part Two is waiting. Thank you for reading. — Skye

The fire crackled in the massive stone hearth, casting flickering shadows across the living room walls. Outside, the blizzard raged on, wind screaming against the windows, but inside the old estate, the air was thick with heat—of the flames, of their bodies, of the dangerous thing they’d unleashed in the kitchen an hour ago.Mary sat curled on the oversized leather sofa, wrapped in nothing but Luca’s charcoal sweater, the hem brushing mid-thigh. Her skin still tingled from his mouth, his hands, the way he’d taken her like he’d been waiting his entire life to do it. She could still feel him inside her—deep, stretching, owning. A slow throb pulsed between her legs, a delicious ache that made her shift restlessly.Luca stood at the bar cart across the room, pouring two glasses of bourbon. Shirtless now, his back to her, the firelight tracing the hard lines of muscle along his shoulders and spine. Jeans hung low on his hips, revealing the deep V that disappeared beneath the waistband. He