Semua Bab Ignite me (A collection of Short Erotica): Bab 61 - Bab 70

~Isabella~ The elevator ride up to Mr WhitFord's penthouse feels endless, each floor ticking by like a countdown to something I can't quite name. My body still throbs from what happened in his office earlier, the way he had me on his lap, his dick pushing into me without mercy, then that risky blow job under his desk while his partner talked business, and finally the hard fuck over his desk that left me shaking. Every one of my muscles aches. But mostly, it's this deep, nagging heat between my legs that won't quit. I'm horny as hell, replaying it all in my head. The stretch when he first entered me, the wet pull of his cock sliding out and slamming back. But mixed in with the lust is this confusion, this pull that scares me. Why me? Out of all the women he could have—executives, models—he picks the intern who's barely got her foot in the door. What does he want beyond just fucking me? Am I just a toy for him to play with until he gets bored? I step out of the elevator and I see

~Isabella~Ryan lowers me onto the bed gently, and his length slips out of my pussy. The emptiness is so frustrating and pleasure deriving so I sit up quickly and find his cock, guiding it to my pussy. He stays buried deep as he settles between my legs in missionary position. Our bodies are pressed together, skin to skin, and he captures my mouth in a deep kiss before starting to move again. "Hey, look at me. I wanna see those pretty eyes," he commands in a low voice, almost a whisper, his eyes dark with lust, and I do, locking gazes as he begins with slow, long strokes that let me feel every single inch of him. He pulls out almost completely, the head of his cock teasing my entrance, making me whine at the sudden emptiness, my pussy clenching to try and keep him in. Then he slides back in smooth and deep, grinding his hips at the end to press himself against my clit, the friction making me gasp.The sensation is different now, more intimate—his weight on me, pinning me down, our bod

~Isabella~Ryan's face buries in my neck as he starts moving. Fast and brutal now, chasing his own release. Each slam releases deep grunts out of him, his cock plunging deep, balls slapping against my ass with wet smacks, the force rocking the bed frame against the wall. My pussy is on fire, aching from all his intense pounding. “Please” I beg, my nails raking down his back, the plea spilling out in desperate gasps. He roars in response, his thrusts turning erratic, harder, hips snapping forward with punishing force until he buries himself deep one last time, and pulls out quickly, his cock throbbing and spurting rope of cums on my body, decorating it.“Ah” He collapses beside me, panting hard. Our bodies are sticky with sweat, exhausted. The sheets twisted and damp around us. My heart races like a drum, chest heaving as I try to catch my breath.But Ryan isn't done yet, his hunger seems endless, a fire that just keeps reigniting. After our breaths steady a bit, he starts kissing

~Kiera~This is my last season. Senior year, the final run at nationals, the last chance to turn four years of blood, sweat, and endless pain into something that actually matters. I've been running since I was twelve, and track was the one thing that made sense when everything else in my life felt like it was crumbling. The steady rhythm of my feet pounding the ground, the sharp burn in my lungs that drowned out the noise in my head, that split second when everything clicks and you feel like you're flying. It's addictive. But this year, that click is nowhere to be found. My times are stuck in the mud, no matter how many extra reps I grind out, how many ice baths I endure until my teeth chatter, or how many nights I stay late on the track long after the sun's dipped below the horizon. The clock doesn't budge, and it's driving me insane.The stadium lights buzz overhead. The team's long gone—showered, changed, probably hitting up some party or crashing in their dorms by now. It's just m

~Theodore~I sit in my office at 7:17 p.m., my thoughts fixed on last night’s gym session with Kiera. The way she settled into the blocks, the moment my hands gripped her hips, my thumbs pressing into the crease where her shorts met her skin, tilting her pelvis forward only for her to push back into the pressure with wet heat soaking through her thigh onto my palm.At twenty-two and in her senior year, Kiera is my best 400-meter runner, the one with the fastest drive phase on the team, but nationals are only three weeks away and her times have plateaued because her hips stay locked and her pelvis remains tight, costing her that explosive power out of the blocks and the sustained speed through the curve. Last night’s touches proved exactly where the weakness lives, and she needs deep release work to open those areas so she can explode off the line and hold her form longer.I pull out my phone and type quickly, sending her the text ‘Meet me in my office by 8:30 PM for a special hip mobi