All Chapters of UNTAMED DESIRES: Chapter 11 - Chapter 20

Elara’s thighs are already shaking when the second finger slides in beside the first,she’s wedged between two towering rows of law journals on the third-floor stacks of the university library the exact spot Victor specified back pressed to the cold metal shelving, short plaid skirt bunched around her hips, knees bent and trembling.Her own hand holds the hem up and out of the way while Victor kneels in front of her, two thick fingers pumping steadily into her soaked cunt, the pear from last night long since removed at dawn but the memory of its stretch still making her walls flutter around the new intrusion.She’s been like this for seven minutes.Seven minutes of silent, ruthless fingering while the low murmur of her study group drifts through the shelves two aisles over four classmates discussing torts, completely oblivious.Victor’s free hand clamps over her mouth the second she lets out the tiniest whimper, his palm smells of cedar and sex.“Shh,” he breathes against her inner th

Elara is already on her knees when the door opens.The private screening room in the back of Victor’s downtown penthouse smells of leather, expensive whiskey, dim red uplighting bathes the space in a hellish glow. Four massive recliners are arranged in a loose semi-circle facing a blank projection screen.She kneels dead center between them naked except for the black leather collar locked around her throat, wrists cuffed behind her back with thin chain that connects to a ring bolt in the floor.Her knees rest on a thick sheepskin rug that does nothing to cushion the ache already building.She’s been waiting twenty-three minutes.The toys from yesterday are gone, but her body still hums with residual sensitivity clit swollen, holes tender, skin marked with faint fingerprints from the lecture-hall aftermath.The door opens, Victor enters first, behind him, three men follow.They’re not strangers, not exactly.The first is Marcus Victor’s business partner, 29, sharp suit, sharper smile,

The blizzard screamed against the windows, but inside my apartment the only storm was the one building between us, I’d met him downstairs at O’Malley’s an hour ago. Tall, dark coat dusted with snow, blue eye, Alex. No last name. Just a low voice that said “Mind if I sit?” and then stayed for three whiskeys and half my life story. When last call came and the streets were already white hell, I heard myself say the stupidest sentence of my adult life.“Come up, It’s safer than trying to find a cab.”He didn’t speak, neither did I. We just looked at each other for one long, loaded second then collided.His mouth found mine hard, tasting of bourbon and winter, my back hit the door, coat still on, scarf half-unwound. I yanked at his collar while he shoved my coat open, hands diving under my sweater. Cold fingers met warm skin and I gasped into his kiss. He groaned low, rough, the sound vibrating straight down my spine.“Fuck,” he muttered against my lips, already walking us backward toward

The text burned into my retinas like a brand: Hope you're enjoying my husband. Merry Christmas. - LauraMy hand shook as I stared at the screen, the phone's glow casting harsh shadows in the dim bedroom. Alex's weight shifted beside me on the bed, his skin still slick against mine from our frantic coupling moments ago. The afterglow shattered like fragile glass, replaced by a cold dread twisting in my gut. Husband? The word echoed, mocking the moans I'd just let slip from my lips.Another knock thundered from the front door more insistent, like fists demanding entry. My heart lurched, pounding harder than it had when Alex was thrusting into me."What the fuck is this?" I hissed, shoving the phone at him. His eyes widened as he read it, color draining from his face."Shit..it's not…" He scrambled off the bed, grabbing his pants from the floor but before he could finish, the knocking turned to pounding, accompanied by a muffled shout: "Open up! I know you're in there!"Alex froze, halfw

The distorted voice on the phone crackled like static from the storm outside: "Don't trust Damon. He's the one who pushed her." Then the line went dead, leaving me clutching the receiver, naked and trembling in the bedroom doorway. Damon still gripped my arm, his fingers bruising from where he'd just made me come against my will or had it been? Shame burned hot in my chest, mixing with the slick between my thighs. The sirens wailed closer, red and blue lights flashing through the blinds like accusatory eyes.Damon's face twisted surprise, then rage. "Who was that?" he snarled, yanking me fully into the room and slamming the door shut. The lock clicked, but it felt futile; the police were coming, and whatever web of lies this family had spun was unraveling fast."Let go!" I wrenched free, backing toward the bed, my heart pounding. The sheet lay crumpled on the floor, leaving me exposed under his predatory gaze. He advanced, coat shedding snow like a shedding skin, revealing a build si