All Chapters of 100 NIGHTS OF SIN: EROTICA SHORT STORIES : Chapter 21 - Chapter 30

"Please, Luca, don't stop! Ahh!" I begged. Another moan escaped as the build-up made every thrust better, and my horniness peaked again.


The pool lights filtered through the curtains, casting shadows over his body. Sweat beaded on his skin while he fucked me through another climax. My nails dug into his shoulders until I drew blood. "Ryan's never made me come like this," I gasped. The words spilled out as his mouth crashed onto mine, swallowing my moans. God, this felt so much better than anything with Ryan. I was so fucking horny, and I needed it all.


He confessed too, his voice rough. "I saw you by the pool yesterday and wanted to bend you over right there." His pace grew erratic, hips slamming into mine. "This pussy's mine tonight."


We moved again, my back against the cabana's wooden frame. One leg hitched high around his waist as he fucked me standing, gravity pulling him deeper with each thrust. "Yes, harder! Ohh," I whimpered. The angle was good, and it made my arousal str

The coat whispered against my skin as it slipped off my shoulders, pooling at my feet like a spilled secret. The air in his hallway was cooler than mine, carrying a faint scent of his cologne, musky, with hints of sandalwood that made my head spin. I stood there naked, my nipples tightening into hard peaks from the chill, my pussy already throbbing, slick warmth trickling down my inner thighs. Every breath I took felt heavy, loaded with anticipation of what was to come.


Nick’s eyes raked over me, dark and feral, his chest rising and falling fast. He slammed the door shut with a thud that echoed through the apartment, then he was on me in an instant. His hands were rough, calloused from whatever work he did, gripping my arms as he pinned me against the wall. The wood was cold and smooth against my back, a stark contrast to the heat of his body pressing into mine. He kissed me hard, his lips demanding, tasting of mint and raw hunger. His tongue invaded my mouth, tangling with mine,

A sharp knock at the front door froze us all.
My breath hitched. "No. No, no, no—" Lily was supposed to be asleep. Derek’s cock slid out of me with a wet sound, and Jace yanked his hand away like he’d been burned. The three of us scrambled, me grabbing my discarded robe, the boys snatching their boxers just as the knock came again, harder this time.
"Jennifer? You decent?" The voice was deep, unfamiliar, and laced with amusement. "Open up. I know you’re in there."
My stomach dropped. Oh God. That voice, smooth, commanding, with just a hint of a Southern drawl belonged to one person. Mark.
Mark fucking Calloway.
My ex-husband’s best friend. The man who’d been at our wedding, who’d watched our marriage crumble, who’d always looked at me like he wanted to devour me whole. The man I’d fantasized about more times than I’d ever admit.
Derek and Jace exchanged a glance, their expressions shifting from panic to something far more dangerous interest. Derek smirked, tugging his boxers on



The water heater gave up the ghost on Thanksgiving morning with a sad metallic cough. 
Mom and Rick were already backing out of the driveway, waving through the window, off to their seven-day cruise. 
“Plumber’s booked solid until Monday,” Jake called from the kitchen, phone still in hand. “Only the master bath has hot water. Guess we’re sharing.”
Four adults. One shower. An entire week.
I lasted until 11 p.m. before I caved. Everyone else had crashed early, stuffed with turkey and beer, so the hallway was dark and quiet when I slipped into the master bath. The room still carried Jake’s scent cedar, ocean, something dangerously male and the mirror was fogged from his shower twenty minutes earlier. I tried not to picture him in here, water running down the cut lines of his abs, hand braced on the tile, head tipped back…
I locked the door. Or thought I did.
The hot spray felt like heaven on my shoulders. I closed my eyes, let the water drum against my neck, and told myself I was



The blizzard outside was wild and fierce, throwing snow and ice against the windows. Inside the Thorne house, everything looked festive: white lights hung over the stairs, cinnamon candles burned everywhere, and a fake fireplace played on the TV. Our parents had planned the perfect Christmas vacation together: two families, one expensive cabin in the Cascades mountains, three days of hot chocolate, sleigh rides, and plenty of sweet holiday moments.


It was time to leave, but just one thing was holding us back. 
I was slouched against the wall, half-listening to Dad and Mr. Thorne debate snow-chain brands like it was the Super Bowl, when Mrs. Thorne let out a dramatic sigh. 
“Caleb, sweetheart,” she said, turning those hopeful auntie eyes on me, “could you run upstairs and haul Wendy down? She swore she’d be ready ten minutes ago, and we’re already late.” 
Wendy was my next door neighbour who i grew up with, and everyone knew how long she took before getting ready. 
I flashed