บททั้งหมดของ 100 NIGHTS OF SIN: EROTICA SHORT STORIES : บทที่ 31 - บทที่ 40

I’d been plotting this all morning, ever since I heard Mom and my stepdad leave for their big Christmas shopping trip. The house was finally empty except for Ethan, my stepbrother, and his best friend Mason, both home from college and sprawled in the living room playing video games like they owned the place.


They walked around shirtless, with tattoes littered over their skin, their muscles teasing as they flexed while playing games. They made me so hot and bothered, I needed them so bad. 


I wanted them to notice me. No, I wanted them to lose control over me.


I picked the shortest pleated black skirt I owned, the kind that flipped up with the slightest breeze, and paired it with a tiny red lace thong that barely qualified as underwear. A tight white crop top finished it off, thin enough that my nipples poked through if I got excited. Which I already was.


Phase one: get their attention. I carried a heavy box of Christmas decorations into the living room and “accidentally” droppe

He clamped a hand over my mouth, eyes locking on mine with a warning. Slowly, he started thrusting again, shallow and quiet, grinding deep without pulling out far. The friction on my clit from his pubic bone made me tremble, but I bit down on his palm to stay silent.
“Yeah, I’m here,” he called back, voice steady even as he rolled his hips into me. “Gym’s closed up. Check lost and found tomorrow.”
The knob rattled. “Can you let me in quick? I need it for my run.”
He thrust a little harder, making my eyes water with the effort to not moan. His free hand pinched my nipple, twisting it as he ground deeper, building me toward release silently.
“Busy with paperwork,” he replied. “Come back later.”
“But coach-“
“Come back later.” He pounded hard, causing me to clench against him. 
Footsteps faded away after a pause. The second they did, he removed his hand and pounded into me hard, the desk shaking. “Come for me,” he growled.
I did, pussy clenching around him in waves, muffling my cry

“Mia, Jax—go get more firewood before it gets dark,” my dad called from where he was setting up the campfire.


I groaned. “Can’t he go alone?”


“Family bonding, remember?” My dad gave me that look that meant don’t argue.


Jax was already walking toward the tree line, not even waiting for me. I grabbed the canvas bag and followed, keeping distance between us.


We’d been on this trip for two days and I was ready to fake appendicitis to get airlifted out. My dad and his new wife, Jax’s mom—kept forcing us together like we’d magically become best friends instead of two people who couldn’t stand each other.


I hated Jax and tfhat wasnt going to change


The woods were dense here, quiet except for birds and our footsteps on fallen pine needles. Jax moved ahead, his flannel shirt stretched across his shoulders as he bent to grab a piece of wood.


“Could you at least pretend to help?” he said without looking back.


“I’m here, aren’t I?”


“Physically. Your attitude stayed back at the t

The building was emptying out. Past nine on a Friday, and the 42nd floor of Voss Tower was already dark except for the amber glow spilling from Elias Voss’s corner office.I was still at my desk. Day three as his executive assistant, racing to finish the merger deck he’d requested “before you leave, preferably tonight.” My eyes burned. My shoulders ached. But I’d almost proven I could handle this job.I hit send at 9:17 p.m., grabbed my coat and bag, and practically ran for the private elevator before he could find something else that needed doing.The doors slid open with a soft chime.He was already inside.Shit.Elias Voss. Thirty-six. Six-four. The kind of man business magazines called “devastating” and then scrambled for new adjectives. Tonight his charcoal suit jacket was gone, tie loosened, sleeves rolled to reveal forearms that had no business being that distracting. Dark hair slightly mussed like he’d been running his hands through it.He smelled like cedar and something dark

The bass pounded through my chest like a second heartbeat, vibrating in my teeth, shaking something loose inside me.I hadn’t meant to end up here.Mia had practically dragged me out the door, insisting I needed to “snap out of it.” Six months post-breakup and I was still cycling through the same pathetic routine—work, couch, wine, sleep, repeat. “This place will wake you up,” she’d promised, that dangerous glint in her eye. “It’s not your average bar.”Understatement of the fucking century.The air was thick with sweat and leather and something muskier underneath. Bodies pressed close in outfits that made my plain black dress feel like a nun’s habit—harnesses cutting across bare chests, collars glinting under strobe lights, skin glistening everywhere I looked. In the shadowed alcoves along the walls, I caught glimpses of things I’d only read about. A woman on her knees, mouth full. A man with a flogger, his partner bent over a padded bench. The crack of leather on skin punctuating th