All Chapters of DRIPPING WET: A COLLECTION OF EROTICA : Chapter 211 - Chapter 220

The boat rocks dead in the water, engine cold, moon fat and silver above me. I’m at the rail, shirtless, salt crusting my skin, when she rises.No warning.Just two pale hands gripping the gunwale and then her whole naked body vaulting over the side like a blade of moonlight made flesh. Water streams off her tits, her stomach, down to the dark triangle between her thighs. Her eyes are wild green, lips parted, breath already ragged.I don’t speak. Neither does she.She stalks across the deck, bare feet slapping wet wood, and slams both palms into my chest so hard I hit the wheelhouse wall. My cock is already rock-hard, straining against my jeans. She feels it, grinds her slick pussy against the ridge once, and bites my bottom lip until I taste blood.That’s it. Game over.I grab her ass with both hands, fingers digging bruises, and lift her clean off the deck. She locks her ankles behind my back, thighs clamping like steel. I spin and slam her down onto the wide gunwale, back arched ov

The moon is a vicious scar tonight, slicing the sky wide as I steer the trawler back to the hidden cove. She’s perched on the bow, naked, water still beading on her skin from her swim to meet me. Her eyes lock on mine as I kill the engine, the boat drifting to shore with a soft crunch of gravel.I don’t wait for it to stop.I grab her by the waist, lift her off the bow like she weighs nothing, and jump the rail with her in my arms. My boots hit the riverbank hard, gravel scattering, and I carry her ten paces up the shore before slamming her back against a twisted driftwood tree. The rough bark bites her skin; she gasps, but it’s not pain—it’s fire.She wraps her legs around me, heels digging into my ass, pulling me in. I rip my shirt over my head, jeans shoved down in one rough pull, cock springing free, thick and throbbing from the sight of her. Water drips from her hair onto her tits, full and heaving, nipples hard as pebbles in the cool air.I don’t tease. I drive into her pussy in

Tonight the moon is almost gone—just a thin, dying blade of silver barely clinging to the sky. . . .The tide is the highest it’s been all week, black water roaring like it wants blood. . . .I’m standing ankle-deep in the surf when she rises.She walks out of the sea slow and deliberate, naked, moonlight gone but the water itself seems to glow around her. Her eyes are wilder than ever, green fire in the dark, tits high and heavy, nipples peaked, thighs slick with river and want. She stops a foot from me, chest heaving, and finally speaks—two words, raw and cracked from screaming my name all week. . . .“Take me.” I don’t answer with words.I grab her throat, slam her down into the shallow surf, and crush my mouth to hers. The kiss is teeth and salt and eight nights of hunger exploding at once. She claws my back, rips my shirt clean off, nails carving fresh lines through old ones. . . .I shove my jeans down, cock springing free, harder than it’s ever been. I hook her legs over my arm

The red door seals behind me once more, my skin still tingling from last night's frenzy, the club's distant pulse a seductive whisper in my ears. The room is rearranged tonight, the silk altar now surrounded by chains hanging from the ceiling, the ten masked strangers already in motion, their bodies linked in a chain of pleasure, moans echoing like a symphony. They part as I enter, eyes devouring me, and I strip slowly, my breasts bouncing free, nipples hardening under their gaze. I'm Aria, and tonight, I'm their chain.They pull me into the center, hands chaining my wrists above my head with soft velvet restraints from the ceiling, my body stretched, tits lifted high, bouncing with every breath. A tall man with a veined cock steps forward, his mouth crashing onto mine, tongue invading as his hands cup my breasts, squeezing, making them bounce in his palms. His cock presses against my thigh, hard and throbbing, while a woman with full, jiggling breasts presses behind me, her fingers s

The red door seals behind me for the sixth night, my legs already shaking from the memory of last night’s swing.Tonight the room is stripped bare except for a low, padded crucifix-shaped bench in the center, five men only, no women, five masked gods, cocks oiled and rock-hard, waiting like predators.I don’t even make it two steps before they descend.Two of them grab my arms, two my hips, and the fifth fists my hair. They lift me onto the crucifix on all fours, wrists and ankles locked into soft leather cuffs so I’m spread wide, back arched, ass high, tits hanging heavy beneath me, already bouncing from the rough handling.The first man tall, inked, thick as my forearm steps behind me.He slaps my ass once, twice, the crack echoing, then lines up and slams into my pussy so hard my whole body jolts forward. My tits swing violently, slapping together, nipples dragging across the padded leather.At the same instant, the second man (broad, pierced, cruel grin) stands in front of me, yan