All Chapters of Naked Scripts (Erotica Collection): Chapter 1 - Chapter 10

MY DAD'S BEST FRIENDCHAPTER 1KAYLEEI thought I had the place to myself for two whole weeks.Dad and Lisa left for Italy this morning, Mr. Thompson (his best friend since college) was supposed to be on some trip in Canada until the end of the month. The house is huge, the pool is perfect, and I’ve been crushing on Mr. Thompson since I was old enough to know what a crush was. Tall, broad, salt-and-pepper hair, forearms that could break me in half… yeah. I’ve touched myself in his guest bed more times than I can count.So tonight, midnight, the second they’re gone, I strip completely naked on the patio. The warm August air kisses every inch of my skin. My nipples tighten instantly. I drop my phone on a lounge chair, dive into the lit-up pool, and the water feels like silk sliding over my bare body.I float on my back, hair fanning out, toes pointed to the stars, one hand lazily drifting between my thighs because I’m already thinking about sneaking into his bedroom later and rubbing my

CHAPTER 3KAYLEEHe’s still buried inside me, half-hard and pulsing, when he suddenly rolls us. One second I’m on top, the next I’m face-down on the mattress, his heavy weight pinning me, cock sliding out only to slam back in so hard the air leaves my lungs in a broken moan.“Hands above your head,” he growls against my ear, voice dark with sleep and hunger.I obey instantly, wrists crossing, cheek pressed to the sheets that smell like us. He grabs both my wrists in one huge hand, pinning them to the small of my back, and starts fucking me like he’s trying to break me in half.Every thrust is brutal, hips slamming against my ass, balls slapping my clit. The bedframe screams against the wall.“Caleb—fuck—yes—” I sob, trying to push back and take more.His free hand cracks down on my ass, sharp and loud. “Who?” he snarls.“Mr. Thompson!” I cry out, the sting blooming hot and perfect. “Harder, please—”Another spank, harder, then another, until my ass is glowing red and I’m dripping down

BROTHER'S BEST FRIENDChapter 01I’m Hailey.I’m twenty-one now, but the second Jake’s convoy rolled in tonight, I swear the last seven years vanished.Tyler (my big brother) threw the welcome-home party the minute Jake walked through the door: beers cracked, shots poured, war stories shouted over the music. Jake looked exhausted, sunburned, beautiful, still in his desert cammies, dog tags glinting under the string lights. Every time his eyes found me across the room, my stomach flipped like I was fourteen again and stealing his T-shirts to sleep in.By 2 a.m. the house is finally quiet. Tyler is passed-out, face-down on the living-room couch, one boot still on, snoring loud enough to rattle windows.I’m wearing Jake’s old Marines shirt (the one I stole when I was fourteen) and literally nothing else. It still smells faintly like him.I pad barefoot down the hallway, heart hammering so loud I’m scared it’ll wake Tyler. The guest-room door is cracked open. Moonlight slices across the b

CHAPTER 3HAILEYWe pull into the beach lot. Tyler kills the engine, hops out like nothing happened.I climb off Jake’s lap on shaky legs, cum dripping down my thighs under the cut-offs. He tucks himself away, smirks, and slaps my ass once as we grab the cooler.Twenty minutes later Tyler’s already flirting hard with some blonde in a red bikini. Two shots of tequila and they’re stumbling toward the public bathrooms, her giggling, his hand on her ass.Jake watches them disappear, then turns to me, eyes dark.“Get over here.”He drags me behind the lifeguard tower, out of sight, and yanks my bikini top down.My tits spill free. He groans, latches onto one nipple, sucking hard, teeth grazing, tongue flicking until I’m whimpering.“Jake—someone will see—”“Let them,” he growls, switching to the other breast, sucking so deep and good my knees buckle.His hand slips into my cut-offs again, fingers pushing his leaking cum back inside me.“Still full of me,” he murmurs against my skin. “Gonna

STEPDADDY AND ICHAPTER 1CHLOEMom’s been gone thirty-six hours and the house already feels different.I “forgot” to do laundry on purpose. The only clean thing left is one of Ryan’s old college T-shirts (soft, faded, hanging halfway down my thighs) and the tiniest pink cotton shorts I own. No bra. No panties. The shorts are so small they barely cover the curve of my ass, and every time I bend over the shirt rides up just enough.I’ve been prancing around like this all morning, stretching on tiptoes to reach cereal bowls I don’t need, dropping spoons on purpose so I have to bend over slow. Ryan’s been watching from the couch, jaw tight, beer untouched in his hand.Now it’s afternoon. I’m in the laundry room, humming, pretending to look for dryer sheets. The machine is still spinning. I know he’s behind me before he even speaks.The door slams shut.The click of the lock is deafening.“Chloe,” Ryan growls, voice low and dangerous. “What the fuck are you wearing?”I turn halfway, fake-