บททั้งหมดของ NAUGHTY FANTASIES (AN EROTICA COLLECTION): บทที่ 121 - บทที่ 130

Chapter 1The doorbell rings just as I’m pulling the last of my damp hair into a messy bun, the strands still clinging to the back of my neck from the shower. I walk barefoot across the hardwood, my toes curling against the cool surface, the oversized T-shirt I threw on after my bath barely skimming mid-thigh. It’s just the delivery, nothing to get worked up over. But then I pull the door open, and my breath catches like I’ve been punched in the gut.The man on my doorstep isn’t just some bored courier with a clipboard. He’s built, broad shoulders stretching the fabric of his dark blue delivery uniform, the sleeves rolled up to reveal forearms corded with veins, the kind that make you wonder how rough his grip would be. But it’s his face that stops me cold. Sharp jawline dusted with a day’s worth of stubble, full lips that look like they’d leave a mark if they pressed against skin. And his eyes.”….one dark, almost black, the other milky white, bisected by a thin, jagged scar that cu

Chapter 3The second my knees hit the hardwood, Darius’s grip tightens in my hair, yanking my head back just enough to force my chin up. His cock juts out in front of me, thick and veined, the head already glistening with pre-cum. My breath hitches as I take in the sheer size of him, longer than my hand, the girth making my fingers look delicate in comparison. The musky scent of him fills my nose, and my mouth waters before I even realize I’m leaning forward.“That’s it,” he growls, his voice rough like gravel. “Look at you, already drooling for it.”I don’t get a chance to respond before his other hand tangles in my hair, fingers twisting into a fist. A sharp sting radiates across my scalp, but it only makes my pussy clench harder. He guides my face closer, the tip of his cock brushing against my lips. I part them instinctively, my tongue darting out to taste the salty bead of pre-cum. His breath hisses between his teeth.“Fucking greedy little slut,” he murmurs, his grip tighteni

Chapter 1The gin burns going down, and I chase it with another. I don't care. I want the burn. Three days since I found the texts on Marcus's phone…three days since I learned how many times he'd fucked his research assistant in our bed while I was at the library, at the gym, visiting my mother in the hospital. The numbers don't matter. The details don't matter. What matters is the hollow space behind my ribs where something solid used to be.I signal for another. The bartender's eyes slide past me, landing on someone down the bar. I don't turn to look. I stare at the row of bottles instead, reading labels I can't focus on, until a voice cuts through the haze."You're destroying that drink."I turn. He's sitting two stools away, close enough that I can see the precise angle of his jaw, the faint shadow of stubble, the way his collar is unbuttoned exactly one button too many for this neighborhood. Dark hair, threaded with silver at the temples. Eyes the color of wet river stone. He

Chapter 3Professors PovThe hallway hums with the low murmur of leaving students, their footsteps scattering like across the polished floor. I don’t turn to watch Lilian leave…yet, but I feel the exact moment she steps through the doorway, the way the air in the room shifts, lighter without her. My fingers twitch against the edge of the podium, the wood smooth and cool beneath my palms, grounding me. The card I slipped into her hand is still warm from her grip, or maybe that’s just my imagination. Either way, the thought of it tucked against her skin, hidden in her pocket or pressed between her thighs like a secret, sends a slow pulse of heat straight to my cock.I let three more minutes tick by before I gather my notes, deliberate in my movements. The classroom empties, the last stragglers glancing back at me with that mix of awe and fear I’ve cultivated over the years. Good. My mind is already elsewhere, on the way Lilian’s breath hitched when our fingers brushed, on the fainte

Chapter 5The lecture hall door clicks shut behind the last straggling student, the sound echoing like a judge’s gavel. My fingers dig into the edge of the desk, nails biting into the polished wood hard enough to leave crescent moons. Christopher doesn’t move. He’s still braced against the podium, his suit jacket pulled taut across his shoulders, the fabric straining just enough to hint at the muscle beneath. His knuckles are white where they grip the edge, but his face is all smooth, infuriating control."Wear something with easy access."My breath hitches, not because I’m shocked, but because the bastard knows exactly what that does to me. The way my thighs press together, the way my pulse jumps in my throat like a trapped thing. I can feel the weight of his gaze on me, dark and knowing, tracing the line of my skirt where it hugs my hips, the way my blouse clings just a little too tight across my chest when I inhale. He’s not even touching me, and already I’m wet, already my body