Lahat ng Kabanata ng Tales of Desire: Kabanata 11 - Kabanata 20

[Sophie’s POV]I slam my laptop shut so hard the coffee table jumps. “God, I need to get fucked tonight,” I groan, collapsing back into the couch cushions. My head throbs from three straight days of finals, my bank account is a negative-number joke, and the cheap vibrator in my drawer gave up the ghost weeks ago.Across the living room Alex freezes mid-strum on his old acoustic, that wicked grin already crawling across his tattooed face. Jake, sprawled shirtless like always, sweat still shining on his abs from the workout he just finished, lifts one brow and takes a slow swig of his beer. Liam pushes his glasses up with one finger, pretending he’s still reading his anatomy textbook, but I catch his dark eyes flicking to my bare thighs for the hundredth time tonight.“Rough week?” Jake asks, voice low and lazy.“Rough life,” I shoot back. “I’m horny, broke, and one more group presentation away from committing murder.”Alex sets the guitar down with a soft thud. “Welcome to the party, g

I come awake slowly, everything aches in the most delicious way. My skin still carries their marks, faint bruises and the ghost of teeth, and just thinking about it sends a fresh pulse of heat straight between my legs.But the glow fades the second I reach for my phone. Mia's text from last night glows on the screen, bright and cheerful: In town early. Surprise visit tomorrow. Can't wait to see you! Except tomorrow is already here. And right beneath it, the burner email icon shows a new message waiting. My stomach knots with cold dread.I ease myself free as carefully as I can, sliding out from under Alex's arm and Jake's leg. They stir but don't wake. Naked, I pad to the bathroom and lock the door behind me, turning the shower as hot as it will go. I'm still dripping, hair plastered to my back, when three sharp knocks echo through the apartment."Soph? You home?" Mia's voice, sweet and familiar, cuts through the quiet like a blade.Panic surges. I grab Alex's discarded T-shirt from t

We barely sleep. By dawn, the couch is shoved against the door, cardboard taped over every window, locks clicked and reclicked until our fingers ache. Eventually we know we have to face the family stuff head-on. Mia and I step into the kitchen, close the door, and call home on speaker. Mom picks up sounding exhausted, and when we ask straight out about the debt she goes quiet for so long I think the call dropped. Then it all comes out. Dad lost more than anyone let on, tens of thousands racked up over years, and the collectors started calling the house last spring. Mia’s been sending money home every month, but the stripping story she told us earlier was only part of it. The real money came from quiet late-night cam sessions in her apartment, mask on, lights low, just enough to keep the interest payments going. She thought she’d buried that account deep, changed usernames, deleted old clips, but somehow the blackmailer dug it up and connected the dots when our new profile went live.

The next morning came too soon. My ass throbbed with every step as I rode the elevator up to the 30th floor, a delicious reminder of how Master Kane had ruined me last night. His cum was still inside me, warm and sticky, slowly leaking out to soak the fresh lace panties he had texted me to wear: black, barely-there, with a note that said "No touching yourself until I say so, pet." The collar hugged my throat under my crisp white blouse, hidden by a silk scarf. Every time I swallowed, it tightened just enough to make me wetter.I smoothed my pencil skirt as the doors opened, forcing a professional smile for the receptionist. "Morning, Sarah.""Morning! You look flushed. Late night?"My cheeks burned. "Just some overtime." If only she knew the overtime involved being bent over the conference table, screaming his name while he fucked my ass raw.The bullpen was buzzing with Monday energy. I sank into my desk chair carefully, biting my lip as the pressure hit my sore hole. Fresh wetness t

[Hart’s POV]Monday morning hit like a hangover made of bruises and ownership.The new collar was heavier and thicker, with the engraved plate pressing against my throat with every swallow. KANE BLACKWELL. I stood in front of my mirror for twenty minutes trying to hide it: silk scarf, high-neck blouse, delicate choker necklace layered on top. It still peeked out when I turned my head too quickly. The bruises on my neck from his teeth and grip bloomed dark purple, impossible to cover completely. My ass and thighs were striped vivid red from his belt, visible if my skirt rode up even an inch. I wore the longest pencil skirt I owned and still felt naked.No panties, as he had ordered. Every step made his dried cum from the weekend flake and mix with fresh wetness. By the time I reached the office lobby, I was already throbbing.The elevator was crowded. I kept my eyes down, praying no one noticed how I favored one side when I stood or how I flinched when the doors jolted. Sarah at recept