Alle Kapitel von Sinful desires: MM Steamy compilation : Kapitel 11 – Kapitel 20

Marcus POV.I stalked behind my stepson as we walked into the house, eyes locked on the way he tried—and failed—to walk normally. The black lace thong peeked above his jeans waistband, a teasing strip of fabric that had been soaked since the dressing room. Gorgeous was an understatement. I gave my cock a hard squeeze through my jeans, trying to keep it under control. Tonight, I wasn’t holding back. I was going to use him in every way possible—edge him until he was a needy, crying, begging mess. I stopped him in the entryway. Stepped in front of him. Started unbuttoning his jeans.He didn’t fight me. If anything, he leaned closer, body vibrating with need, trying not to moan as my knuckles grazed his straining cock through the denim.“Are you annoyed I made you wear this?” I asked, just to drag it out, let the tension build.“No… please,” he begged, voice cracking, hips rocking forward like he couldn’t help it.“What are you thinking about?”“You.”“Doing what?”“Fucking me.”“In the

Marcus POV. I could barely concentrate on work. Every email, every call, every spreadsheet blurred into noise. My mind kept drifting back to Elias—his flushed cheeks, the way he’d whispered “Daddy” like it was the only word he needed, the taste of him on my tongue, the tight heat of him clenching around my fingers. It was taking everything in me not to drive to his school right now, drag him home, and lock the door behind us. The stepson I’d barely paid attention to before. The quiet kid who’d always been in the background, polite, distant, never demanding anything. Now he occupied every corner of my head. How the hell had one weekend done this to me? Gloria had been a storm—beautiful, chaotic, always pulling me into her orbit. When she’d left, I’d told myself it was a relief. But the house had felt too quiet after her. Too empty. I’d missed the energy, the noise, the life she’d brought—even if it was mostly drama. Now her son had filled that space. Not with chaos, but with somet

Elias POV.I think I might just drop out of school.I’ve been sitting here for hours, hunched over my tiny desk with the overhead lamp bleaching the page white. My eyes ache, the words blur and shift together, and a constant state of horniness buzzes in my ear like a hornet, drawing my attention, making me fidget. The chair is hard under me, the room too warm, my briefs damp where my cock has been leaking on and off. I blink hard. Come on, Elias, get with it. Concentrate. I’m not dumb, but it can take a few tries for something to click, and it doesn’t help that I’m so easily distracted. Over the last few days—even if I’m honest—I’ve let it slip more than I should, and then with the whole thing with Marcus…I’ve been too busy either fantasizing about him or concentrating on not fantasizing about him. That’s all over now, so I should be able to think about something other than him. So why can’t I concentrate?I still can’t get over the fact that he actually came all the way to see me b

I think we’ve been here an hour now, my ass was stinging so bad and the cage was making it difficult for me to get hard. This time I try to concentrate less on how stupid and horny I feel, how dumb I am, and more on the words on the page. I force my eyes to track each line of text about expectation damages and foreseeability. I read slowly, mouthing the sentences under my breath. The plug inside me shifts slightly when I lean forward—pressing right against that spot—and I bite the inside of my cheek to stay focused. I made it to the bottom of the page. My hand shakes as I scribble a few sentences of summary on the notepad beside the book. It’s messy, but it’s something.The timer beeps.Marcus leans over my shoulder. His chest brushes my back; I feel the heat of him even though he’s not touching me. He reads silently, lips pursed. I search his face for any flicker of approval, heart hammering so loud I’m sure he can hear it.“Good,” he says finally. “That’s better.”That small bit of

Marcus POV.I ran a palm over my face, the rough drag of calluses against stubble doing nothing to clear the headache building behind my eyes. “Gloria, I’m not doing this with you.”The words came out flat, tired. I’d said them three times already—maybe four. Elias would be home any minute. Our home. Not his cramped dorm room with the flickering fluorescent light and the mattress that sagged in the middle. He’d texted me twenty minutes ago: Just got it. Coming straight home. I could picture the grin behind those words, the way his dimples would flash when he walked through the door, test paper clutched like a trophy.I’d spent the afternoon preparing. A bottle of the chilled rosé he liked, the one that tasted like summer strawberries. A small velvet box on the nightstand containing the black lace thong and matching garter belt I’d ordered online two weeks ago—his size, his favorite color, the kind of delicate thing that made him blush and arch when I slid it up his thighs. A new plu