All Chapters of DIRTY DREAMS (AN EROTICA COLLECTION): Chapter 11 - Chapter 20

One thick finger pushes inside.I clench around him – can’t help it, have never been able to help it – and he freezes. Waits. Listens to my breathing, checks my face, makes sure I’m still “asleep.”Satisfied, he starts to move.In and out. Slow, careful thrusts. He’s learned exactly how to touch me over four years – knows the angle that makes me tightest, the depth that makes me shake, the curl of his finger against my g-spot that makes me cum.He adds a second finger.The stretch is delicious. He pumps them slowly, spreading them apart inside me, opening me up for what’s coming next. His thumb finds my clit and starts rubbing circles – gentle at first, then harder as he feels my walls flutter around his fingers.I cum.Silent. Still. My pussy clenching rhythmically around his fingers while my face remains blank. The orgasm rolls through me – waves of pleasure I have to contain, to hide, to pretend I don’t feel.He feels it though. Groans softly as I squeeze him. Keeps rubbing my clit

I obey.Slamming down on his cock, taking him so deep my clit grinds against his pelvis with every stroke. The wet sounds are obscene – squelching, slapping, the unmistakable noise of a pussy being thoroughly fucked.“That’s it.” He’s panting now. “That’s my good girl. My perfect little slut. Riding Daddy’s cock while Mommy sleeps down the hall.”The words push me over.I cum – convulsing, clenching, my rhythm falling apart as pleasure whites out my vision. I collapse forward onto his chest, still impaled, still shaking.He doesn’t let me rest.His hands grip my hips. Lock me in place.And then he starts fucking up into me."Marcus – ” I’m overwhelmed. Oversensitive. Every thrust feels like too much. ”Please – ”“Please what?” He’s relentless. Brutal. Using my body like I’m nothing but a hole for him to fill. “Please stop? Please keep going? Please cum inside you again?”"Yes – ” I don’t even know what I’m agreeing to. ”All of it – ”He slams up into me one final time and groans.I fe

Tyler pulls Ryan out of me – I whine at the emptiness – and takes his place. Slides into my used pussy and groans. “Still tight. Even after that. She’s fucking perfect.”They rotate through me. Tyler, then Derek, then Josh. Each one different – different sizes, different rhythms, different ways of making me feel used. And with each one, my unconscious fiancé snores peacefully on the couch, oblivious to his bride being passed around like a sex toy.“Bedroom,” Ryan finally says. “I want more room to work with.”The master bedroom has floor-to-ceiling windows and a balcony with a view of the entire city skyline.It also has a California king bed with sheets that probably cost more than my wedding dress.I’m about to ruin them.“On the bed,” Ryan commands. “Hands and knees.”I crawl onto the mattress, presenting myself, ass in the air, pussy dripping with the cum of four different men. I should be satisfied. I should be done.I want more.Ryan positions himself behind me. I expect him to

Three days.Three days of “accidental” bathroom encounters.The first morning, I walked in on Frank – my mom’s boyfriend of six months – standing at the sink in nothing but a towel slung low around his hips. Water droplets glistened on his chest. Silver hair at his temples. The body of a man who takes care of himself, even at forty-eight.He didn’t cover up or look away. He just stared at me with dark eyes that traveled slowly down my body – taking in my thin sleep shirt, the way my nipples were visible through the fabric, the bare length of my legs.I mumbled an apology and backed out.But I felt his gaze on me for hours afterward.That night, I walked in on Jake – Frank’s son, home from grad school for the weekend. Twenty-six years old, built like he lives at the gym, standing at the sink in low-slung sweatpants with no shirt. He looked at me the exact same way his father had.Hungry.Wanting.By day two, I started to suspect the bathroom lock wasn’t actually broken.By day three,

I knew about the gambling.You don’t stay married to a man for ten years without noticing when he comes home at 3 AM smelling like whiskey and regret. The poker nights with “the guys.” The cash withdrawals he thinks I don’t track. The way he flinches whenever his phone buzzes.I knew. I just didn’t know how bad.Until tonight.Derek walks through the front door looking like he’s seen his own grave. Pale. Shaking. Won’t meet my eyes.“Baby.” His voice cracks. “I need to tell you something.”I’m already bracing. Debt, probably. A second mortgage I’ll have to untangle. Maybe a bookie with a baseball bat waiting in the wings.What I’m not expecting is what he actually says.“I lost big tonight. Really big. More than we have. More than we can get.”“How much?”He tells me.The number doesn’t even sound real. It’s more than the house is worth. More than both our cars combined. More than ten years of savings could touch.“Jesus Christ, Derek.”“I know. I know. But – ” He swallows hard, final