A Delicious Sinful Bite のすべてのチャプター: チャプター 31 - チャプター 40

Zack crossed the space in two steps. His hand shot out and gripped her jaw, tilting her face up. His thumb pressed into her lower lip, forcing her mouth open. She sucked the pad of his thumb instantly, tongue curling around it like she was already tasting his cock.“You’ve been dripping since you walked in here,” he said, voice gravel-low. “I could smell your pussy from across the room.”Freya whimpered. The words hit her like a slap. Her thighs clenched and another rush of slick leaked out, soaking the crotch of her panties completely.Zack yanked the zipper the rest of the way down. The dress fell to her waist in a heap. He shoved the cups of her bra down so her tits spilled out, nipples already tight and aching. He palmed one roughly, pinching the nipple hard enough to make her gasp, then dropped to his knees.He hooked her panties to the side with one finger. Her pussy was swollen, lips puffy and glistening, clit standing out red and needy. He spread her open with both thumbs

Lara had only been working as Mr. Kane’s personal assistant for three weeks, but she already knew the rhythm of his mornings better than her own heartbeat. He arrived at exactly 7:45 every day, never early, never late. That gave her precisely twenty-five minutes alone in the quiet executive suite before the rest of the floor woke up.She needed those minutes.The first time she touched herself at her desk it had been an accident, a moment of weakness after watching him stride through the glass doors in that charcoal suit that hugged every line of his body like it had been painted on. Six feet three, dark hair swept back, jaw sharp enough to cut glass, eyes the color of smoke. The most gorgeous man she had ever seen in real life. He didn’t just enter a room; he claimed it. Voices lowered. Spines straightened. Air itself seemed to bend around him.And every morning since her second week, she locked the outer door, dimmed the lights over her station, and let her hand slip beneath her

FUCKED RAW BY FATHER AND HIS SONSThelma gripped the steering wheel so tightly her knuckles ached. The old silver SUV rattled over the cracked asphalt like it was personally offended by every pothole. Behind her, the city had long since disappeared, swallowed by rolling hills that looked more like a painting than real life. She was supposed to be heading to Willow Creek, a sleepy town two hours north, for a photography gig she had accepted on a whim three days ago. A local harvest festival wanted urban eyes on rural beauty. She had laughed when the email came in, right after she had walked in on her boyfriend of two years balls deep in her supposed best friend on their living room couch.The image flashed again: Marcus’s stupid face, pants around his ankles, the girl’s moans still echoing in Thelma’s ears. She had screamed, thrown her keys at his head, and stormed out. That same night she had packed one suitcase, grabbed her camera bag, and told her boss she was taking the assignment

Thelma lay on the guest room bed, legs still parted, heart hammering in her chest. The thin cotton sheet was twisted around her waist, doing nothing to hide the mess between her thighs. Job had left her only minutes ago, slipping out quietly after he had fucked her raw on the kitchen counter, pumped her full of thick, hot cum, and then kissed her like she belonged to him. She could still feel the stretch of his fat cock, the way he had bottomed out and flooded her until it leaked out in slow, sticky rivulets. Her pussy throbbed with aftershocks, swollen and sensitive, lips puffy and glistening. Every small shift of her hips made more of his release drip from her entrance, coating her inner thighs, soaking into the sheets beneath her ass.She should have gotten up. Cleaned herself. But the filthy satisfaction of being used like that, of carrying the older man’s seed inside her while the house slept around them, kept her pinned to the mattress, fingers idly circling her clit, sprea

Kiara sat rigidly on the soft leather couch in Doctor Vivienne Lang’s elegant office, her fingers twisting the hem of her pale blue blouse. The room felt warm and inviting with its soft lighting, neutral tones, and the faint scent of lavender diffusing from a small oil burner on the side table. Yet none of that comfort eased the knot of frustration and insecurity twisting in her stomach. Beside her, Callum shifted uncomfortably, his broad shoulders tense under his crisp white shirt. At thirty eight years old, he still carried the athletic build from his days playing college rugby, but lately that strength seemed useless when it came to the most intimate part of their marriage.Doctor Vivienne Lang, a poised woman in her early forties with sleek dark hair pulled into a low bun and sharp green eyes that missed nothing, sat across from them in a matching armchair. She wore a tailored cream blouse and pencil skirt that accentuated her elegant figure without being overt. A notepad res