All Chapters of LOVE AT FIRST SIGHT: Chapter 11 - Chapter 20

Elena stepped forward when I called her name.She was the last one. The fifth. The one I had saved for the end without knowing why. She walked toward me with the same quiet grace my ex had always possessed. Tall. Dark hair falling in loose waves that caught the light like spilled ink. Green eyes that held the same depth, the same quiet storm. The same gentle curve to her hips. The same full lips that parted slightly when she was thinking. The same way she bit the inside of her lower lip when she was nervous. She was not my Elena. But she was close enough to make my heart stutter in my chest. Close enough to make the blank canvas across the room feel like it was watching me.I was still naked. My cock hung heavy between my thighs. Paint from the previous women streaked my skin in faint smears of crimson and gold. My body felt alive for the first time in months. My hands itched. My eyes burned. The emptiness in my chest had cracked open. Something was stirring. Something dangerous. Some

The five women remained gathered around me on the daybed, bodies still flushed and slick, breathing still uneven, skin still marked by paint, welts, sweat, and cum. The studio air was thick with the scent of sex and linseed oil, a heavy, intimate fog that clung to every surface. My cock lay softening against my thigh, spent but still sensitive, every small shift of their limbs against me sending faint aftershocks through my groin. I lay on my back in the centre of them, arms spread, chest rising and falling, staring up at the high steel beams and the skylight above. Rain had started again. Soft taps against the glass. A gentle percussion that matched the slow thud of my heart.Elena was the first to move.She slid down my body, her dark hair trailing across my stomach like cool silk. She kissed the hollow of my hip. Then lower. Her tongue traced the crease where thigh met groin. She licked the cum and her own wetness from my skin. Slow. Careful. Worshipful. Sophia joined her on my rig

The beast slammed into me before I could even draw a breath.His massive body pinned me against the cold concrete wall of the cage with terrifying ease. The impact knocked the air from my lungs. My robe tore open like tissue paper under his claws, the fabric ripping away in shreds. I was naked in seconds, my back scraping against rough stone as eight feet of pure muscle and coarse black fur pressed against my smaller frame.He didn’t speak. He never would. Only deep, guttural grunts and snarls escaped his throat as his yellow slitted eyes bored into mine. His hot breath fanned across my face, smelling of raw meat and something darker, more primal.One huge clawed hand wrapped around my throat—not choking, but holding me in place while the other gripped my hip hard enough to bruise. I felt the thick, ridged heads of his two massive cocks nudge against my thighs. They were impossibly hot, slick with his own dripping pre-cum, each one thicker than my forearm and pulsing with raw need. Th

The beast’s long, rough tongue continued its relentless assault on my pussy. He sucked my swollen clit deep into his hot mouth, the wet suction pulling rhythmic waves of unwanted pleasure through my exhausted body. His tongue was thick and textured, dragging slowly from my leaking entrance up to my clit, then circling the sensitive nub with deliberate laps that made my hips twitch despite myself. Every time he thrust that tongue inside me, scooping out the thick remnants of his earlier cum mixed with my own juices, he swallowed with a satisfied grunt. The sound vibrated straight through my core.I could not stop the moans that escaped my lips. The aphrodisiac from his bite still burned in my blood, turning every lick into fire. My back arched off the mattress as he pressed his massive clawed hand harder against my lower stomach, squeezing gently to intensify every sensation. He licked me all over. His tongue bathed my inner thighs, cleaning the dried cum and slick from my skin before

My name is Elena Voss, and I had been producing milk for six months when the Milk Factory finally accepted my application.After my second child, my breasts never really dried up. Instead of fighting it, I started pumping and selling the excess online. The money was good, but the private messages from wealthy men offering thousands just to taste me in person were even better. When the discreet black envelope arrived with the Factory’s gold-embossed logo, I knew my life was about to change.The building looked like any sleek corporate office from the outside, all glass and steel on the edge of the city. Inside, it smelled faintly of warm vanilla, clean skin, and something sweeter underneath. A beautiful receptionist in a crisp white uniform led me to a private evaluation room.“Miss Voss, please remove your top and bra,” the lactation specialist said calmly. She was a woman in her forties with kind eyes and steady hands. “We need to assess flow, volume, and responsiveness.”I stripped