All Chapters of Forbidden Fantasies: A Steamy Erotica Collection: Chapter 41 - Chapter 50

Chapter 41Lucy’s POVThe nanny’s eyes went wide the second I handed Emma over, like I’d just walked in wearing nothing but a thong. Sarah’s sweet and reliable but God… she’s nosy as hell sometimes. “Here, she’s fed and changed. Should sleep through most of the night,” I said, fixing the strap on my black mini dress. It was short as fuck, the hem barely covering my ass cheeks, back completely bare so the cool air hit my skin and made my heavy tits strain against the thin fabric. No bra, obviously. My nipples were already poking through hard from the night air.She bit her lip and hesitated. “Madam Lucy, isn’t what you’re wearing tonight too revealing? I mean… for a married woman…”Irritation shot through me right next to the constant throb between my legs. Who the fuck was she to judge? “Mind your own work, Sarah. That’s what I pay you for.” My voice came out colder than I meant but I was on edge all day. My pussy had been leaking nonstop, slick and needy, replaying those college bo

Chapter 43Raven’s POVFuck the storm was still raging outside but inside this bus it was hotter than hell already. Sweat everywhere, sticky, gross, perfect. I was sprawled on that tiny shitty galley table like some cheap buffet, legs dangling off the edge, hoodie bunched up around my neck so my tits were out, nipples hard from the cold and the shame. Cum from earlier was drying in crusty streaks across my stomach and thighs, mixing with fresh sweat. My pussy was throbbing so bad it hurt, empty, dripping down my ass crack onto the table. They'd edged me stupid on the bench seat and now they were just… staring. circling. like they owned me already.Jax stepped up first between my knees, jeans barely past his hips, that pierced dick of his bobbing, shiny with my spit from before. He slapped it right against my clit; hard, with a wet smack. I jolted, gasped like a bitch.“Look at this sloppy fucking cunt,” he said, voice all gravel and mean. “Dripping like a broken tap after one round.

Chapter 45Maya’s POVThe boutique smelled like fresh lilies and money… me likey hehe.The Lovely Bride on Hudson Street was open and ready for business. Soft lighting, blush-pink walls wrapped in delicate vines; girly without being cheap, expensive without screaming it. The kind of place that whispered, “Girl, you can’t afford any of this shit, so scram,” but in the sweetest, most polite tone only Ava’s black card could answer back to.How unfortunate for the rest of us broke-ass girlies who could only press our noses to the glass and dream.Ava floated through it like she owned the square footage.She twirled in front of the three-way mirror once, twice, a third spin that was frankly unnecessary (fine, I was jealous. Just a tiny fucking bit). The white lace hugged her slim hips, veil drifting like she’d been practicing this moment since the womb. Knowing Ava, she probably had.“What do you think, Maya?” she asked, eyes sparkling with that pre-packaged certainty of a woman who alread

Chapter 47. Emily’s POVThe divorce was finally done on a Tuesday in March and by Wednesday, I was gone. I took the kids to stay with their gran ; they were old enough to understand Mom needed air that didn’t taste like arguments.I didn’t even pack much. Just a suitcase, my favorite black bikini, and a one-way ticket to anywhere warm. Hawaii won because the pictures promised heat that sinks into your bones and waves that wash everything clean. I needed both.The plane landed in Kona mid-morning. The air hit me like a damp towel; thick, salty, alive. My condo was small, right on a stretch of beach where the sand was more gray than white and the lava rocks looked like they’d cooled off a thousand years ago. I liked it. Quiet. With no one asking me how I was “really” doing.First full day, I slipped into the bikini; high-cut legs, thin straps that barely held everything in place. Thirty-eight and still filling it out better than I expected. Guess a real bad bitch never dies.The mirro

Chapter 49. Caught and Claimed Emily’s POV Another event popped up the next afternoon; some kind of “guest appreciation night” with cocktails, live music, and a little closing ceremony where a few tourists got pulled up to say nice things about the resort. The emcee announced it with a big grin: “And handling the whole thing tonight will be our very own Mr. Maxwell.” My stomach dropped. Maxwell. So that was his name. The lifeguard. The one who’d fingered me on the beach bench, fucked Valery in a cabana, and now apparently ran half the show here. Someone in the crowd whispered that his dad owned the whole hotel chain; old money mixed with young muscle. Hot. Rich. Untouchable. Perfect combination. I spotted him near the stage setting up a mic stand; white shirt sleeves rolled to his elbows, with his khaki shorts hugging his thighs. He looked up, caught my eye across the lawn, and gave that same lazy half-smile. My pussy gave an instant, traitorous squeeze. I walked over before I