جميع فصول : الفصل -الفصل 40

He didn't just drive into me; he claimed me. The first thrust was an earthquake. It hit so deep, so hard, that the headboard slammed against the wall with a rhythmic, deafening thud-thud-thud. It shook the very marrow of my bones. "Ah! Fuck—yes! Daddy, please!" I sobbed, my voice cracking under the sheer intensity of the friction. Every time he pulled back, the air felt cold, empty—a cruel tease of deprivation—before he slammed back home, filling me until I felt like I was splitting at the seams. "That’s it, little one," he growled, his voice a low vibration that rattled through my chest. He reached up, his large hand wrapping firmly around my throat. It wasn't tight enough to hurt, but it was heavy, possessive, and electric. It pinned me, kept me steady, like a constant reminder of exactly who was the master here. "Look at me," he commanded, his eyes burning into my soul. "I want you to see exactly what I’m doing to you. I want you to see exactly who’s making you moan like this."

My hand was trapped between his palm and the scorching heat of his skin. I could feel the blood jumping in his veins. It was thick, hard, and so heavy. My knees felt like they were made of jelly at that point. I tried to pull back, but he just tightened his grip, forcing me to stroke him. "I... I have to go back, Mr. Miller," I whispered, my voice almost a pleading mess. "Go back to what?" he rumbled. He turned me around in his arms but didn't let go of my hand. He kept it right there on him. "To a boy who doesn't know what to do with a woman like you? I heard you moan, but it wasn't as loud as you did this afternoon." I swallowed hard. Was he eavesdropping on me and his son? “You’re getting wet for me, Chloe. I can smell it." "Stop," I gasped, but I didn't move. He didn't listen. He lifted me up and sat me on the edge of his big wooden desk. Papers scattered to the floor. He stepped between my legs, his bare chest a wall of solid muscle in front of my face. He looked down at me

Julian was relentless. He pulled back until he was almost out, then slammed forward with everything he had. The sound of their bodies hitting was like thunder in the quiet office. He was a machine, his breath coming in jagged, animalistic gasps. He started to vary the tempo, grinding his hips in a slow, agonizing circle before resuming the rapid, piston-like strikes that made her vision blur. He reached out to grab the edge of the desk for leverage, his muscles corded and shaking from the effort of maintaining such a brutal speed. "Take it," he growled, his voice thick and unrecognizable. "Take all my cock, Rissa." "I can't... oh god... it’s too much!" she cried out, though her legs only tightened around his waist. The friction was building into a fever pitch, the heat between them nearly unbearable. Julian leaned down, his teeth grazing her collarbone as he let out a low, guttural grunt with every thrust. He wanted her to feel the full weight of him, the sheer power of his possessi

Vicky didn’t stop. She couldn’t. Every time she lifted her hips and slammed back down onto Greg’s lap, the friction sent a new wave of heat through her body. Under the thick blanket, their bodies were a mess of sweat and friction. Greg’s hands were clamped onto her waist, his fingers digging into her skin to keep her from bouncing too high."Ohhh... Daddy... yes," Vicky whimpered into his neck. She was moving faster now, her breathing coming in short, ragged hitches. "You’re so deep... Daddy, you’re filling me up so perfectly."Greg’s face was tight. He was staring straight at the TV, but his eyes weren't seeing the movie. They were coated with pure, unadulterated pleasure. "Quiet, Vicky," he hissed, his voice a vibrating rumble in his chest. "If your mom hears you calling me that... if she hears anything...""She won't," Vicky whispered, her teeth grazing his earlobe as she came down hard again. "She’s too busy watching the screen. But you’re watching me, aren't you, Daddy? You’re fe

Greg’s legs felt like lead as he stood up from the kitchen island. His heart was hammering against his ribs, a heavy, rhythmic thud that drowned out the sound of the morning news. He looked at Sarah. She was busy cleaning a pan, her back still turned, completely unaware that her husband was vibrating with a dangerous, forbidden need. "I'm going to the library to find that book I mentioned," Greg mumbled. His voice was thick, like he had swallowed sand. "Okay, honey," Sarah replied. She didn't even look up. Greg walked down the hallway. Every step felt like a sin. The house was quiet, but the air felt charged, like a storm was about to break. He reached the library door. It was slightly ajar. He pushed it open and stepped inside. The room smelled of old paper and expensive leather. Sunlight streamed through the large windows, but the back corner, near the tall mahogany bookshelves, was draped in shadow. That’s where she was. Vicky was leaning against the shelves. She had her back