WAVES OF WANT のすべてのチャプター: チャプター 41 - チャプター 50

Nora didn’t text Elias the next day. She let the silence stretch like a taut wire between them.All morning she replayed the way he had looked at her while buried deep inside her. His eyes dark with want, his voice breaking as he admitted to how he couldn’t stop thinking about her. By afternoon, the memory had twisted into something sharper. A dangerous mix of need and power. She wanted to test how far that want would take him.She spent the day deliberately avoiding the humanities building, letting him wonder if she had finally given up. Elias, the silence hit him first thing in the morning. He checked his phone before even fully getting out of bed but there was no call or text from her. He told himself he didn't care, afterall, he had a long day ahead of him. Meetings and lectures and responsibilities.But by midday, his focus was slipping. He found himself pausing mid sentences during lectures, losing track of his thoughts. His eyes scanning the whole place but there was no trace

"I should have left." The thought kept ringing in her head clear and nonstop But her fingers stayed curled around the door handle, not turning it, as if her body had already made a decision her mind is yet to agree with. Behind her, he remained perfectly still. just watching and waiting. The silence feeling alive and heavy. Slowly, she turned to face him again. “You left it unlocked on purpose,” she said. This time it wasn’t a question. “I didn’t lock it,” he corrected calmly, his voice low and smooth like velvet dragged over gravel. Her brows drew together. “That’s not normal.” “No," he agreed, the corner of his mouth twitching. “It’s not.” “Why?” He didn’t answer right her Instead, his eyes went slowly down her body lingering openly on the way her blouse stretched across her full breasts, the slight sheen of sweat on her collarbone from the long day, the way her skirt hugged the curve of her hips and ass. She felt the heat of that gaze like fingers tracing her skin. “

She was trembling, grinding shamelessly against his fingers like a needy slut who had already surrendered. He could feel how soaked she was through the thin lace with her juices coating his fingertips, her swollen clit pulsing under his touch. Without another word, he hooked two fingers into the waistband of her panties and ripped them down her legs in one rough motion. The delicate fabric tore slightly at the side, but neither of them cared. “Fuck… look at this pretty slimming pussy” he growled, dropping to one knee in front of her. He pushed her skirt up around her waist, exposing her completely. “Dripping wet and clenching, all because a stranger told you he planned to fuck you tonight.” Ama’s head fell back against the door with a moan. Her hands flew to his shoulders, nails digging in as he spread her thighs wider. The teasing had stopped. Now, he wanted to fuck her as hard as he could. His mouth latched onto her pussy like a starving man. Tongue dragging flat and slow f

She was still sprawled on his desk, skirt hanging around her waist, with her blouse half unbuttoned and legs loosely wrapped around his hips. His dick still very much buried deep inside her. His dick twitching with the last pulses of his orgasm, the condom stretched tight and full. He didn’t pull out immediately. Instead, he stayed pressed against her, forehead resting on her shoulder, his hot breath fanning hot over her neck. One of his hands slowly stroked up and down her thigh, almost soothing, while the other braced on the desk beside her head. “Fuck.....," he muttered, voice rough and low. “That was…” “Insane,” she finished for him, a shaky laugh escaping her lips. She could feel her pussy still fluttering around him, the aftershocks from the intense fuckiing making her clench involuntarily. Every little movement sent sparks through her body. He finally lifted his head and looked at her. His eyes were dim, heavy lidded, still hungry. The corner of his mouth curved int

My name is Lisa and I was only twenty four. A fresh clinical psychology intern at the downtown counseling center. My role was pretty much simple. Sit quietly in the corner, observe licensed therapists during sessions, take notes, and keep my mouth shut. No direct contact with clients. No personal involvement whatsoever. The ethics rules were drilled into us from day one. Dr. Ramirez’s thursday 3 PM couple was one of the messiest cases on the schedule. The husband, Victor Lang, 32, came in every week with his wife, Claire. Claire did most of the talking . Complaining about feeling unseen, about Victor’s emotional distance, about their dead bedroom. Victor mostly sat there looking exhausted, nodding occasionally, his deep voice low when he finally spoke. I kept my eyes on my notepad, but I noticed everything about Victor. The way his large hands rested on his thighs, veins standing out. The sharp line of his jaw. How his dark eyes sometimes flicked toward me in the corner, lingering