Semua Bab Burning Desires: (25 Gay Short Stories) : Bab 91 - Bab 100

: Stranded with the Stranger The wind howled like a wild animal outside the small wooden cabin. Snow came down so thick it felt like the whole mountain wanted to bury us alive. I stood by the tiny window, pressing my face close to the cold glass, trying to see anything beyond the white blur. Nothing. Just endless white and the angry roar of the storm. My name is Alex. I am twenty-five, a city guy who thought a quick weekend hike would clear my head after a bad breakup. Stupid idea. My boots were soaked, my jacket felt heavy with melted snow, and now I was stuck here with a man I had never met before today. He called himself Jake. Tall, broad shoulders, thick beard, and hands that looked like they could split logs without trying. He had been the one who found me slipping on the trail when the storm hit hard and fast. Without a word, he grabbed my arm, pointed toward this old ranger cabin, and pulled me through the driving snow. Now we were inside, door locked against the wind, on

Stranded with the Stranger The storm outside kept pounding the cabin like it wanted to break in. Wind screamed through the trees and snow slapped hard against the windows. Inside, the fire had burned down to glowing red embers, but the heat between Jake and me felt hotter than any flame. I still had my hand wrapped around his thick cock. It pulsed in my grip, hot and heavy, leaking steadily over my fingers. Jake lay on his back, chest rising and falling fast, his big body tense with need. His eyes stayed locked on mine, dark and burning. “Keep going,” he said, voice rough and low. “Stroke it just like that.” I tightened my fingers and pumped him faster. The wet sound of skin sliding on skin filled the small room. Jake groaned deep in his chest. His hips lifted off the bed, pushing his cock through my fist. I loved the way he looked right then — this strong, quiet mountain man falling apart because of my touch. After a minute he caught my wrist and stopped me. “Slow down or I will

The Mafia Prince & His Bodyguard(1) The safehouse smelled like old wood and gun oil. Rain hammered the roof like bullets, but the real danger was already inside the room with me. I stood by the window, arms crossed, watching the dark trees outside sway in the storm. My name is Luca Rossi. Twenty-six years old. Son of the most feared man in the city. The prince of the Rossi family. And right now, I was bored, pissed off, and horny as hell. My bodyguard leaned against the far wall, arms folded over his massive chest. Marcus Vale. Thirty-eight. Ex-special forces. Six-foot-four of pure muscle, scarred hands, and a face that looked like it had taken punches for a living. He had protected me for three years now. Never smiled. Never talked more than he had to. Always watching. Always in control. I hated how much I wanted him to lose that control. “You gonna stand there all night staring at the rain?” I asked, turning to face him. My voice came out sharp, the way it always did when I want

The Mafia Prince & His Bodyguard Marcus dropped me onto the bed like I was his to use. The old mattress creaked under my back. I lay there naked, legs still spread from how he had carried me, cum from the first round leaking slow and warm down my thighs. My hole felt sore and open, but my cock was already twitching back to life, hard again from the way he looked at me. He stood at the edge of the bed, tall and massive, stripping off his black shirt. Scars crossed his chest and abs — old knife marks, bullet wounds, the kind of history that made my stomach tighten with heat. His pants came off next. That thick cock sprang free, still shiny from being inside me, already half-hard and heavy between his legs. “On your knees,” he said. No please. Just a command. I rolled over fast and pushed up onto all fours. My ass pointed right at him. He climbed onto the bed behind me, knees spreading my legs wider. One big hand gripped my hip. The other slapped my ass hard. The sting made me gasp,

: Rival Roommates The hotel door slammed shut behind us and the tiny room felt like a cage. Two single beds pushed almost together, one tiny desk, and a bathroom the size of a closet. That was it. No couch, no extra space, nothing. Just me, him, and the fact that we had to share this shit hole for the next three nights because some idiot at the front desk fucked up the booking for the national moot court competition. My name is Ryan. Twenty-four. Top of my law school class, sharp tongue, and zero patience for bullshit. Especially not for the guy standing two feet away from me right now. Ethan fucking Kane. Same year, same school, same damn competition. The arrogant prick who had beaten me in every single debate we ever had. Tall, broad-shouldered, dark hair always perfectly messy, and a smirk that made me want to punch him and kiss him at the same time. We had hated each other for two straight years. Constant trash talk in class, dirty looks across the library, and one-upping eac