Todos os capítulos de Insatiable Cravings: Capítulo 1 - Capítulo 10

The gravel crunched under the tyres of the old estate car as Dad—well, Richard, my stepdad—pulled up to our sprawling manor in Surrey. I'd been away at uni for months, buried in lectures and late-night shags with whoever caught my eye, but home always called me back. The place loomed like a gothic wet dream: ivy-clinging stone walls, tall chimneys puffing lazy smoke, and those massive bay windows that hid all sorts of filthy secrets. I grabbed my duffel from the boot, my short plaid skirt riding up just enough to flash the edge of my white lace knickers. Innocent, that's me—or so they all think."Delilah, love! There you are!" Richard's voice boomed from the front steps, deep and gravelly like aged whisky. He was in his early fifties, but built like a fucking oak tree—broad shoulders straining his crisp shirt, salt-and-pepper hair cropped close, and those piercing blue eyes that always lingered a beat too long. He strode over, enveloping me in a bear hug that lifted me off my feet. Hi

The next morning dawned grey and drizzly, typical Surrey shite, but the manor felt charged, like the air before a thunderstorm. I'd slept like a cat in heat, tossing with dreams of Jake's cum-splattered abs and Richard's rough hands. Woke with my pussy lips puffy, sheets twisted between my thighs from unconscious grinding. No time for a proper wank—had to keep the tease simmering. Slipped into yoga pants that hugged every curve like a second skin, cameltoe blatant if you looked close, and a thin sports bra that did fuck-all to hide my stiff nipples. Hair in a messy ponytail, no makeup beyond lip gloss that made my mouth look perpetually cock-sucking ready. Innocent athlete vibe, perfect. Downstairs, the kitchen was empty save for the hum of the fridge and the patter of rain on mullioned windows. I poured coffee, black and scalding, inhaling the bitter steam as it curled up. Bent to check the dishwasher—arse thrust out, fabric stretching taut over my cheeks, the seam digging into my s

Chapter 4: Midnight TeaseThe clock on my nightstand glowed 2:17 a.m., red digits mocking my insomnia. The manor creaked like an old lover settling into bed—winds rattling the ivy against windows, distant rain pattering the slate roof. I'd tossed for hours, sheets tangled around my legs, pussy still tender from the bath-time wank, clit hypersensitive from Daddy's stare. Dreams fragmented: Jake's thigh grind morphing into Richard's box-lifting gropes, their cocks duelling inside me. Woke drenched, nightie rucked up to my waist, fingers sticky from a half-conscious clit rub. Thirst clawed my throat—proper thirst, not just for water—and the kitchen fridge called with its chilled bottles.Slipped from bed silent, bare feet padding marble floors. Silk nightie whispered against my skin: pale pink, tissue-thin, hem skimming mid-thigh, spaghetti straps slipping off one shoulder to bare the swell of my tit. No knickers, of course—pussy lips slick and parted from arousal, a cool draught kissing

I couldn't believe how quickly things had spiralled after that night with Richard in the study. My stepfather's hands on me, his cock buried deep inside my pussy while he whispered those filthy promises of possession—it had left me aching for more, even as guilt twisted in my gut like a knife. But guilt was just another layer to my deception, wasn't it? The innocent little uni girl who batted her eyelashes and played the dutiful daughter. No one suspected the cravings that burned beneath, the way I'd sneak glances at Ethan, my stepbrother, across the breakfast table, wondering how his broad shoulders would feel pinning me down.Ethan was twenty-five, two years older than me, with that tousled dark hair and piercing blue eyes that always seemed to see right through my facade. He'd been away on some business trip for the family firm, but now he was back, striding into the manor like he owned it—which, in a way, he did. Our parents' divorce had left Richard in charge, but Ethan was the g

The days blurred into a haze of stolen touches and hidden gasps, my body a battlefield where Ethan and Richard waged their silent war through me. Ethan's jealousy simmered like a pot ready to boil over; he'd taken to watching me constantly, his eyes narrowing whenever Richard lingered too long at breakfast or brushed past me in the hall. I thrived on it, the edge sharpening every encounter, making my skin tingle with anticipation.It was a humid Thursday evening when the storm finally broke. Mum had extended her trip, leaving the manor echoing with our secrets. I was in the pool house, changing after a swim, towel draped loosely around my hips, water droplets tracing paths down my breasts. The door burst open without a knock, and Ethan stormed in, face twisted in rage. 'What the fuck is going on with you and him?' he snarled, slamming the door shut.I froze, heart slamming against my ribs, but feigned confusion, letting the towel slip just enough to expose the curve of my hip. 'What a