All Chapters of Irresistible Sins (An erotica collection): Chapter 91 - Chapter 100

We hear a car outside.We both freeze.Edmund is off the couch before I can blink, grabbing his sweatpants off the floor, pulling them up. I’m scrambling for my shorts, my underwear, yanking everything back on with hands that won’t cooperate because they’re still shaking from twenty minutes ago. My hair is everywhere. The couch cushions are visibly displaced. The whole room smells like sex.The car passes without stopping.We both stand there in the middle of the living room listening to it fade down the street and then there’s silence and I press both hands over my face and try to remember how to breathe normally.“That wasn’t him,” Edmund says.“I know.”“We have time.”“I know.” I drop my hands and look at the couch and start fixing the cushions because I need something to do with my body right now or I’m going to lose my mind. “How much time do you think we actually have?”He checks his phone. The cracked screen lights up. “He said six. It’s just past four.”Two hours.Two hours a

I slept for eleven hours.I know because I checked my phone when I woke up and it was seven in the morning and I had fallen into bed at eight the previous night like a man who had been unplugged. No dreams. No tossing. Just the deep black nothing of a body that had finally hit its absolute limit and powered down completely.For approximately four seconds after waking I felt fine.Then I remembered.I lay there staring at the ceiling with the memory assembling itself in full detail whether I wanted it to or not. The door. The stillness. Fifteen seconds that my own brain had counted and filed and apparently intended to keep in permanent storage. The sound he made. The size of him heavy and thick in his own hand and the way his stomach…I turned over and pressed my face into the pillow.Joshua’s bed was empty. Already gone, probably to his six AM run, the kind of disciplined morning routine that I had always found mildly irritating and currently found enormously relieving because it mean

He pushes in slow. So slow it should be illegal. I feel everything, every fraction of an inch, the impossible stretch of him forcing me open, my body resisting and then yielding and then gripping him like it has decided this is exactly where he belongs and it will not be taking questions. I have both fists buried in his pillow and my face pressed into it and I am breathing the way they taught us in our first year clinical skills module except none of those instructors had this specific situation in mind. “Breathe,” Joshua says behind me. Low and controlled but the control is costing him something, I can hear it. “I am breathing.” “You’re holding it.” I exhale. Long and slow. He pushes deeper and I make a sound into the pillow that I feel in my entire skeleton. He is thick. I knew this. I had the visual evidence filed in permanent storage since two nights ago. But knowing and feeling are separated by a distance so vast they might as well be different subjects entirely and right

The beach house was even more stunning than the photos Mia had shown me. Whitewashed walls, floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the ocean, and a private infinity pool that seemed to melt into the horizon. I’d arrived two hours ago, suitcase in hand, excited for our post-graduation girls’ week. But Mia’s flight got delayed, again. “Dad’s there, he’ll take care of you until I arrive tomorrow!” she’d texted cheerfully. “Make yourself at home!” Mr. Alexander Kane, Alex to his friends, but I’d always called him Mr. Kane, was nothing like the stern, distant father I’d imagined from Mia’s stories. He opened the door wearing a simple white linen shirt unbuttoned at the top and swim trunks that showed off powerful, tanned legs. At forty-five, he looked like he could still bench-press twice my weight. Broad shoulders, hair that was just the right amount of messy, and piercing blue eyes that seemed to see right through people. “Sophia,” he said, voice deep and warm as he took my bag. “Mia to

Morning light streamed through the floor-to-ceiling windows of the master bedroom, warming my naked skin. I woke up tangled in Alex’s sheets, his heavy arm draped possessively over my waist. My body ached in the best way, pussy sore and still sticky from the two loads he’d pumped into me last night. The guilt hit me the second I remembered where I was. This was Mia’s father. My best friend’s dad. And I’d let him fuck me raw on his bed while she texted me innocent updates. Alex stirred behind me, his morning wood pressing hot and thick against my ass. His hand slid up to cup my breast, thumb lazily circling my nipple. “Morning, baby,” he murmured, voice rough with sleep. “Sleep well?” I turned in his arms, cheeks burning. “Alex… Mia’s flight lands this afternoon. She’ll be here by evening.” His blue eyes darkened, but not with worry, with hunger. “Then we have a few hours left. I plan to use every single one.” Before I could protest, he rolled me onto my back and settled between