All Chapters of Irresistible Sins (An erotica collection): Chapter 71 - Chapter 80

Chapter 4: Claimed from BehindThe first light of dawn filtered through the heavy velvet curtains of the royal chambers, but sleep was the last thing on either of our minds. Thorne had woken me with his mouth between my legs again, licking and sucking until I came hard on his tongue, his thick fingers stretching me open for what was coming next.Now I was on all fours in the center of the massive bed, knees spread wide, back arched deeply, ass raised high like an offering. My cheek pressed into the cool silk sheets, hands fisting them tightly as I trembled with anticipation and leftover slick.Thorne knelt behind me, his massive frame casting a shadow over my smaller body. One big hand stroked slowly up my spine while the other gripped my hip possessively. His cock, that devastating nine-inch monster, rested heavy and hot against my ass cheek, already fully hard again, leaking pre-cum onto my skin.“Such a perfect view,” he growled, voice still rough from sleep and lust. “My little om

Chapter 1: The text came on a Tuesday. Hey. I know this is out of nowhere. I’m in a situation with housing, long story, and I’m looking for somewhere short term. A Friend said you had a spare room. Completely understand if not. …Dara Priya read it twice. Then she sat on her kitchen counter and read it a third time, she looked at the name and thought about the summer ten years ago when she was twenty-two and Dara was twenty-one and they’d spent three months in the same friend group at the same festival job in the same small coastal town. Back then something had almost happened and then didn’t and then Priya had gone back to London and Dara had gone somewhere else and that had been that. Ten years. She typed: The room’s free. When do you need it. Dara replied in four minutes. End of the week if that’s not too soon. It was too soon, but at the same time it was also fine. End of the week is fine, Priya typed. I’ll send the address. She put her phone down and sat on t

Chapter 3: The kitchen was warm. They came inside from the back step slowly, no urgency, just the natural move from cold to warm, the door closing behind them, the garden going dark outside the window. Dara put the mug in the sink. Priya stood in the middle of the kitchen and watched her and felt the house differently than she had all week, not a space to be navigated carefully anymore. Something else. Dara turned around. They looked at each other across the kitchen. “Hi,” Priya said again. Softer. Dara crossed to her. She kissed her properly this time, both hands coming up to Priya’s face, tilting her, kissing her the way the harbor wall had been heading toward ten years ago before someone called them away. Deep and certain and nothing careful about it now that the careful version had already been done on the back step. Priya grabbed her waist and pulled her in. They kissed in the kitchen for a long time, learning each other, the specific way Dara kissed which was t

Chapter 5: The spare room became a studio on a Saturday. Not dramatically, just Priya moving the winter coats to the wardrobe in the hall, the unlabeled boxes to under the bed, the accumulated storage of eight months finding other places to be. Dara helped without being asked, carrying things and asking where and putting them there without reorganizing them, which Priya noted and appreciated. By noon the room was empty. They stood in the doorway and looked at the north-facing light coming through the window, diffused and even, the kind of light that didn’t perform itself. Just showed things as they were. “Good,” Dara said. “It needs a desk,” Priya said. “Obviously.” “And shelving.” “Obviously.” “You’re very free with your obviouslys for someone who suggested this two days ago.” Dara looked at her sideways. “Are you going to do it or are you going to find reasons not to.” Priya looked at the empty room. At the light. At the eleven folders labeled maybe that had been sitting

Monday evening arrived wrapped in another downpour. I sat in the front row of Professor Blackwood’s Advanced Literary Theory seminar, legs crossed tightly under the narrow desk, trying to focus on his lecture instead of the way his deep voice curled around words like foreplay.He was in full professor mode, charcoal trousers hugging powerful thighs, crisp white shirt with the sleeves rolled once more, exposing those veined forearms. His hair was slightly tousled from running his fingers through it while he paced. Every time he turned to write on the whiteboard, the fabric stretched across his broad back and shoulders. And every time his dark eyes swept the room, they lingered on me a fraction longer than anyone else.I was soaked again. My black pencil skirt rode high on my thighs, and underneath it, my lace panties were already damp from the constant low thrum of arousal that had followed me since Thursday night. I kept shifting in my seat, the seam of the skirt pressing against my