All Chapters of Dirty Desires: Short story Collection : Chapter 111 - Chapter 120

Jasmine's legs had gone numb by the time the back door opened. She'd watched everything through the partition, Daisy's shape jerking in the front seat, the fog on the glass, the sounds coming through even with the engine off. Her thighs were pressed together so tight they ached."Out." Nicolas said, and the word was a key turning.She got out on shaking legs with tess right behind her."On the hood." Nicolas said. "Both of you. Hands flat."The car was cold. She pressed her palms down and felt the leftover warmth of the engine through the paint, and heard Tess settle beside her. Nicolas walked around behind them, and she held her breath, waiting.His hands landed on her hips first. He dragged her skirt up around her waist, and the air hit the backs of her thighs. His palm came down on her ass once and she gasped and pushed back against the hood."Too many secrets tonight." he said in a low voice. "You think I do not know what you three were whispering in the back seat. You think I can

The journal was heavy. I stood in the dark of the observation gallery and held it in both hands. Cas stood close behind me. Below the glass, the woman had gone still under the man's mouth. Her wrists were tied and slack."You locked the door." I said. My voice was steadier than I felt.He did not move. "You can unlock it. The key is in the lock, on your side. Nothing here holds you, Wren. That is the first rule. It never bends."I should have turned around. I should have grabbed the key and walked out of here. I looked down at the journal. "He never wrote to me." My voice came out thin. "Not once. Not a card, not a check, not a call on my birthday. Four years of nothing. Then he dies and leaves me a club and a contract and a notebook full of..." I stopped talking and swallowed. "What is this, exactly?""His rules." Cas said. "His notes on every member, every session, every limit he ever agreed to. And his private writing. The parts he never showed anyone."Through the glass the man li

The Elevator dropped six inches and the lights died. Emma grabbed the railing, her briefcase swinging into her hip, and for a few seconds she couldn’t hear anything. The emergency strip blinked on, a dull amber line on the ceiling. "Fuck." said a man's voice, off to her left."Fuck is right." she said, and her voice came out steadier than she felt.He stood at the control panel with his palm on the call button, still pressing it. Tall, dark hair, sleeves rolled up, tie loose. "Michael." he said."Emma."The intercom crackled, and a voice asked if they were okay. Michael answered it. Floor fourteen of forty one, two people, no injuries, they'd wait. Emma set her briefcase down and sat on the bench along the back wall."Fourteen floors down, forty one up." he said, hanging up. "They've got a crew on it. Could be twenty minutes. Could be two hours.""Could be the zombie apocalypse."He laughed. "You work here?”"Twenty seventh floor. Estate law. I spend all day telling grieving widows w

The kiss went on until Emma pulled back first breathing hard, palms flat on his shoulders, and in the dark his eyes had gone black and wide."Truth." she said. "I lied.""About what?""About wanting you to kiss me before the power came back." She shifted on his lap, and both of them went very still. "I want it to stay off."His hands tightened on her waist. "That's the best lie you've told all night.""It's not a lie." She leaned in, mouth at his ear. "I'm not done asking you questions.""Ask.""When you're alone at night, two in the morning, what do you think about?"He laughed, low. "You want the PG version or the real one.""The real one. That's the whole point.”His hands slid down her hips, thumbs pressing the bone under her dress. "I think about a woman's mouth." he said. "Not a face. Just the mouth. What it would feel like to have somebody want me like that again. To have somebody take me in her hands like I mattered." He paused. "Your turn. What do you keep in the dark?"Heat

The apartment was cheap for a reason and Mara found the reason in the first hour. It was the smell. Old dust and something floral gone sour, like a bouquet left in a hot car for a week. She hauled her last box through the door and dropped it on the floor with a thud that made the whole building groan. The floorboards complained under her boots. She did not care.She had left Daniel on a Tuesday. That was three weeks ago and she still counted the days like a wound. He had stood in their kitchen holding a coffee mug and told her he thought they should see other people, as if that were a reasonable thing to say to someone you had shared a bed with for four years. She had thrown the mug at the wall. It had not shattered the way she wanted. It had bounced and rolled under the couch like it was embarrassed for both of them.Now she was here, in a third floor walkup with a radiator that clanked and a bathroom door that did not close all the way. The previous tenant had left things behind. A