《Wet Dreams: The Ultimate Steamy Short Stories Collection》全部章節：第 151 章 - 第 160 章

He was hard. Achingly, obscenely hard. The sweatpants couldn't contain him. When I wrapped my hand around him through the fabric, he hissed through his teeth and gripped the counter beside my head.I pushed the waistband down.His cock sprang free — thick, long, flushed dark at the head, a bead of pre-cum glistening at the tip. I wanted it in my mouth. In my pussy. Everywhere."Condom," I managed."Wallet. Back pocket. Jeans.""Where are your jeans?""Bathroom. Upstairs.""You're kidding.""I am absolutely not kidding about condom access during a kitchen fuck in my mother's house."I laughed. He laughed. We stood there, tangled and half-mad, laughing while his cock throbbed against my stomach and my pussy was still pulsing and the jazz record started skipping.He grabbed me. Hands under my thighs, lifting me without effort. I wrapped my legs around him and felt his cock press against my entrance — hot, thick, insistent."Upstairs," I breathed."Upstairs," he agreed.His room was at th

The footage was an accident.That's what I told myself at 2:17 AM, sitting alone in the security office of the Bellmont Grand Hotel, watching a man I had absolutely no business watching do things I had absolutely no business seeing.I was supposed to be reviewing the lobby cameras for a missing luggage claim. Guest in room 614, Hermès carry-on, blah blah blah. My job: find it, flag it, file it, go home and finger myself thinking about a man who had no idea I existed.Instead, I was seven screens deep into the pool-level feeds at an hour when God himself was probably sleeping, watching the hotel's head of maintenance swim laps in his underwear.Elijah Cross.Six-foot-three. Built like someone had taken a physics degree and applied it directly to his fucking body. Forty-one years old, divorced, been at the Bellmont for five years. I'd been here for eight months, and for seven of those months I'd been constructing an elaborate internal architecture of denial that said I found him profess

Not carefully. Not the way a coworker kisses when they're testing boundaries and wondering if this will get them sued.He kissed me the way a man kisses when he's been swimming laps at two AM to burn off the wanting and it absolutely hasn't worked.His mouth was firm and demanding and tasted like chlorine and heat and something underneath that was just him. His tongue found mine immediately, no hesitation, no pretence. The contact sent a shock through me that made my knees buckle and my pussy clench.I grabbed his shoulders and kissed him back with every ounce of frustration and fantasy and late-night longing I'd been carrying for five months. My hands slid across wet skin and the muscles underneath. My fingers dug into the shoulders I'd been staring at on camera thirty-one, and they felt better than I'd imagined. Harder. Warmer. Real in a way that pixels and screens could never deliver.He lifted me onto the desk like I weighed nothing. Monitors rattled. Something crashed to the floo

The plan was simple.Seduce Dominic Ashford. Steal him from Hale Industries. Gut my father's rival from the inside out using nothing but a cocktail dress, a complete absence of conscience, and whatever was currently dripping down the inside of my thighs.Simple.Except nobody told me he'd look like that.I'd done my research. LinkedIn. Trade publications. A discreet background check that cost four hundred dollars and a favour I'd never get back. Dominic Ashford, thirty-four, VP of product development at Hale Industries. MIT graduate. Three patents. The kind of brain that made companies go to war.His LinkedIn photo was a lie.It showed a man in a conservative suit with a polite, corporate expression. Forgettable. Safe.The man who walked into the Gaston Hotel bar at 8:47 PM was neither.He was tall — six-one, six-two, I couldn't think straight enough to measure — with dark hair pushed back from a face that should have belonged to something more dangerous than a fucking product develop

I stepped toward him instead of answering. Stood in front of him — close enough to feel the warmth coming off his body, close enough to smell his cologne and his skin underneath. Close enough to see the line of his jaw in the fragmented light."Your move," he said.I put my hand on his chest.His heartbeat was there — fast, regular, solid. Real. The hand beneath my palm was warm and slightly damp from the bar. When I looked up at him, his expression was completely open. Vulnerable. Like he'd decided the risk was worth it.I undid the next button on his shirt. The one I'd been staring at for the entire conversation. His skin appeared — warm, smooth, a scattering of dark hair across his chest. The scar on his ribs that I'd seen in some corporate photo and had spent probably way too much time fantasizing about."Tell me where you got this," I said, tracing the scar with my fingertip."Rock climbing accident. Freshman year. I was being stupid. Fell twenty feet and got impaled on a rock ou