All Chapters of Wet Dreams: The Ultimate Steamy Short Stories Collection: Chapter 181 - Chapter 189

Sometimes, late at night when the floor is empty, I go in there alone, rest my hands on the warm glass, and remember.And sometimes—on the nights when the longing gets too sharp—I take my phone out and send a single message across the ocean.Printer’s free.The reply always comes within minutes.I know.And even though he is an ocean away, even though we haven’t touched in months, the memory of his cock stretching me open over that machine is still enough to make me wet.Some places stay with you.Some men do too.I was ruined in the best possible way.And every time the copy machine hums, I smile.Because I know exactly what it sounds like when it’s being used for something other than paper.I keep a single sheet of paper in the bottom drawer of my desk.It’s blank. Completely blank. The only thing special about it is that it was printed on that copy machine the night Richard Vaughn walked in on us. I took it as a souvenir after Nathan left that night. Sometimes I take it out and run

He rose slowly. The air between us shrank until I could feel the warmth of his chest almost brushing my breasts.“You’ll live,” he said. “But you’re not walking on it much longer tonight.”“Lucky me.”Another beat of silence. Then his voice dropped lower, quieter, meant only for the small dark space between us.“You’re not scared of the dark.”“No.”“You’re scared of me.”I should have lied. The words sat ready on my tongue. Instead I heard myself say, “A little.”“Good.”The single word landed like a hand between my legs. My cunt clenched hard around nothing. I pressed my thighs together and felt the first slick evidence of how my body was already betraying me.He didn’t touch me again for a long time. We stood in the thick black, listening to the building settle around us—the distant groan of pipes, the soft tick of cooling metal. My pulse kept time against my throat. Every inhale brought more of his scent: rain, clean skin, something darker and warmer underneath that made my mouth

“You’re going to come again,” he ordered, hips snapping harder. “On my cock this time. I want to feel this pretty cunt milking me while I fill you up.”I shattered with a raw scream that bounced off the walls. My walls pulsed hard around him, gripping and releasing in waves that made him groan low in his throat. He fucked me through it without slowing, chasing his own release, the rhythm turning shorter and more brutal until he buried himself as deep as he could go and came with a guttural, almost pained sound. Thick, hot pulses flooded me—so much that I felt it immediately begin to leak out around his cock and drip down the inside of my thigh.We stayed locked together, breathing hard, the elevator still dark and silent around us except for the sound of our lungs and the soft drip of cum hitting the floor.Eventually he eased out of me. A thick river of his release followed, sliding down my leg. He reached between us in the dark, gathered some of it on his fingers, and pushed it deli

I should have left. Instead I said, “You don’t have to keep working while I’m here. It’s my house. I can hire people.”He drove the last nail home with two precise hits, then finally looked at me over his shoulder. Sweat had darkened the hair at his temples. His chest rose and fell steadily.“You can hire people after you decide whether you’re keeping the place or selling it out from under me. Until then I work.”The words were flat. Not cruel. Just true.I went back inside with the floor plan and the image of his bare back burned behind my eyes.That night I cooked because the alternative was letting him feed me again and I needed the small control. He sat at the table and ate what I put in front of him without commentary. We spoke only about practical things—which rooms still had working radiators, where the water shut-off was, how the generator kicked on when the power dropped.When I stood to clear the plates he said, “Leave them.”

I obeyed. The sheets were cool. He climbed over me, settled between my thighs, and ran the head of his cock through my wetness once, twice, coating himself. Then he pushed in with one slow, relentless stroke that forced the air out of my lungs.The stretch was intense. I felt every inch. When he bottomed out he stayed there, deep, letting me feel how full I was, before he started to move.He fucked me like he had all the time in the world and no intention of being gentle. Long, deep strokes that dragged over every sensitive place inside me. When I tried to meet his hips he pinned them down with one hand and kept the rhythm he wanted. The other hand braced beside my head. He watched my face the entire time.“This cunt is mine for the night,” he said, voice low and rough. “You don’t come until I say. You don’t close your eyes. You take what I give you and you look at me while you do it.”I nodded, past words.He sh