Todos los capítulos de Wet Dreams: The Ultimate Steamy Short Stories Collection: Capítulo 191 - Capítulo 200

He fucked me with the same controlled precision he had used at the card table—long strokes, exact depth, no wasted motion. When I tried to lift my hips to meet him he pinned them down with one hand. When my hands left the mattress above my head he stopped completely until I returned them. The denial was worse than roughness would have been. It left me open and aching and entirely at the mercy of the pace he chose.“You lost,” he said, voice low and steady above me. “You sat there and bled chips and still couldn’t make yourself walk away. This is what that decision costs. You take what I give you for the rest of the night. Nothing more. Nothing less.”He shifted the angle of his hips and the next thrust dragged over the place inside me that made my vision spark white at the edges. I cried out. He did it again. And again. The wet sound of him moving inside me filled the quiet loft, obscene and rhythmic. My thighs trembled. The need to come became a physical pressure that bordered on pai

I booked him because I was tired of being the one who decided everything.For years I had run my own firm, managed every crisis, chosen every risk, and ended every evening still holding the weight of other people’s problems. I was good at it. I was exhausted by it. I wanted one night where someone else held the structure and I was only required to follow.The agency was discreet and expensive. The profile I selected was sparse: Soren, late thirties, experienced, strict, no romance, no ongoing arrangements unless both parties requested a second booking after the first. His photographs were black-and-white and unsmiling. He looked like a man who did not waste motion.I filled out the detailed questionnaire with more honesty than I had used in any performance review. Hard limits. Soft limits. Preferred intensity. The particular flavor of control I wanted: firm, psychological, physical, verbal. I checked the boxes for impact, restraint, orgasm control, degradation t

He helped me sit up and held the glass while I drank. His free hand rested on the back of my neck, steady and warm. The contact was practical and grounding.“How is your head?”“Clear. Good.”“Any numbness, dizziness, or pain that is not muscle ache?”“No.”“Good.”He cleaned me with a warm cloth, thorough and unhurried, then pulled the sheet over my legs. He sat on the edge of the bed and watched me in silence for a while.“You took that well.”I looked at him. The collar lay on the side table. My body felt used in a deep, specific way that had nothing to do with ordinary sex.“I want to continue past midnight,” I said.He studied my face.“That requires a new agreement. The original booking ends at midnight. Anything after is a separate decision.”“I understand.”“What are you as

The next morning, he left a cup of coffee outside my bedroom door.No note.No explanation.I drank it anyway, still sticky between my legs from the night before.After that, the game became easier—and dirtier.I sat at the kitchen island while he cooked, crossing and uncrossing my legs beneath the counter, knowing the shorts I wore rode up high enough that if he glanced down he might see I wasn’t wearing anything underneath. I asked him questions I already knew the answers to just to make him look at me. I began choosing the seat beside him in the living room instead of the one across from him, close enough that I could feel the heat of his body and imagine what it would feel like if he simply reached over and put his hand between my legs.He responded in ways that would have been invisible to anyone else.His hand at the small of my back when he passed behind me—warm, lingering a second too long, his fingers spreading slightly like he wanted to slide them lower and cup my ass. The

For a long moment he just looked at me. The restraint in him was visible now—in the set of his shoulders, the controlled rise and fall of his chest, the way he seemed to be holding himself in place by force of will alone.“You should go upstairs,” he said.“Make me.”The words hung between us.I watched him fight himself. I watched the war happen behind his eyes—the part of him that had spent twelve years being careful slamming against the part that wanted to drag me across the island and take everything I was offering. My cunt throbbed in time with my pulse. I was so wet I could feel it slicking the insides of my thighs.He straightened slowly.“Go upstairs, Maya.”This time his voice was quieter. Rougher. Like the words cost him something.I stayed where I was for another few seconds, letting him see that I wasn’t afraid of the silence, or of him, or of what was building between us. Then I slid off the stool. The movement made my shirt shift against my nipples again. I felt his eyes