All Chapters of Illict Affair (SPG): Chapter 11 - Chapter 17

One week had passed since the world ended for Lorenzo Rossi. Inside the grand bedroom of the mansion, the air was heavy with the smell of expensive whiskey and the stale scent of sorrow. The curtains were drawn tight, blocking out the beautiful Tuscan sun. Lorenzo didn't want the light. He wanted the dark, just like the hole in his chest where his heart used to be.He was sprawled across the massive bed, his shirt unbuttoned and messy. His beard had grown out, and his eyes were bloodshot from a lack of sleep and too much alcohol. He held a half-empty bottle of hard liquor in his hand, staring at the ceiling as if waiting for it to collapse on him. All his phones were off. The world could burn for all he cared. Without Elena, there was no reason to lead, no reason to fight, and no reason to live."You’re pathetic," a soft, sharp voice said from the doorway.Lorenzo blinked, thinking it was a ghost. He didn't even hear the door open. He slowly turned his head, his vision blurry.Standin

"Say it," Marcus murmured. His thumb traced the edge of her bra strap, feather-light. "Just once. Be honest."Her voice, when it came, was barely a whisper. "Yes.""Louder.""Yes." The word cracked out of her, half-defiant, half-surrendered. "I want it."The transformation was immediate. Marcus's mouth crushed against hers—no tentative exploration, just a claiming. His tongue pushed past her lips, and she met it with her own, a duel rather than a dance. Behind her, Theo's hands released her wrists and instead gripped her hips, fingers digging into the wool of her skirt."On the desk," Marcus said, breaking the kiss. His voice had dropped an octave.Theo lifted her bodily, setting her on the edge of her own desk. Papers scattered. Her meticulously organized lecture notes cascaded to the floor like confetti. Some dark part of her celebrated the mess.Hands everywhere now. She couldn't track them all. Someone—maybe Jason—pulled her blouse open, buttons pinging against the floor. Her skir

“I couldn’t sleep.” Her voice shredded itself against the quiet. “I keep feeling it. All of you. Inside me. And I—” A swallow. “I need it again.”Marcus leaned his forearm against the doorjamb, blocking the entry with his bulk. “You need what.”“Cock.” The word fell out of her, pathetically eager. “Your cock. Please. I’ll do anything.”His mouth twitched. “Anything’s a lot of ground to cover, Professor.”“Marcus.” She reached for his waistband. Her fingers were cold against the warm skin of his hip. “Use me. I don’t want to think anymore. I don’t want to be in charge. Just—fuck the lecture out of my head.”He let her wait through three full breaths. Then his hand closed over hers, guiding it beneath the elastic to the thick, heated length already stirring there.“Narrow bed,” he warned, stepping backward. “You’ll have to be quiet. Thin walls.”“I don’t care.”The bed was a twin, shoved against cinderblock, tangled sheets smelling of boy-sweat and cedar deodorant. Haylie crawled onto

"You heard me." He wrenched her upright, spun her, pressed her chest against the mahogany surface where minutes ago lay budget proposals and departmental memos. Her cheek flattened against the cool wood. "Spread your legs, Professor. You've been giving it away to teenagers. Now give it to a man who's waited forty years to hear those words from a colleague."Her skirt. Jack's gnarled hands rucked the dove-gray wool up around her waist. The sound of her pantyhose tearing—that familiar ripping silk—drew a groan from someone across the table."No underwear," Jack announced. "She's bare under here. Comes to faculty meetings with her cunt ready and nothing between it and the world.""Because they make me," Haylie gasped. "The boys. Rule number one. No panties on campus. Ever. So they can take me whenever they want. In the library stacks. The locker room. The greenhouse after botany lab."Jack's belt buckle clinked. His cock, when it pressed against the cleft of her ass, felt ancient and hot