All Chapters of Secrets Behind Closed Doors: Chapter 21 - Chapter 30

Dad’s business trip came at the perfect time. Or the worst. He’d left this morning with a quick kiss on my forehead and strict instructions “Stay with Marcus until I’m back. No arguments, Lily. You’re still my little girl.”I’d rolled my eyes and protested loudly. “Dad, I’m twenty! I can stay home alone.” But secretly, my pussy had clenched with filthy excitement at the thought of days under the same roof as Marcus. Sleeping just down the hall from the man whose cock invaded my dreams.Marcus hadn’t looked thrilled when Dad dropped me off with my bag, but he’d grunted in agreement. Now here I was, cooking dinner in his kitchen like I belonged there.I’d chosen the shortest denim skirt I owned,barely covering the curve of my ass,and a tight white tank top that hugged my full tits like a second skin. No bra. My hard nipples poked obviously against the thin fabric, and every movement made them rub deliciously. My pussy was already soaked, lips swollen and slippery, aching from hours of

Marcus kept me pinned face-down, ass up, his thick pierced cock buried deep in my spasming pussy. Every brutal thrust stretched me wider, the silver piercing dragging along my sensitive walls and hitting that perfect spot that made me see stars. I was drooling into the sheets, moaning like a bitch in heat as he railed me raw.“Fuck,Daddy,please, I’m so close,” I begged, pushing back to meet his punishing strokes. My virgin cunt was creaming all over his shaft, juices dripping down my thighs and soaking his heavy balls.He growled and reached around, slapping my swollen clit hard. “Cum then, you filthy little slut. Milk Daddy’s cock with that greedy pussy.”I shattered.My walls clenched violently around his thickness, gushing slick heat as the orgasm ripped through me. I screamed into the mattress, body shaking, pussy fluttering and squirting around every veined inch of his cock. Marcus didn’t stop. He pounded through my climax, skin slapping loudly against my reddened ass, drawing it

I slammed the front door so hard the frame rattled. My hands were still shaking as I jammed the key into the ignition of my beat-up Honda and peeled out of the driveway. Twenty-eight years old, and I’d just walked in on my husband of six years balls-deep in our neighbor’s younger sister. On our couch. The one I had picked out at IKEA.I didn’t cry. Not yet. Instead I drove, windows down, the late afternoon sun warm on my bare arms. My sundress clung to my skin from the stress sweat. I’d grabbed my purse and nothing else,no suitcase, no plan. Just the need to get the hell away from that house and that man who had spent years telling me I was “too uptight” in bed.An hour later the city gave way to dusty two-lane roads lined with scrub brush. A hand-painted sign on the side of the highway caught my eye: RIVERBEND BIKE RALLY – 2 MILES. Music thumped in the distance, deep bass and the roar of engines. I almost kept driving. But something in my chest flipped,a reckless little spark I hadn’

My skin still tingled where Jax’s thumb had traced my neck. The fire was dim now, but the heat between the three of us felt hotter than ever. I shifted in my chair, suddenly aware of how little I wore under Jax’s big t-shirt,my sundress thin, no bra, just panties. My body was humming in a way I hadn’t felt in years.“I should probably head inside,” I said, voice a little rough. But I didn’t stand up.Rico’s hand stayed on my knee, his thumb still drawing those lazy circles. “You don’t have to.”Jax stood first, tall and solid, and held out his hand. “Come on.”I took it. His palm was rough, warm, and he didn’t let go as we walked back into the clubhouse. Rico followed close behind, his presence like a second layer of heat at my back. The main room was empty now, just the low sound of the fridge and a single light over the bar. It felt private. Dangerous in the best way.Inside the small bedroom they’d given me, Jax flicked on the lamp by the bed. Soft yellow light glowed. The bed looke

I gripped the steering wheel tighter, my knuckles turning white against the worn leather. The snow was coming down in thick, angry sheets now, blocking out the road ahead like someone had dumped a bag of flour over the windshield. My little rental car sputtered up the narrow mountain road, wipers slapping uselessly. I should’ve turned back hours ago, but after the fight with Jake,after he’d packed his stuff from our “romantic getaway” cabin and left me there with nothing but a slammed door and a text saying we were done,I just drove. Anywhere. Away.My chest still hurt thinking about it. Three years together, and he’d called me boring. Too wrapped up in my books and my quiet life. “You never let loose, Sarah. It’s like fucking a librarian who forgot how to read the room.” The words burned fresh in my mind even now, two days later.The car fishtailed on a patch of ice. I gasped, heart slamming, and eased off the gas. The GPS had died twenty minutes ago. Nothing but white and dark trees