All Chapters of Raw Cravings: Tales of Filthy Passion : Chapter 111 - Chapter 120

Elena had been hired on as deck crew only three days ago, and desperate for adventure after quitting her dead-end waitressing job back in Miami. At twenty-four, with long dark hair usually tied in a braid, she thought she knew what she was getting into. Luxury yacht. Rich guests. Hard work under the Caribbean sun.She had no idea the real storm would be Captain Marcus Kane.He was forty-two, broad-shouldered and eyes the color of deep ocean. He ran the 180-foot superyacht with an iron fist. The guests barely saw him; he preferred the bridge or the shadows. But Elena felt his gaze on her constantly. Every time she bent to coil a rope, every time her white crew tank top clung to her sweat-damp breasts after a long watch, his stare lingered like a physical touch.Tonight the sea was calm, almost unnervingly so. The guests were asleep in their lavish cabins after a day of champagne and sunbathing. The other crew members had turned in. Elena stood on the aft deck, the yacht rocked gently o

Sophia had been following Jax “Iron” Reyes on social media for over a year. The man was a six-foot-three of ripped, tanned muscle, with messy dark hair, a cocky grin, and abs that looked photoshopped even in raw gym footage. His private training sessions were notoriously expensive, reviews whispered about boundaries blurring, but Sophia, a 27-year-old marketing executive with a toned but slightly neglected body after months of desk work, was desperate for results.And maybe a little desperate for something else.She hired him for a four-week private program at her upscale apartment. Today was session one.Jax arrived right on time, duffel bag slung over one massive shoulder. His tank top clung to his broad chest, grey shorts did absolutely nothing to hide the impressive bulge swinging between his thick thighs.“Sophia, right?” His deep voice carried that signature confident rumble. “Ready to get sweaty with me?”Her pussy twitched. “Absolutely.”They set up in her spacious living room

Isabella lounged on the shaded veranda of her estate, sipping iced lemonade in a skimpy white sundress that clung to her curves. At twenty-nine, the divorced heiress had everything. But lately, her eyes kept drifting to the one man who tended it all.Rafael.The gardener was a quiet, muscular force of nature. Thirty-eight, with deeply tanned skin, broad shoulders and powerful arms corded from years of manual labor. His dark hair was usually damp with sweat, and his strong jaw stayed set in concentration. He rarely spoke more than a few words, but Isabella had caught him watching her more than once, those intense brown eyes lingering on her legs, her breasts, the sway of her hips as she walked the grounds.This hot afternoon, Isabella wandered into the gardens wearing nothing but the thin sundress, no bra, no panties. She told herself it was for comfort. Deep down, she knew better.Rafael was in the rose beds, shirtless now, sweat glistening on his back and chest. His jeans hung low on

The old Blackwood Manor, its gothic spires piercing the night sky. Twenty-five-year-old Riley Harper had joined the investigation as a favor to her friend’s production company, documenting the notorious haunted estate for a new paranormal series. She was a skeptic at heart, but the paycheck was too good to pass up.The man leading the investigation was Elias Crowe, legendary ghost hunter, ex-military, and built like a weapon. Tall, broad-shouldered, with piercing dark eyes, a scruffy jaw, and a deep voice that commanded attention. His black tactical gear hugged every muscle as he moved through the decaying halls with quiet confidence, EVP recorder in one hand and flashlight in the other.“Stay close, Riley,” he murmured as they entered the grand ballroom, dust swirling in their flashlight beams. “This place doesn’t play nice after midnight.”A cold breeze brushed her neck. Riley shivered. “Probably just drafts.”Elias smirked. “Keep telling yourself that.”The investigation started no

The secluded cove was paradise, Maya had booked the private surf lesson on a whim after a brutal breakup. She needed something to make her feel alive again. At twenty-eight, with a toned yoga body, sun-kissed caramel skin, and long dark waves, she was used to turning heads. But today she wanted more than attention. She wanted to be taken.Jax was waiting on the beach like a goddamn fantasy. Six-foot-three of pure athletic perfection, broad shoulders, ripped abs glistening, and piercing blue eyes that sparkled with trouble. His board shorts hung low on his hips, revealing that delicious V-line and the outline of something impressively thick even when soft.“You must be Maya,” he said, voice deep and lazy like rolling waves. He looked her up and down slowly, taking in her tiny red bikini that barely contained her full, perky tits and the way the bottoms hugged her round ass. “Ready to ride some waves?”The double meaning hit her immediately. She smirked. “I’m ready for whatever you’ve g