All Chapters of L*ST ZONE : Chapter 41 - Chapter 50

Mom’s engine faded into the morning traffic before the sky had even finished turning pink. The house settled into that heavy, expectant quiet I was starting to crave and dread in equal measure. Between my thighs the dull throb hadn’t eased since last night—every shift of my hips under the sheets sent fresh sparks racing up my spine, reminding me exactly where his fingers had been, how deep they’d pressed, how shamelessly I’d soaked his hand while Mom slept one floor above us.I hadn’t bothered putting panties back on after he left me wrecked on the couch. The cotton of my sleep shirt rode up around my waist now, cool air kissing bare skin. My hand was already there before I could talk myself out of it—two fingers sliding through slick folds, finding my clit swollen and hypersensitive. I circled slowly at first, teasing, then faster, hips lifting off the mattress in tiny, helpless jerks. My other hand found my nipple, pinching hard enough to make me gasp. I pictured him: the way his ja

The weekend came fast, too fast. Mom suggested the beach like it was the most innocent idea in the world—“We haven’t done a family outing in ages!”—and nobody argued. She packed coolers, towels, sunscreen; Aiden loaded the car with chairs and an umbrella; I threw on a bikini under a loose cover-up and tried not to think about how his eyes would track me all day.The drive was tense in the best way. Mom sat shotgun, singing off-key to old pop songs on the radio. Aiden drove, one hand on the wheel, the other resting on the gear shift—close enough that every time he shifted, his knuckles brushed my knee in the back seat. I kept my legs crossed tight, pretending to scroll my phone, but every graze sent heat straight between my thighs.We found a spot on the public stretch—crowded enough to feel safe, open enough that Mom could spread out her towel and immediately start people-watching with her giant sunglasses. She slathered on more sunscreen, chattering about how we should all go in the

He backed me against the cold metal side of the dryer, hands already under my cover-up, shoving the damp bikini bottoms down my thighs in one impatient tug. They tangled at my ankles; I kicked them off. His sweatpants hit the floor next. No underwear. He was already rock-hard, thick and flushed, the tip slick from how long he’d been holding back in the car.He lifted me like I weighed nothing—palms under my thighs, spreading me wide—and pinned me against the machine. My back arched; the metal chilled my spine through the thin fabric. His mouth found my throat—teeth first, then tongue—while he lined himself up and pushed in slow.One long, deep slide.I gasped—too loud—and his hand flew to my mouth, palm sealing tight.“Shh,” he breathed against my ear. “She’s right upstairs. Shower’s still running… but it won’t forever.”The water hissed faintly through the pipes overhead. Steady. For now.He started moving—slow at first, savoring the way my walls fluttered around him, the way I clenc

(Elena’s POV)I slipped out of the Eclipse Lounge through the side exit, the cool Atlanta night air hitting my flushed skin like a slap of reality. My legs still trembled faintly under the red dress—red like sin, like the way that boy had made me feel alive again. I kept the black lace mask clutched in my fist until I reached my car in the shadowed parking lot, then tossed it onto the passenger seat like evidence I needed to hide.God, what a night.My husband—Richard, that arrogant, self-satisfied prick—hadn’t touched me with anything resembling hunger in years. He climbed on top once a month like it was a chore, grunted a few times, rolled off, and snored within sixty seconds. Two children later, and he still acted like sex was something I should be grateful for, like I owed him for the mortgage and the private school tuition. I was forty, not dead. My body still craved—demanded—more than mechanical duty.That’s why I kept coming back to Eclipse. The club understood. They handed you

That morning, I woke up very early, just as she had asked me to. The thought of the money was already enough to pull me out of bed, so I freshened up quickly, grabbed my bag, and boarded the first bus heading to school. The streets were still quiet, the city barely awake. When I stepped into the classroom, she was already there waiting. The room was empty, the whole school almost silent at that hour—barely 6:30 a.m.. Yet she stood there calmly, as if she had been expecting me all along. Her eyes locked onto mine, and that same seductive smile from the last time slowly appeared on her lips. “Ethan, come closer,” she said softly. My heart pounded as I walked toward her, unsure of what exactly I had walked into but unable to turn back now. She watched me approach with quiet confidence before speaking again, her voice low and certain. “You’re such a darling,” she murmured. “I knew you wouldn’t reject an offer like this.” She paused, the tension between us thick in the silent classroom, th