Lahat ng Kabanata ng Naughty Tales: A Dark Collection Of Steamy Stories : Kabanata 21 - Kabanata 30

THE NEXT STORYKira It’s New Year’s Eve, and in just a couple hours, this miserable, sexless year will finally die. Twelve months. No sex. No close calls. Not even a halfway decent kiss. Just me, my vibrator, and the hollow kind of ache that doesn’t go away no matter how many times you take the edge off alone. It’s not like I’ve been holding out for candlelight and grand gestures. I just want someone to take control, to ruin me in a way that doesn’t ask permission or apologize afterward. I don't want to be known as the nice girl who smiles on cue, apologizes when she doesn’t need to, and never asks for too much. I’ve been folding myself down into shapes that made other people comfortable, chasing a version of womanhood that never really belonged to me. Tonight? I’m going to get exactly what I want, as long as my nerves hold out. And they are pretty frayed, standing in line outside Fantasies. Heart pounding. Hands clammy. My ticket’s been folded and unfolded so many times it’s bar

Kira“There he is.” Emily's voice got all soft as we made our way through the packed lounge. The way she said it gave me chills. And then I saw him. He stuck out from the rest of the crowd. Leaning against the wall with an easy confidence that shouldn’t have been so devastating, he looked every inch the kind of man you didn’t walk away from. Dark jeans hugged his long legs in a way that made my mouth dry, and his black shirt stretched across his broad chest like it had been tailored to tease.His sleeves strained just slightly around muscular forearms, and the way he rolled them up, just enough to expose tan skin and veins that disappeared beneath them, made my stomach tighten. His tousled dark hair looked artfully reckless, as if someone had just run their fingers through it. And God, that stubble, just enough to add an edge of trouble to his dangerously charming smirk. Then there were his eyes—rich, warm brown, steady, assessing, knowing. The second they looked at me, my

Kira Liam left it up to me, and my pulse kicked into overdrive. This was my moment, and I wasn’t about to let it slip—I was going to go after exactly what I wanted. "Since we're here…" My fingers curled around his wrist, my pulse thrumming beneath his skin. "Might as well start here." I steered him toward a shadowy corner, one of those deep leather couches tucked away in the back. He followed without a hint of hesitation, and a little rush hit me at being the one to finally take control. I eased him down beside me, his body warm and solid against the chill of the leather. This felt so damn right, and my whole body was buzzing. The screen flickered, pulling us into a scene with a “professor” and his too-eager student. She wore a skirt so short the camera barely had to move before flashing her panties.A moan slipped through the speakers as she dropped to her knees and wrapped her lips around him. I’d always thought this kind of setup was ridiculous, but sitting here next to someon

KiraAs Liam led me down the hallway, his grip steady and unyielding, I could feel the heat pouring off him, carrying through the space between us like it was pulling me closer. The low thrum of the club still vibrated through the walls, but it felt far away now, like we had stepped out of one world and into another. All I could focus on was him and the way our hunger had already stripped everything else away. When he pushed open the door to the blue room, anticipation twisted inside me like a live wire. The space wasn’t just decadent, it was designed to unravel you, to trap you in want. The bed, dressed in sleek black sheets, looked untouched, but I could almost hear the echoes of every body that had writhed on it before.The chaise against the wall seemed like it had borne witness to sins whispered in the dark, its leather gleaming in the low light. The cabinet wasn’t discreet; condoms, oils, towels, all lined up. Nothing here was accidental. It was a stage for pleasure. The door

THE NEXT STORY Sofia Friday.Finally, the week was finally over.It felt like it dragged on forever, leaving me craving a little indulgence.As I stepped into the library, book in hand, I inhaled the comforting scent of old pages mixed with a hint of citrus from the cleaning supplies. A smile crept onto my face as I adjusted my grip on the novel, its cover barely hiding the kind of story that made my heart race.A dark, depraved mafia romance. It had a male lead who didn’t ask permission so much as demand surrender. A man who played with consent the way a composer toyed with notes—artfully, deliberately, with the kind of confidence that made my skin prickle and my thighs press together. One that was over too soon. The kind of book I devoured in a fever and now I was in need of another.Most folks wouldn’t think of the local library as a treasure trove of scandalous reads, but I knew better. The librarians were in on the secret, intentionally filling the shelves with books that we