All Chapters of Unholy After Dark: Chapter 51 - Chapter 60

AbbyHalfway home the sky cracked open. Rain poured down in heavy sheets, soaking my clothes in seconds. Water ran into my eyes and down my neck. My shirt clung to my body. My hair stuck to my face in wet strands. Still I kept walking. The cold rain mixed with the tears on my cheeks, but I felt too hollow to care. All I could see was them. All I could hear was Nike telling Caley he came harder with him than he ever had with me.By the time I reached my building I was completely drenched. Water dripped from my clothes onto the pavement. Mascara ran in dark lines down my cheeks. My fingers felt numb as I reached into my pocket for my keys.The pocket was empty.I checked the other one. Nothing. I must have dropped them somewhere between Nike’s place and here. The realization hit hard enough that my knees almost gave out. I sank down onto the cold tile of the hallway outside my door, back against the wall, and the sobs finally broke free. Ugly, shaking, uncontrollable. I don’t know how

AbbyI woke up with a headache that felt like it had claws. The light coming through the blinds was wrong. Too soft. Too angled. My sheets never smelled like this. Cedar and something clean and masculine. Panic hit before the memories did.I sat up fast. The room spun. My stomach dropped.I’m not in my bed. I’m not in my apartment. The night before slammed into me in pieces. The rain. The sobbing on the hallway floor. Roger’s quiet voice. Whiskey burning down my throat. The way I had walked around the table and climbed into his lap like I had every right. The kiss that started uncertain and turned hungry. His hands on my waist. The hard press of him against me. “Oh my God”.Heat flooded my face so fast it made the headache worse. I pressed both palms to my eyes and tried to breathe. I had kissed my neighbor. I had ground against him. I had told him I wanted him. And then I had passed out in his bed like some disaster.When I dropped my hands, Roger was standing in the doorway. He

AbbyHe sat up in one smooth motion, arms wrapping tight around me as he shifted us toward the edge of the bed. His feet found the floor for better leverage, and he began thrusting up hard to meet every drop of my hips. The new angle dragged a sharp cry from my throat. He felt impossibly deep, impossibly thick. The wet slap of our bodies filled the room. I clung to his shoulders, forehead pressed to his, sharing the same ragged breath.“You’re doing so well,” he growled against my mouth. “Take every thrust... Feel how hard you make me.”“I feel it… God, I feel all of it…”We stayed locked together like that for a long time, moving in perfect sync. Sweat slicked our skin. My thighs burned. The coil in my belly wound tighter and tighter, but he never let either of us tip over. Every time I got close he slowed just enough to pull me back from the edge, kissing me through the frustration until I was shaking with need.“Not yet,” he murmured. “I want to feel you from behind. Can you give m

JennaMorning arrives. I move through the day with only half my attention. Emails blur past. Meetings stretch longer than they need to. At lunch I push food around the plate and barely taste any of it. Every quiet stretch between tasks pulls me back to the list she sent. After work I pack a small bag and pull on a loose long shirt. I check the address one more time. The studio sits on a quiet street in a part of the city that rarely draws attention. I leave early. Traffic stays light. I park a few blocks away and walk the rest of the distance. The evening air cools my face. My heart works harder than the short walk requires. From the outside the building looks ordinary—plain brick, a simple green door, nothing that hints at what happens inside. At the door I enter the code. The lock clicks. Inside, a short hallway leads to a single door with a small sign that simply reads Coaching Studio. I knock once.The door opens. She stands there in dark jeans and a soft black top, hair pulled

JennaThe next morning, I wake later than usual, feeling as though I could easily spend another hour beneath the covers. My body is tired, and for a few minutes, I lie still, reluctant to surrender the comfort of my bed. Eventually, I reach for my phone and check the time. It is Saturday, with nothing demanding my attention until later in the evening, yet the thought of my appointment makes it difficult to settle back into sleep.I take my time getting up, open the curtains, and let the morning light spill into the room. After making my bed, I head to the kitchen, where I prepare a cup of coffee and something light to eat. I carry my breakfast to the living room and spend some time scrolling through my phone, catching up on messages and browsing through social media. A few household chores follow, mostly the little things I have put off during the week. By the time I finish, the morning has slipped into early afternoon, and I feel considerably more awake.I shower, dress comfortably,