A Good Girl's ruin(Dark Steamy stories ) のすべてのチャプター: チャプター 81 - チャプター 90

I moaned softly as he settled to the hilt and started to move in slow, deep strokes at first. Every drag of his cock pulled another open sound from my throat. David kept one hand in my hair, the other locked on my hip, holding me exactly where he wanted while he fucked me on my side. The wet heat between us was constant. I could feel how swollen I was, how every inch of him stretched me open on the way in and left me aching on the way out. The heat under my skin kept climbing. It never fully settled anymore. Each thrust only fed it. I pushed back to meet him, the soft slap of skin on skin growing sharper as his pace increased. His mouth found the side of my neck and began working the same sensitive spot until fresh moans spilled freely from me. He rolled us without pulling out, settling me on my back and sliding between my thighs. One smooth motion and he was braced over me, driving deeper. I wrapped my legs around his waist and held on. Every thrust dragged a louder moan from my

Eliana's POV“I… I’m fine,” I said but the words came out thinner than I wanted. “I told you. The couch is yours and the sheets are in the closet. That’s all.”He didn’t lower his hand immediately. The faintest shift moved through his expression—something dark and considering before he let his arm drop to his side. The loss of that almost-touch left a strange, hollow warmth on my skin.“As you wish, Master.”He stepped back one measured pace. The air cooled a fraction. I could still feel where his presence had pressed against me.I turned before I could look at him any longer and walked to the hall closet. The extra sheets and a thin blanket were exactly where I had left them three months ago. When I came back he was still standing in the same spot in the kitchen, sleeves rolled, watching me with that same unblinking calm.I held the linens out and he took them.“Thank you,” I said, and hated how soft it sounded.He inclined his head and moved toward the couch. I watched the way the b

I read the first pages twice because the words refused to settle.Primary function: companionship and physical relief. Hunger starts within twenty-four hours if nothing happens. Calm classification only means he won’t start anything without clear permission. Chores don’t count. The tracking, the heat, the way he couldn’t stay in another room — all of it was listed under normal signs of strain.I shut the laptop harder than I needed to.Asmodeus was still standing at the foot of the bed. Same place. Same posture. Watching me like he already knew every line I’d just read.“You washed my dishes for three days,” I said. “Mopped the floors. Cooked. Slept on top of the covers. And the whole time this was going on.”“Yes.”“And you just let me keep handing you chores.”“You were clear.”I stood up and walked the length of the room because sitting made my skin feel too tight. He didn’t turn his head. Only his eyes followed.“Explain it without the contract language,” I said. “What have

The next morning light spread across the kitchen tiles when I finally got out of bed.Asmodeus was still asleep for once he was truly asleep, his body heavy and quiet on the mattress we had wrecked the night before. The restless edge that used to keep him awake was gone. I left him there, pulled on one of his discarded shirts, and went to make coffee and something that could pass for breakfast.I was standing at the counter cutting fruit when I felt the sudden heat of his body at my back and the solid weight of his arms sliding around my waist from behind. He pulled me flush against him, chest to my spine, and dropped his mouth to the side of my neck.“You left,” he murmured, voice still rough from sleep.“I was hungry.”“So am I.”His hands flattened on my stomach, then slid lower, under the hem of the shirt. Bare palms on bare skin. He found I wasn’t wearing anything underneath and made a low, approving sound against my throat. One hand cupped between my legs without preamble, fing

I almost asked why. The question sat on my tongue, ready, and then I swallowed it. We weren’t the kind of strangers who asked personal things. We were the kind who shared a building for a few hours in the middle of the night and pretended the awareness between us was only politeness. He took the coffee and returned to his table without another word. I watched the line of his shoulders as he sat, the way he opened the book again but didn’t look down at it right away. My pulse was still moving too fast in my throat. I turned back to the returns and forced my hands to keep working. The next hour passed in the usual small tasks. I dusted the front display. I straightened the bookmarks in their ceramic cup. I walked the perimeter of the store once, checking that the emergency exits were clear, a habit left over from the safety training I had half-listened to when I first started. Every time I passed the history section I felt the quiet weight of his attention, even when he appeared to be