All Chapters of HIS GUILTY PLEASURE : Chapter 51 - Chapter 60

Lila’s pov“You keep saying last chance like I’m going to change my mind,” I said, still standing between his legs with his hands heavy on my waist and the hard length of him pressed against my stomach. “I’m not changing it.”Logan’s thumbs stroked once across the bare skin above my shorts, then he let out a long breath and eased his grip. “It’s six o’clock.”I glanced at the clock on the stove. He was right. The afternoon had burned away while we stood there trading filthy words and not doing a damn thing about them.“I should go,” he said, but his hands didn’t leave my waist right away.“Stay for dinner.”He looked at me like I had just asked him to commit a crime. “Lila.”“I’m serious. Dad won’t be back until late. There’s food in the fridge. We can cook something. You already did half the work around here today. Least I can do is feed you.”His jaw flexed. I watched the fight happen behind his eyes. The smart thing was to walk out the door. The thing he actually wanted was writte

Lila’s pov“Once you start you better not stop,” I said, heels digging into his back while the thick head of his cock stayed right there at my entrance, stretching me open and going no farther. Logan’s hand on the back of my neck kept my face tilted up to his. His other hand gripped my hip hard enough I knew I’d feel it later.“I’m not stopping,” he answered, voice wrecked. Then he shoved the rest of the way in with one deep thrust that forced the air out of my lungs.He was thick. Thicker than I had been ready for even after his fingers. The stretch burned and filled me so completely I could only cling to his shoulders and take it. He bottomed out and stayed there for a second, forehead pressed to mine, both of us breathing hard.“Fuck, Lila. You’re gripping me like you don’t want to let go.”“I don’t.”He pulled back almost all the way and slammed in again. The island shook. My shorts were still shoved to one side, the fabric rubbing against my thigh every time his hips snapped f

Ava’s pov“Professor Grant, the last section still needs the citation cross-check on the 2019 field notes. I can finish it tonight if you want.”He looked up from the screen, glasses low on his nose, that deep voice rolling out slow. “Stay. The deadline is midnight and I’m not sending incomplete work out under my name. Close the door.”I pushed it shut. The click sounded louder than it should have in the empty building. Campus was dead for the long weekend. No footsteps in the hall, no voices drifting up from the quad. Just the hum of his desk lamp and the soft tick of the old wall clock.I dropped into the chair across from him and opened the shared folder. My fingers moved over the keys but my head was somewhere else. Months of listening to that voice in seminars, in the lab, over coffee while he tore apart weak arguments. Half in love with the sound of it. Now the door was closed and staying closed.“Read the paragraph on the sediment layers again,”

Ava’s pov“It’s past six. We’re never going to finish if we keep stopping every ten minutes to argue about the phrasing in the discussion section.”He glanced at the clock on the wall then back at me and pulled his phone from his pocket. “I’m ordering food. You’re not walking out of this office and neither am I until the report is done. Tell me what you want.”“Whatever is fastest. I don’t care as long as we stay here.”He called in two orders of Thai without asking another question. The silence that settled after he hung up felt heavier than the earlier ones. The office had grown smaller with every hour that passed. The air stayed warm and close against my skin. My blouse clung to my back and the damp between my legs had never fully dried from before. Every time I shifted in the chair the fabric of my underwear dragged against me and reminded me how empty I still felt.He stood and walked behind my chair toward the bookshelf. “The refere

Ava’s pov“The report is finished. You should tell me to leave.”He didn’t. He just watched me over the rim of his glass while the whiskey burned slowly in my throat. The small couch felt even smaller with both of us on it. His knee stayed pressed hard against mine. The desk lamp was the only light left and it threw everything into sharp shadows.“I’m not telling you to leave,” he said. “Not yet.”I set the glass down because my hand had started to tremble. The ache between my legs had gone from a dull throb to something sharp and constant. Hours of sitting across from him, of his chest brushing my shoulder, of his voice dropping every time he looked at my mouth, had left me soaked and restless. My underwear was a mess. I could feel it every time I shifted.“Then what are we doing,” I asked.“We’re sitting here. We’re drinking. And you’re going to tell me exactly how wet you still are.”“Dripping. It’s been that way since you stoo