All Chapters of UNHOLY CRAVINGS: Dirty Shorts : Chapter 21 - Chapter 30

The reception was already loud by the time I needed air. Music thumped through the open French doors of the ballroom. Voices layered over it—laughter, toasts, the clink of glasses. My sister looked radiant under the string lights, champagne in hand, married less than three hours. Everyone kept telling me how happy I must be for her. I was. Mostly. I slipped out a side door into the quieter corridor that led toward the restrooms and the service stairs. The air was cooler here. My heels clicked against the marble. The deep green bridesmaid dress clung to my hips and made the simple act of walking feel more deliberate than it should have. I didn’t expect anyone else to be in the hallway. Ethan was leaning against the wall near the emergency exit, jacket off, bow tie undone and hanging loose around his neck. The best man. My sister’s new husband’s oldest friend. Tall, dark-haired, the kind of face that looked a little dangerous even when he was smiling for photographs. We had been se

We didn’t make it quick. By the time Ethan finally pulled out of me the second time, my knees were shaking and the decorative rose petals on the bed were crushed and scattered. His come was already sliding down the inside of my thighs, warm and unmistakable. The air in the suite smelled like sex and the expensive candles someone had lit earlier for the newlyweds. I sat on the edge of the mattress trying to catch my breath. Ethan stood, fixed his trousers, and ran a hand through his hair until it looked almost presentable again. His bow tie was still loose around his neck. There was a red mark on his throat where I had bitten him when I came the second time. “You need to get back first,” he said, voice still rough. “If we walk in together people will notice.” I nodded. My legs felt unreliable when I stood. I found my panties near the foot of the bed and pulled them on. The fabric was immediately damp. There was no way to clean up properly—only a quick wipe with a handful of tissues

Elena Voss sat in the third row of the lecture hall, her notebook open to a page of half-finished equations that refused to resolve. Twenty years old, third-year physics major, and already drowning. The midterm had gutted her. Forty-two percent. The red ink on the top of the paper still felt like a slap every time she looked at it.Dr. Marcus Hale stood at the front of the room like a carved statue in a charcoal suit. Mid-forties, silver threading the dark hair at his temples, jaw set in permanent disapproval. He never raised his voice. He didn’t need to. The silence after one of his corrections carried more weight than any shout. Students called him the Ice Professor behind his back. Elena had heard the jokes. She had also watched the way his long fingers moved across the whiteboard, precise and unhurried, and felt something twist low in her stomach that had nothing to do with the material.The lecture ended. Chairs scraped. Bodies filed out. Elena stayed seated until the last studen

The exam room was colder than it needed to be.I sat on the edge of the paper-covered table in the standard blue gown, bare legs dangling, and tried not to look at the clock. The appointment was supposed to be routine—annual physical, blood pressure, the usual questions about stress and sleep. Nothing I hadn’t done before.Dr. Harlan was late by six minutes.When he finally stepped in, the air in the small room shifted. He was older than the last physician I’d seen here—early forties, maybe, with dark hair starting to silver at the temples and the kind of calm, precise presence that made people sit up straighter. The white coat sat well on his broad shoulders. He closed the door behind him with a quiet click and offered a polite smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes.“Ms. Cole. Sorry for the wait. Chart ran long on the last patient.”“It’s fine.”He washed his hands at the small sink, the sound of water filling the quiet, then dried them and turned to face me fully. His gaze moved ov

I returned the following Tuesday at the same late hour.The clinic was even quieter than before. Only the security lights in the hallway and the soft glow under Dr. Harlan’s door remained. The receptionist had already gone home. He had told me to come straight back when I checked in by text.I stepped into the exam room and closed the door. No gown waited on the table this time. The paper cover had been replaced with a full fitted sheet again. I stripped completely—blouse, bra, skirt, panties—folded everything on the chair, and sat on the edge of the table naked. The air-conditioned coolness tightened my nipples and raised faint goosebumps along my arms.I didn’t have to wait long.Dr. Harlan entered, locked the door behind him, and paused when he saw me. His eyes moved over my bare body in one slow, thorough pass. Approval settled in his expression, quiet and dark.“You followed instructions,” he said.“You said the gown got in the way.”“It does.” He set his tablet down without look