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Heat pooled between my legs, insistent and wet, but it was the tenderness in their eyes—the quiet hope—that cracked me wide open. “I’m thirty-one,” I whispered. “I’ve spent years chasing men who either want to fix me or fuck me and forget me. The ones who stay are boring. The ones who excite me are always… taken. Or gay. Or both.” A wet laugh escaped. “Like you.” “Not gay enough, apparently,” Julian teased softly, but his voice was thick with emotion. His fingers stayed gentle on my shoulder.

And the silence hurts worse than anything. End of story 3

—He is a fucking male! That means, my boyfriend is gay and has been using me as a cover to protect his relationship. One thing I don't understand is why he can't fully show who he is, why hide it and make use of someone innocent to cover up your sexuality when you can show it off as long as you know you aren't doing anything wrong. Just thinking about it makes my heart throb in pain. Narrowing my eyes, I chugged down my drink, not minding the spiciness and how sore my throat is.

She held still, breaths shallow, every nerve alight. Emboldened by her lack of protest, his touch intensified. Bella, in a feigned sleepy wiggle, shifted back closer, her bum pressing against his crotch. She felt it immediately—his dick, fully erect, hard and throbbing through his pants, nestled against her. He gasped, a sharp intake of breath that echoed in the quiet room. Gotcha, she thought triumphantly, a thrill running through her. Now what? Your move, stranger. The tension hung thick, her body humming with anticipation, mind a whirlwind of forbidden excitement.

My hips ground against his hands shamelessly as if my body was begging for a release. He bit into my ear, making my whole body quiver. “You come when I say you come, not before.” Tears gathered at my lashes as he pushed me higher, fingers pumping into me until my climax was just on the edge. I was seconds away when he pulled out of my completely, leaving me gasping, knees threatening to give out. The bastard smirked down at me. I whimpered, humiliated but needy. Then I heard it, the sounds of heels clicking on the pavement. A woman’s voice filled the air, laughter carrying in the air. Adrian’s eyes glinted with something wicked. His hand slid back between my thighs, fingers thrusting into me

End of story. Clare looked at him. He was smiling, the corner of his eyes wrinkled up by his amusement. She thought he was probably the most beautiful man she'd ever seen in her life. Almost unconsciously she wriggled her bottom so her clitoris butted up against his toe. He was right, of course, completely right. There was no point pretending. Realistically, though she hadn’t thought it through, there was no long-term future in their relationship: They had nothing in common apart from sex. That didn’t mean, in the short term, they didn’t have a very healthy mutual interest in each other. There was something very freeing about being involved with a man for such narrow reasons, no actions held

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Just pressure and tongue and rhythm until Micah was clawing at the ropes and biting back sobs. It was too much. Too good. Too intimate. His thighs shook. His fingers curled into fists. And when he came, he hated how hard it hit, how long it lasted, how fucking loud his body got about it. Roman didn't move away. He stayed kneeling there. Watching. And Micah lay broken on the bed, panting, shivering, too empty and too full all at once. “Say it again,” Roman said. Micah didn’t respond. “Say you’re not gay.”

“Now ruin it.” He withdrew until just the tip remained, then slammed back in. A brutal, punishing thrust. Leila screamed, her nails digging into the leather. He set a relentless, rough pace, each drive a claim, each withdrawal a tease. The slap of his hips against her ass filled the room, a lewd percussion to their choked moans and filthy talk. “You like this?” he grunted, pistoning into her. “You like getting your ass fucked by a gay man?” “I love it!” she shrieked, pushing back against him. “Your cock is so deep! I can feel it in my guts!”

She pinched my hard nipple, rolling it between her fingers, and I arched into her with a whimper. “Fuck, Emma,” she breathed against my lips. “You’re so responsive. So wet already, aren’t you?” I was. My tiny shorts were soaked, the crotch clinging to my shaved, puffy pussy lips. I nodded, kissing her harder, our tongues tangling sloppily. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Jake stand up. He shoved his shorts down, and his thick, veiny cock sprang free—long, heavy, the head already glistening with precum. He wrapped his big hand around it and started stroking slowly, watching us with dark, burning eyes.