Calum Hood Imagines Dirty Novels & Stories

Damn it. As we got near the office, we could hear noises. Moans and skin slaps. The manager….my supposed manager that I employed was enjoying himself in broad day light when he was supposed to be working. Kaleb kicked the door open. The bastard’s eyes went wide when he saw me. He pushed the lady away, buckling his trousers hurriedly. “Are you not the cleaner?” Kaleb asked, checking out the naked lady who was still scrambling around for her clothes. The entire office reeked of dust and sex.

I held her there for a beat until her throat spasmed. My head fell back. Fuck. She kept going deeper with another line of praise. She liked this, I realized. Being told she was pretty and that she was good. My good girl. Seems she hadn’t been told that enough, which I would, all the fucking time. Right now, she looked like a fucking dream — mascara smeared under her eyes, chin dripping with spit. Fucking. Gorgeous. I dug out my phone from my pocket and took a picture. She was so dirty and gorgeous, I knew I’d jerk off to this image for weeks. Fate or luck...maybe persistence but either way, she was mine to ruin.

"As long as you dickheads don't lock me up, you won't even know I am here." "Dickhead? When last did you see a dick head?" "I can't believe you right now," June rolled her eyes at him as she followed Keir's trail with Hardin behind her staring at her ass as she walked in front of him. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . "Rise and Shine Sweetheart," Alex ordered opening the curtain as the sunlight entered the room, illuminating everywhere and Octavia's eyes. She opened them slowly and then blocked them with the back of her hand to avoid the sunlight.

Most of hers were internal flights, which she preferred as generally she could go home every night. She kicked off her heels, ripped off her clothes until she was just in her underwear. Her black bra was fighting to hold up her very large, very heavy breasts. Taking it off, Ali couldn't stop herself from giving her large nipples a quick rub as she loaded up her phone to see a message on BBCchat. DomJon: Another photo for you, whore. Enjoy. Ali clicked on the photo. "Ooooh yeah!" She moaned out loud. She saw a photo of herself, on her hands and knees. She had propped her phone up behind to show her entire ass and pussy, except this picture was covered in cum with a big, black cock as well!

“There’s one person who we know about. Whoever they are, we’re sure they are female, but they were wearing a hoodie and knew not to look into the camera, so we have no face to identify.” “Dark black hoodie with a white transfer of flowers that looks like they should be a tattoo running down the sleeves?” Guy turned the laptop back around and pulled up another security photo take from security footage. When Tara saw it, she lost something about herself. Cal wasn’t sure if it was optimism or hope. He just hoped it wasn’t the will to live.

Call me stupid, I definitely won't fight the allegations. But this is Ryder. My first fucking love. The man who ruined me. The man that I… His groans slowly became audible, like music to my ears. His hands slid to my hair, tugging at my band as he pulled it off, my hair falling straight into my face. I pulled my face away, removed the strands of hair entering my mouth, and looked straight at him. He had an expression that looked like he was about to come right away. I spat on it, rubbing it along his length.

The way she’d paused just a little too long when she said, “I’ll be okay.” By the time he pulled into the parking garage of the secured complex, he saw the figure outside her door. Too late—but not too late. “Bradshaw!” he shouted, already halfway out of the car, boots slamming against pavement. Dusty turned, smug and slow, hands up like he was innocent. “You can relax, Calhoun. Just paying a little visit. Old times’ sake.” Callum didn’t speak. He stepped right into Dusty’s space, chest to chest.

I remember when I tried asking questions, but he cut me off, saying it wasn't something I should worry my pretty head about. Mum strolls in with her phone, looking all serious, not the sweet, cheerful spirit who warms the house with her presence. She pulls out the seat beside Dad. "Someone sent a video from a private number." She looks up at me with a serious stare. Cold shivers run down my spine. I turn off the cooker and make my way to her. There's a video of me under the streetlight in my tight dress. "Don't tell me this is you, Summer." She points her phone at my face.

Like I’ve finally found out what I was made for. They let me clean up. Stand under the spray while the evidence washes off my skin, down the drain, out of sight. But I can still feel them inside me. Can still feel the ache in my pussy, my ass, my throat. The pleasant soreness that says you were used well. Someone hands me a towel. Someone else gives me a hoodie – massive, smelling like cologne, MITCHELL printed on the back. Darren’s hoodie. “Keep it,” he says when I try to give it back. “Looks better on you anyway.”

"I would never do something like that." I was staring at him. "So, baby daddy?" He winced and scratched his head lightly. "If I had Kayla, I'd be walking around with my chest out like I own the place." You do. Mario smiled at me, and I was starting to think he could read minds. I don't think I'm so open that he can tell what I think or feel. This is a significant cause for concern because I take pride in being unreadable. It's how I became such a good prostitute. I'm pretty good at wearing my mask. You want me to be happy? That is precisely what I will be. I never let anyone know that I want to scream and run away. And now, for the third time in our encounter, this man is giving me a knowing