Credence Couch Scene Novels & Stories

The door to our apartment where only I and he knew the passcode. My legs felt numb over me. I typed in the rest of the passcode with shaky fingers, my disbelief mixing in with the heavy weight of dread. No. This couldn't be happening. I opened the doors and my heart sank under the weight, shattering completely. On our couch, the same couch we used to cuddle, watch movies and make love in, he sat with his shirt unbuttoned, his pants rucked down to his knees. And on his lap a naked woman moaned, bouncing fervently.

The couch was creaking under the pressure. "ohhh... mmm-nnn-gh... yes! right there! don't stop! fuck! ahhh... harder! yes! mmm-ph! ohhh god! it's so deep! Harder! Harder! Yes! Ohhh! Fuck! Faster! Fuck me faster! Yes! Yes! Yes! Ohhh so good!" The noise in the room was very loud now.

He grinned, pulling me closer, and planting series of kisses on my face and neck. The couch was very soft, and very comfortable too. Aiden showered me with kisses, and I let out series of moans as he grounded against me. Poor couch! I could hear the wood creak loudly as our kiss intensified. "Aiden, someone might see us, and the couch Is not strong enough." I whispered as he sucked on my nipple. "Is the couch your problem?" He raised a brow. "Not quite, but what if someone walks in and sees us." "No one's going to see us." He grunted, reaching for my breasts again.

LUCIEN’S POV I sat on the couch, my elbows braced on my knees, my hands clasped tight, the living room dim under the flicker of a single lamp. Damien sprawled across from me, his boots kicked up on the coffee table, his dark hair falling into his eyes, his fingers tapping restless on the armrest. The clock ticked past midnight, the house silent except for the low hum of our voices, the air thick with tension and the faint scent of whiskey we’d poured earlier. We’d been at it for hours, hashing out Daiki—his wounds, his fight, his survival.

COLE I should’ve known Cynthia wasn’t finished with me and that was my first mistake. The second mistake? Thinking I understood how far she was willing to go. I walked into the living room expecting a quiet night,instead, I froze dead in my tracks. Jake.Mason. Tyler. All three of my friends sat awkwardly on the couch looking equally terrified and fascinated. And right in the center of the room, Cynthia was seated calm, relaxed and enjoying a popcorn. She looked completely in control of the situation.

I delete the thread. When I walk into my house, Craig is asleep on the couch with the TV on. He didn’t make it to bed. I make it to my bedroom, and lie back. I don’t bother to wash off the loads of cum inside me. I want to feel it till the next morning.

With a quick glance at her friends, they all nodded. They handed over their phones. Cat placed them in individual lockers with numbered keys, then handed the keys back with a smile. “Enjoy your evening. If you need anything, just find me or any of the staff in black collars.” They moved away from the desk, Cassie leading them toward a quieter seating area with low velvet couches. The position offered a good view of the main floor without being too central. Sarah’s mouth was still slightly open. Her eyes widened as she took in the scenes around them; a woman was being gently flogged on a padded bench. Her moans soft and blissful. Another couple was engaged in an intense rope scene in a nearby

One of them stammered. “G-Good afternoon, Alpha.” Vincenzo ordered, his voice brooking no delay. “Bring me the footage of outhouse cameras from two years ago. The night before my mating ceremony.” The men moved swiftly, nervous hands flying over the equipment. The screens blinked with old files, and I just stood there frozen behind Vincenzo, folding my arms tight around me as though I could hold myself together by force alone. Every second dragged like chains as my throat felt dry, pulling me closer to something I both dreaded and craved. If Cassidy was right, if she had truly been in the outhouse that night with the bakers, then what had I seen?

I turned the corner toward the kitchen, expecting darkness, but the living room lamp was on, casting a dim, golden glow over the massive gray sectional. I froze. There was movement on the couch. At first, my brain didn't register what I was seeing—just a knot of limbs and the soft, wet sounds of skin slapping against skin—but then the guy shifted, his back muscles flexing under the light, and I saw the dark hair, the broad shoulders. It was Kolt. He was on top of a girl I didn't recognize, a blonde whose legs were wrapped tightly around his waist, her head thrown back over the armrest as he thrust into her with a brutal, rhythmic intensity that made the whole couch shift.

He puffs up his chest and I turn to check on him, but he rushes outside and softly but swiftly closes the door. I snuggle into the fluffy duvet and let the storm lull me to sleep. ---- The wind is still howling outside and it's relatively dark. I feel the duvet getting lifted and Mr. Cane slips in beside me. A few seconds pass by and I can feel his warm hands on my chest. Instead of being surprised, I let it happen. He’s just resting his fingers below my throat. Slowly, I feel them going down my stomach and under my shirt. He softly pads his fingers on my belly button.