Elena Thorne Nude Novels & Stories

Elena gasped and dropped to her knees, clutching her stomach, completely winded. I snarled viciously and sprinted across the field toward her. “Caden! Babe are you ok?” He smirked and shrugged. “I thought she could take a punch.” A few warriors chuckled nervously. Elena slowly pushed herself up. Her wolf growled loud enough for everyone nearby to hear. Without hesitation, she whipped off her oversized t-shirt, leaving her in just the sports bra and tiny shorts. She tossed the shirt aside and rolled her shoulders, "I’m fine."

Elena was firmly under my control. Then, I turned the corner. He was leaning against the marble pillar, arms crossed over his chest. Julian Thorne. He looked terrible, his golden-boy image was fading. His hair was messy, his clothes rumpled, and dark bruises were on his neck—marks I had left. But it was his eyes that annoyed me, they were not fearful, they burned with a fanatic’s light. "You look like crap, Thorne," I said, not slowing down. "Rough night?"

“What?” Dante had the grace to look guilty. “After you left Monday morning, I looked for you. Called in some favors, did some research. Elena Frost Thorne, age twenty-seven, married to Marcus Thorne for five years. Currently living in a house you hate, married to a man who doesn’t deserve to breathe the same air as you.” He’d investigated her. The realization should have made Elena angry, should have felt like a violation. Instead, she felt oddly relieved. “That’s a little stalkerish,” she said weakly.

I never planned to catch my father’s new wife fingering herself with my panties pressed to her face like a filthy secret. But there she was. Elena. Thirty-two years old, sun-kissed skin still glowing from whatever expensive vacation she and Dad had just returned from, legs spread wide on my unmade bed like she owned the fucking room. Her sundress was rucked up around her hips, no panties underneath—just her bare, glistening pussy on full display. Two fingers plunged deep inside her, slick and obscene, while her other hand crushed my black lace thong against her nose and mouth. She inhaled like she was drowning in me.

“This land isn’t safe for outsiders at night.” I swallowed hard, my body responding traitorously—nipples tightening against my bra, a slick warmth gathering between my thighs. “I’m Lila Voss, with National Wildlife. Just photographing. I didn’t mean—” “Elias Thorne,” he interrupted, stepping closer. His scent hit me then—woodsmoke, wild earth, and pure male musk that clouded my thoughts. His gaze roamed over my body openly, lingering on the curve of my breasts, the flare of my hips, as if he could see through my clothes to the soft, inviting flesh beneath. “The moon is full tonight. You should leave before the pack… before things awaken.”

Strong. I walked over and stood tall, shoulders back, letting my own wolf rise just enough to push back. I might be running, but I used to be a Luna. I wasn’t about to cower. “Sera Thorne,” she said, not a question. “Sit. Coffee?” I slid into the booth across from her. “You’re the one who texted.” “I am.” She poured from the French press without asking. “Margaret Ashwood. I look after things around here for everyone who isn’t fully human.”

She kept touching the money in her purse to confirm if it's real. She was feeling so excited and proud. She just spent a night with Adrian Vale. Elena's Adrian. Now Clara believes that Adrain wanted her too. “He chose me,” She whispered happily to herself. When she got inside her apartment, she threw herself on the bed hugging the pillow tightly. “Elena is finished.” She carried her phone, she felt like calling Elena and laughing at her. But she hugged the money tightly and smiled wickedly. —- Meanwhile inside Blackthorn Manor.

“Careful, little maid. I won’t last if you keep touching me like that.” “I want you inside me,” she whispered boldly, eyes locked on his. “All of you.” He lifted her again, carrying her to the great fur-covered bed near the hearth. He laid her down gently despite the feral need burning in his gaze. Thorne settled between her spread thighs, rubbing the thick head of his cock up and down her soaked slit, teasing her clit until she was whimpering again. Then he pushed inside. Elara gasped at the stretch. He was enormous—inch after thick inch sliding into her tight heat. Thorne groaned, forehead pressed to hers, muscles corded with the effort of going slow. “So fucking tight… perfect little huma

She hadn't worn anything like it since ever. She heaved a deep sigh and returned to the call. "Then I will make sure they don't get the chance. Thirty days, that's the contract. I will walk away after that." "Thirty days of what, exactly?" Maya asked. "They auction fantasies, El. Not handshakes." Elena opened her mouth to say something, but unfortunately she couldn't. She turned sideways in the mirror, and began to study how the dress clung to her body. The neckline plunged low enough that the outline of her nipples pressed against the sheer black material whenever she breathed deeply.

She followed the sound to an open bedroom door and stopped dead in her tracks. Mr. Lorenzo was sitting on the edge of his bed, completely naked. His muscular body was tense with pleasure. One strong hand was wrapped around his thick, hard cock, stroking it slowly. His eyes were glued to his phone. On the screen, Elena recognized one of the videos she had posted on I*******m last month—her in a tight top, dancing playfully at a friend’s party, her breasts bouncing with every move. He was jerking off to her.