Hayes Grier Imagines Dirty Novels & Stories

🍑 Chapter 3 🍑 The door opened and closed again immediately. Mrs Hayes tried locking the door from inside because it was getting dark already. They stopped for a moment and continued. Lily was still breathing hard, her body pressed against Mr. Hayes in the garage. Cum was slowly dripping down her thighs from their previous rounds. She kissed his chest softly and looked up at him with naughty eyes. She wasn’t ready to stop yet. “Mr. Hayes, I want more,” she whispered. “I’m still so wet for you.”

Hayes. She took a slow, measured breath, savoring the acrid scent of ruin that now permeated the air—a mix of expensive champagne and crushed ambition. The massive screens still glowed with the undeniable photo evidence, bathing the central area of the room in a cold, artificial light that highlighted the devastation on Mr. Hayes’s face. Eleanor shifted her gaze, tracking the key players.

I closed my eyes and imagined her in this room, my hand running through her body, maybe sucking her breast as she looked at me with her beautiful brown eyes. I could see her back arching, hear the low, breathy moans she might make as I pushed deeper, claiming her. The thought alone was enough to make my hips buck involuntarily. “Fuck.” My grip tightened around my dick, my pace quickening as the image of her face flashed in my mind. With a low growl, I came hard, my cum spilling over my fist as my body shuddered. For a moment, I just sat there, breathing heavily.

Alexander Hayes pulled back, tears streaming down his face as he gazed at her intently. This strong and resilient individual had experienced a profound emotional breakdown, reaching the depths of their humanity. Despite the devastation, they were able to rediscover the fragments of their being. Her feet made contact with the floor once more, his towering stature a full eighteen inches above her. The familiar creature I once knew as Hayes had vanished. He regained his sense of humanity. "What's the matter?" Hayes's voice was filled with emotion, trembling with each syllable. His fingers, gentle and cautious, delicately traced the scar before tenderly brushing her cheek with his thumb. "What h

Images of Atticus are welcomed as they flash in Harris's head, and chase the images of Brody away. Harris leans his head back as he pictures Atticus’ face. His beard that's almost long enough to run his fingers through. Those brown eyes that pull him in. His large muscles, that are rock-hard. His wonderful scent that he wants to bathe in. Harris groans and looks down to see his cock is rock hard. “Fuck!” Harris breathes out as he reaches for the handle and turns the water to cold, hoping it will take care of his problem. …. As Harris heads down the stairs for breakfast, he pauses at his mate's floor and looks down the hallway, wondering if his mate is in his room.

If she remembered, I’m doomed. Hastily, I pulled down her jumper to cover her beautiful breasts and yanked up her jeans before I got hard again. I noted her specs and put it back on her—and I got the shock of my life. “Dirty Rosey?!” I jolted to a stand, backing away in aghast, feeling utterly disgusted, as though I was the one ravaged and humiliated. Fuck! Did I just find Dirty Rosey pretty? I shook my head violently. No, no, no… I must be tired. All the shooting, the sex. I haven’t slept in the past thirty six hours. I must be tired.

And the vent in the floor, I realized now, carried more than just air. The sound came again, clearer this time. A rough and short grunt, followed by silence. Then movement. Sheets maybe. Skin. I pressed my ear against the floor, heart racing. Another groan. This one deeper and strained. And then I knew, he was touching himself. I didn’t move. I couldn’t. My entire body went hot, flooded with something I couldn’t name. I pictured him on his back, one hand on his cock, head tipped back, eyes closed. I imagined the way his jaw would tense, how his abs would clench, how he’d look right before he—

she giggles. I snap my eyes open, turning my gaze to him. Our eyes lock, and he quietly looks away. The heavy silence of their conversation lingers in the air. I don't want to seem like I'm eavesdropping on their conversation. I shut my eyes again, with nothing on my mind except the evil thought of his nudes leaking onto the internet while I watch with a glass of wine. My lips curve into a sinister smile. "Not tonight, Rachel. I'm not in the mood," he growls. "Keep an eye out for when you get to your floor. I don't want you in my house."

WARNING: THIS CHAPTER CONTAINS NUDITY AND SEXUAL SCENES. IT IS 18+ RATED. Their sweaty bodies rubbed against each other, glittering from the sweat that covered their bodies. Even though the air conditioner was working, the feeling of ecstasy running through their bodies produced alot of sweat.

Grace’s POV “Go back to the backwater you came from,” the guy barked, loud enough to echo. My eyes found the voice immediately. It was Noah Hudson. Even from where I stood, he was impossible to miss. He was brown-skinned. Muscular. Built like he could go straight through concrete if he had to. His skin gleamed with sweat under the lights, and both arms were covered in detailed black and gray tattoos that ran from shoulder to wrist. More ink crept from under his jersey across his chest and neck. His dreads were tied back in a loose band, a few strands falling over his forehead as he moved. His brown eyes were sharp and unreadable, but they had a darkness behind them.