Hxh Palm

“Shh, little girl,” he growled, teeth catching my bottom lip. I fought the moan, but he circled my clit, my hips jerked helplessly against his hand. Then he pushed my panties aside and sank two thick fingers inside me. I soaked his palm, knees buckling as tremors wracked me. “That’s it, cum for me,” he whispered against my ear. I did. Waves crashed through me while he held me up, stroking gently, murmuring filthy praise that made it sweeter, deeper, more shattering than anything I’d ever felt with a woman. I’m a lesbian. I’ve always known it, claimed it shamelessly. I’ve mapped women’s bodies with my mouth, hands, loving every touch and gasp. My best friend’s tongue between my legs has made me come countless times. The only man I tried, my ex, was awkward, unsatisfying. I swore off them forever. I love women. I love my best friend. So why does this man, her father, the one I should never want make me wetter with one stroke than she ever has? Why am I aching for his cock, pushed inside me, thrusting relentlessly, filling me, ruining me in ways no woman could? Why does bending over his desk for him feel like the right thing to do? One forbidden touch. One devastating truth: I might never want another woman again. When I rejected the vice chancellor's advances, my best friend's obsessive aunt, she threatened expulsion. My friend took me to her father, the college owner. One look at his body and I was lost. That night in their home, hiding in the kitchen while watching him cook, I touched myself, craving what is forbidden. Will my best friend discover my sudden addiction to her father? Will her aunt ever stop wanting me?

Jarek’s hand slides over my ass like a challenge, slow and deliberate, like he wants me to feel exactly where he thinks I belong. I don’t hesitate. My palm cracks across his face—sharp, loud, final. “Careful,” he says quietly, fingers digging into my hip instead of letting go. “You keep hitting men like that, someone’s going to hit back.” I tilt my chin up. “Try it.” ⸻ My parents owed Luke Jones money. I paid the debt with my body, my name, and a marriage I never agreed to. On paper, Luke is my husband. President of the Vipers MC. Untouchable. Behind closed doors, he’s a man who can’t keep an erection and punishes me for it—with fists, words, and silence. The only man that ever gave a shit a bout me was my brother, Steve. Luke’s best friend. His VP. Now Steve is dead. And Luke has finally stopped pretending. He moves Steve’s old lady into the clubhouse. Watches her. Wants her. Just like he always has. I secretly divorce him, disappear to the next town over. And I walk straight into the territory of a rival MC. Its president, Jarek Solen, notices me immediately. He’s dangerous. Controlled. Watching. The kind of man who doesn’t beg, doesn’t threaten—and doesn’t take no lightly. I refuse him anyway. Instead, I prospect his club. Earn my place the hard way. I don’t want another man. But Jarek Solen doesn’t see me as broken goods or borrowed property. He sees me as his. And when Luke realizes his wife is gone and his control is slipping—Jarek won’t hand me back. He’ll start a war. Because the Biker King doesn’t steal women. He claims what chooses him.