Jennifer Van Damsel Nude Novels & Stories

“If I didn’t live across town, I’d be there. No question. I think I’m tall enough to wrap my legs around you.” “No. I couldn’t have you drive in this rain.” “I would, though.” I repositioned myself onto my elbows, the strap of my nightgown lazily falling down my shoulder. “Just to hold me? “Hold you. Touch you,” he pointed to the camera. “Kiss that bare shoulder right there...whatever.” Even with just the bare shoulders, suddenly Tatum felt naked. “Oh.” “What are you wearing under that duvet?” he pushed his glasses up, moving closer to the phone.

I said truthfully. I could hear the class murmuring. Very gave me a scornful look. Miss Dina gaped at my words. I was starting to regret why I said that, this presentation was 40marks but from the looks of things it won't go well for me. “Damn, isn't she the girl with Damian in the video? Yes it's her,I fucking can't believe it's Selene in the video, who would have thought that she's such a slut? she was damn riding the guy to hell”Ryan said and the whole class gasped.

His name was Damien Vale. He started requesting me for private sessions on the third night. Unlike the others, he didn’t immediately fuck me, he observed me first. On the fifth night, after a particularly brutal group session that left me sobbing and covered in cum, Damien bought an entire evening with me. He had me brought to his private suite, cleaned me gently in the shower, then fucked me slowly on the large bed while studying my face.

The strange heat emanating from his study didn't help calm the situation at all. For the sake of being polite, I knocked. No response. I knocked again. Then, I heard a muffled ''Come in-...'' I slowly crept the door open and cautiously slipped in. The door shut close by itself gratefully. I was instantly met by groans and moans of pleasure and passion. What the- It wasn't like I was taken aback though, just wasn't expecting it. Damian had Natasha tightly caged between his hard chest and the gigantic plush wooden desk. She, as usual was topless and braless too.

When I get into the bathroom, my brightest light is on, and it illuminates everything. Damien is sitting under the shower, hot water running over his naked body as he sits in his chair. I see a few new scars around his chest, scars I want to ask about, but I can't. Damien's eyes are on me, his gaze both hungry and a challenge. I pull off the straps of my dress and let it pool at my feet, then take off my bra, leaving only my panties on as I get into the shower with him. Even seated in a chair, Damien's size puts his head almost at eye level with my bare breasts.

The canvas isn’t the only place Damien explores her, soon, their bodies and emotions become intertwined in a passionate, reckless affair. ——— When Lena agreed to model for Damien Cross, she didn’t realize “model” meant “bare absolutely everything you’ve ever known about shame and dignity.” And possibly your clothes. At least, that’s what it felt like when she stood in front of his studio door on a rainy Thursday morning, gripping her tote bag like a life preserver and questioning all her life choices including that extra espresso that made her heart beat like a trapped bird. “This is fine,” she muttered to herself, staring at the brass nameplate that read DAMIEN CROSS, ARTIST in a font that

"Take it off, or I shall derive even greater pleasure from removing it myself." Stepping back, he observed my struggle to obey his command. With trembling hands, I reached down and slid off my ill-fitting leggings, stepping out of them reluctantly. My bra, a mere remnant of fabric, was unclasped and allowed to fall to the ground. And so, I stood before Damian, adorned only in my underwear, bearing the visible scars that covered my body, serving as a perverse fascination for him.

“Now.” My hands trembled as I obeyed, revenge mindset screaming at me even as my body burned. I pulled off my blouse, my heavy breasts spilling free, nipples tight and begging. The skirt followed, leaving me completely naked and exposed. Slick coated my thighs. My pussy glistened, swollen and ready despite my mind’s protests. Damien’s golden eyes devoured every inch of me. “Fuck… look at you. Perfect. Made for me.”

I whispered one more time, taking off the blindfold. He grabbed my shoulders and turned me over, pinning my hands above my head. “Who told you about BDSM elements?” “Jasmine mentioned it when we were in college,” I responded shyly. Damien released my hands and got up. I watched as he turned on the TV. Then he plugged in a flash drive and scrolled through the list of movies. He clicked on a particular movie titled Fifty Shades Of Grey. “You want us to watch a movie?” I asked, obviously surprised.

Cool air hit her skin. A single corridor, lined with shelves. Old tomes. Arcane symbols. Jars of things that looked too alive. And a photograph. Tucked behind a book labeled “The Ten Orders of Ruin.” It was Vivienne. Lips parted. A hand around her throat. And Damian—shirtless, eyes wild, mouth right against her ear. The pose wasn’t romantic. It was ritualistic. “Touch that again, and I’ll have to teach you how to beg properly.”