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“Hmm, my answer to that has to be coapsed doggy.” “Why?” “Because it just has a way of hitting the G spot directly and I like that the man can hold my hands from behind and push my face into the bed and do whatever he wants to do with me.” I bit my lips, and I felt a tingling sensation in between my legs. I was getting hornier and hotter while seating. “I feel like a lot of other woman who has also tried this style can testify to what you are saying now.” “Yes, they can.”

He hovered above me, his eyes glowing gold with lust. Thunder erupted outside, clashing with the storm of lust brewing in those eyes. I tried to sit up, to slide back, but it made me rub my legs instead as he was so close. Rubbing my legs made my cum drip out of my cunt. I took my head backwards, moaning softly as I bit my lips shamelessly.

I poured the last red wine into the glass and carried it up upstairs. The laptop screen glowed as I created the website account. VelvetVixen. I, however, slipped into the black lace set I bought on impulse last year, which cupped my breasts and left my hips bare. My nipples already tightened against the thin fabric when I sat on the edge of the bed and hit “Go Live.” At first, I only teased myself. Fingers tracing the lace, slow circles over my thighs with a hand full of strangers typed hearts and fire emojis. I saw the tips trickle in, I told myself it was just for money but when the first tip hit—it was fifty dollars from someone named Regular47.

The old Victorian house on the hill had always felt haunted by secrets. This summer, it held new ones. My cousin Mia and I were staying with Uncle Victor while our parents traveled through Europe. At 23 and 25, we told ourselves it was just practical—free rent, a quiet place to finish our grad school projects. But the moment Uncle Victor opened the door, shirt unbuttoned at the collar and that familiar hungry look in his eyes, we both knew the real reason we’d come.

Oh, to be poor, desperate, and trapped in a fucking mansion. My name is Elara, and for the next three months, this sprawling, sterile prison on a hill is my entire world. My mom’s medical bills didn’t leave me much of a choice. It was either this or watch our tiny apartment get repossessed. So, here I am. A maid. A modern-day Cinderella, except my fairy godmother is a desperate staffing agency and my Prince Charming is a ghost who signs my paychecks.

Lila stood completely naked in the middle of the small beach hut, her wet dress lying in a puddle at her feet. The lantern light flickered across her bare skin, highlighting the full curves of her breasts, the dip of her waist, and the smooth skin between her thighs. She felt exposed in a way she had never experienced before. Two strange men were staring at her openly, their eyes dark with hunger, and the storm outside continued to rage, thunder shaking the wooden walls.

Chapter 6 Mere khwabon ki Aarthi par Apne khwabo ki doli sajana Tumhari chahat thi Par tum ye bhul gaye Ki kisiko khwabo ko torkar Tumhare apne khwab bhi Kabhi pura nahi honge. ~Ankita Ghosh (on my pyre of my dreams you wanted to decorate your dreams. But you forgot that If you break someone's dream then you won't be able to fulfill your dreams as well)

I have submitted my credentials to different company and awaiting their call. But while waiting, I have business I'm planning to start up. I'm glad that I'm not an extravagant spender. I saved money which will help me along the way and also starting my desired business. My rainbow will be colorful again, I'm certain about that. I planned going to pack out all my things from the house before the rent expires. Joba contacted me the other day on social media with a strange F******k account because I also blocked him in return on all social media.

I was definitely putting the cart before the horse. As soon as I dropped Charlie off at Middle School Wednesday morning I headed home. My heart was already beating a little faster thinking about lunchtime. Sandy was coming over! I'll admit I didn't get a lot done on what I was working on, although it was definitely better than that horrid manual had been. This was an anthology of short stories from an independent publishing house that I'd worked for before, with all the authors under twenty-four years old. The clock seemingly was moving at a glacial pace, but eventually my phone chimed.