INICIAR SESIÓN"You've been a bad girl. Now I'm gonna fuck every bit of that sass right out of this pretty throat." He fisted my hair and dragged the leaking head of his cock over my lips, smearing them glossy and wet. "Beg," he ordered. My voice shook with how badly I needed it. "Please, sir. Please let me suck your cock. I'll be good—I swear." "Too late for good, baby. You're going to choke on it." Without another warning he thrust forward, sliding deep in one smooth stroke until the fat head bumped the back of my throat. Zara's life takes an erotic turn when she attends a new Psych class and her professor is her mother's ex husband. Dominic Calloway. He is hot, older and completely off limits. One lecture on submission and she’s soaked, desperate to be used. Even though she lives a double life as Grey Writes, a popular erotica writer, she is still a virgin. But now her body burns to be claimed and she can’t stop imagining him bending her over his desk, making her beg, stretching her open and claiming what no one else has touched. He’s forbidden. Taboo. Everything she shouldn’t want. But like his name, he’s exactly the Dom she needs.
Ver másZara’s POV The space opened up in front of me like something out of one of my own stories. Beautifully dressed people filled the room — leather pants and corsets, lace that barely covered anything, harnesses that caught the low lights and made skin look like it was glowing. A few of them wore collars. Some were men, their throats circled in thick black leather or polished metal. Some were women, the same kind of collars sitting snug against their skin like they belonged there. I looked around in awe, trying not to stare too long at any one person. The energy in the room felt charged, like everyone was waiting for something to begin.There was a large open space in the middle of the club. A bed sat right in the center of it, covered with dark sheets that looked soft and expensive, almost black in the dim light. A small table stood beside it, and on that table were different toys laid out in neat rows — whips with long tails, thick handcuffs lined with soft fur, a few other things I
Zara’s POV I stood in front of my mirror the next night and pressed my lips together to set my lipstick.The room was quiet. Bri had gone out on a date — some guy from her chemistry lab she'd been texting for a week — and for once I was glad to have the place to myself. I didn't want to tell her I was going to a BDSM club and I didn't have the energy to come up with a lie about where I was going. Bri asked questions. Good ones. The kind that unraveled a lie before you'd even finished telling it. Tonight I just wanted to slip out without explaining myself to anyone.I looked at my reflection.Black leather pants that hugged every curve and refused to apologize for any of them. A black sequined blouse that caught the light when I moved. Black heels. I'd curled my hair so it fell in loose waves over one shoulder, and I'd done my makeup darker than usual — smoky eyes, deep lip, the kind of face that said I knew exactly what I was doing even though I absolutely did not.I turned to t
Zara’s POV I knew exactly what kind of club this was. I'd written places like it into my stories more times than I could count — smoky, candlelit rooms full of people who knew exactly what they wanted, scenes I'd imagined down to the smallest detail and never once seen with my own eyes. I'd built every single one of them out of research and guesswork and my own imagination working overtime.And now here was a real one.Three clicks away. An event happening tomorrow. Close enough to touch.I should have closed the tab.I knew I should close the tab. I told myself to close the tab.I clicked the registration button instead.A form opened up. Long. More of a questionnaire, really — page after page of questions, all of them clearly designed to screen people before they let them anywhere near the door. They wanted to know who you were and what you wanted and whether you'd be a problem. I respected that, actually. It made me feel slightly safer, like whoever ran this place took it s
Zara’s POV I closed my eyes.“No, Mum,” I said. “I didn’t. And I’m not going to. I don’t want to lose weight.”“Zara—”“I exercise twice a week. I eat well. I feel good.” I kept my voice steady. “I don’t need to be a size zero.”She sighed on the other end. The sigh I’d been hearing my whole life.“I just worry about you,” she said. “Men like a woman who takes care of herself. You want to find someone, don’t you? You have such a pretty face, baby. If you just—”“If a man doesn’t like how I look,” I said, “then I don’t want him.”“Zara.”“I mean it. And if I never find someone, I’m fine being on my own. I’d rather be single than shrink myself for somebody.”The words came out firm. I believed every one of them.But even as I said it, something flickered through my mind that I couldn’t stop. The way Dom’s eyes had moved over me that morning. Slow. Down my body and back up. Not careful. Not polite. Like he’d liked exactly what he saw and hadn’t bothered to hide it. Like the q












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