LOGINThe next morning, I avoided him. I took a different route to class, walking through the humanities building instead of the science block. I ate lunch in the library, hiding in a corner booth where no one could find me. I ignored Chloe's texts asking where I was, telling her I had a headache. I told myself it was a one-time thing. I was different from other girls. I wasn't going to become another story whispered in dorm rooms. I wasn't going to be the one waiting by her phone, hoping he'd text. Three agonizing days slowly passed. I thought I had escaped. I thought I had buried it deep enough that it wouldn't resurface. Then I walked into the laundry room in my dorm basement, and he was there. Jake Morrison, leaning against the dryer, his arms crossed, his eyes fixed on me like he had been waiting. He was wearing a gray hoodie, the hood up, his hands shoved into his pockets. He looked like he hadn't slept. "Ava." he said, his voice quiet but intense. I stopped. My heart slamme
"Don't flatter yourself," I gasped, though my body betrayed me as I rocked my hips against his rigid length. He laughed, low and dark, the vibration rumbling against my throat, and pulled my shirt over my head. My bra followed quickly, leaving me completely bare to his dark, heavy gaze. He leaned down and took my nipple into his mouth, sucking deeply, his tongue swirling around the sensitive peak before pulling back to bite it gently. I groaned, my fingers gripping the damp strands of his hair as a heavy, throbbing ache settled low in my belly. "You're so wet for me," he said, his fingers tracing the seam of my jeans, sliding between my legs, pressing firmly against my aching center. "I can feel it soaking through the denim." "Shut up and fuck me," I whimpered, desperately needing to be filled. He grinned, his eyes flashing with triumph. He pulled off my jeans and panties, dragging them down my legs and tossing them to the floor, leaving me shivering and naked on the counter. He
I hated him. That was the first thing I told myself every time I saw him walking across campus. Jake Morrison was a junior and the star of the basketball team. Known for one thing and one thing only… the way he fucked girls and left them aching for more. I had heard the stories. Every girl who went home with him came back with that glazed look in her eyes, that dreamy smile, that pathetic desperation when they whispered, "He hasn't texted me back." I rolled my eyes every time. "Come on, Ava, you have to admit he's hot," my roommate Chloe said for the hundredth time, watching him walk past our table in the cafeteria. "He's average," I said, biting into my apple. "And I'm not interested in campus legends. I'm here to graduate, not to be another notch on his bedpost." Chloe laughed. "You say that now." "I mean it. He can never get me. I'm different from other girls." The words felt good coming out of my mouth. They made me feel empowered, and I believed them. The party was at C
He let out a low growl of satisfaction, and then he leaned in and captured my lips in a hard, hungry kiss that tasted like rum and salt. His tongue parted my lips easily, deep and demanding, and I whimpered into his mouth, arching my back to press myself closer to his massive chest because the sheer size of him overwhelmed me.He broke the kiss for a second while both of us were breathing heavily in the dark, a thin string of saliva connecting our lips in the moonlight."You're shaking," he growled, his eyes locked onto mine."Because of you," I whispered.He smiled a dark, wicked look, and he reached down to grab the hem of my gown, bunching the fabric up in his fists and lifting it slowly up my legs until the cool air of the cabin hit my bare skin. He pushed the dress all the way off me, his warm palm stroking upward along my inner thigh until his cock slid closer to the center of my heat.I hooked one leg around his hip, craving the contact and unable to stop myself as I whimpered,
"Where is Lord Lucas?" my mother asked, adjusting the lace on her sleeves as we reached our reserved table in the grand dining saloon. "He sent word that he was feeling indisposed from the rough waves," my father replied coldly, pulling out a chair for her. "He requested a private meeting with me in the smoking lounge instead, so sit down, Genevieve, eat your food, and don't make a scene." The walk to the saloon had felt like a march to the gallows, and even now, my body was still weak and shaking from the pirate's fierce touch. I sat down in my stiff emerald dress and stared at my porcelain plate, but I couldn't swallow a single bite because the silver fork felt like lead in my hand. "Excuse me, please, but I need some fresh air," I murmured quietly, pushing my chair back. Without waiting for permission, I walked out of the suffocating dining room into the carpeted corridor. As I passed the semi-open doors of the private smoking lounge, my father's sharp, business-like voice cau
"Shh," he growled against my skin, his hands gripping my hips to pin me down. He began to lap at me with long, heavy, wet strokes. Each slide of his tongue was a deliberate torture, slow and deep, drinking the sweet juices that were beginning to coat my thighs. He swirled his tongue around my sensitive peak, sucking the swollen nub into his mouth and gently drawing on it. "Ohhh... ah! It's too much," I cried out softly, tossing my head from side to side. Someone is going to hear. The ship's timber carries every sound. I can't... I can't stop the moans. I bit down on my lower lip, trying to muffle the desperate, high-pitched whimpers escaping me, but he only used his fingers to part me wider, diving deeper. His tongue flicked faster, harder, catching the rhythm of my frantic breathing. Every touch was electric, turning my bones to liquid. He slid two calloused fingers inside my tight, virgin heat, stretching me slowly while his tongue continued to mercilessly tease my clit. The dual
The studio was a furnace. The air was thick with the scent of sweat, expensive cologne, and the raw, heavy energy of sex. Mr. Rowe and his daughter had just finished their session—their forbidden, sweet, sticky session of fucking on camera. My skin felt too tight. My blood was roaring in my ears.
The studio was a furnace of sweat and heat. I was pressed into the corner of the room, the heavy light stand feeling like the only thing keeping me upright. My knuckles were white from gripping the pole so hard.Right now, Mr. Row was behind Princess, his body a blur of muscle. She was bent over th
I went upstairs, my heart hammering like a drum against my ribs. I pulled on black leggings and a long, oversized shirt, though it did little to hide the way my breath hitched. I looked at myself in the mirror one last time. I didn't know what I was feeling. Good? Bad? Happy? Sad? Definitely not sa
I froze. My heart dropped into my stomach, then started pounding against my ribs so hard I could barely breathe. The screen was still glowing, showing the end of the scene. I looked at the darkness near the stairs, then back at Vaughan."I... I just came down to get a glass of water," I lied—a very







