Todos os capítulos de EDEN: Steamy Forbidden Pleasures : Capítulo 221 - Capítulo 230

But Jeremy wasn't one to let me forget who was in charge. He pulled out abruptly, leaving me empty and whining in protest. 'Nooo, don't stop!' I reached for him, but he flipped me onto my stomach with effortless strength, yanking my hips up so I was on all fours, ass presented like an offering. My red, spanked cheeks stung in the air, but the ache only made me wetter, pussy clenching around nothing.'Shut up and take it,' he snapped, one hand fisting my hair, pulling my head back to arch my spine. The other guided his cock back to my entrance, rubbing the head through my folds teasingly before shoving in deep. 'Mmmph!' I moaned into the cushions, the position letting him hit even deeper, his hips flush against my ass. He started thrusting again, faster now, the angle making his balls smack my clit with every forward motion.'God, your ass looks so fuckable like this,' he groaned, delivering a sharp smack to one cheek, reigniting the fire from earlier. The sting made me yelp, pushing

The kiss was feral, tongues tangling in a wet, desperate dance. She tasted like cherries and forbidden fruit, moaning into my mouth as I nipped her lower lip, drawing a bead of blood that I licked away.'God forgive me,' I muttered, but my hands were already roaming, cupping her ass and squeezing the firm flesh through her dress. She ground against me, her heat seeping through our clothes.'Fuck God,' she hissed, nails raking my scalp. 'Fuck me instead, you repressed holy bastard.'Her blasphemy ignited something primal. I spun her, pinning her face-first against the booth wall, my body caging hers. One hand fisted her hair, yanking her head back to expose her throat. I bit down, sucking hard enough to bruise, her pulse fluttering under my tongue. 'You selfish tease,' I growled against her skin. 'Coming here week after week, dripping your filth into my ear. You wanted this, didn't you? Wanted your priest to defile you.''Yes,' she whimpered, arching back. 'God, yes. Use me, Father. M

~Calvin's POV~ I couldn't tear my eyes away from her as she bent over to pick up the remote from the coffee table, her tight yoga pants hugging every curve of that round, hourglass ass like they were painted on. My stepmom, Emilia... Dads new trophy wife, barely thirty-five with a body that screamed temptress, didn't even notice how her plump tits strained against her tank top, nipples faintly visible through the thin fabric. Or maybe she did, and that was the problem. My cock twitched in my jeans, hardening against my will, and I had to shift on the couch, pretending to focus on the TV. It had been like this since the day Dad brought her home six months ago, introducing her as his 'fresh start' after Mom bailed. Fresh start? More like a walking wet dream I had to suppress every goddamn day.I'd lock myself in my room at night, fist wrapped around my throbbing dick, stroking furiously to the image of her bent over just like that, imagining peeling those pants down and burying my fa

'Fuck,' I rasped, my hips snapping forward involuntarily, burying myself balls-deep again. The slap of skin on skin echoed through the room, her moan vibrating against my chest. 'You trying to scare me off, or turn me on more?'She laughed, low and throaty, her nails digging into my back as she arched up to meet my thrust. 'Both, baby. Imagine it, him walking in, seeing his son railing his wife like a cheap whore. Would that make you cum harder?' Her voice was pure sin, laced with that dominant edge that had me hooked from the start. She wrapped her legs tighter around my waist, heels pressing into my ass, pulling me deeper. 'Don't stop now, Calvin. Fuck me like you mean it. Show me you're not scared of a little danger.'I growled, the blasphemy of her words igniting something primal. My hand shot to her throat again, fingers wrapping around the delicate column, squeezing just enough to feel her pulse flutter under my thumb. Her eyes widened, not in fear, but in ecstasy, her pussy flo

~Brooklyn's POV~ The salt-tanged wind whipped across my face as I stepped onto the gleaming deck of Habibi Armani's private yacht, my heart pounding like a war drum in my chest. I'd scraped together every penny from my grad school stipend to afford the designer dress clinging to my curves... a slinky black number that screamed 'ambitious' without begging for attention. But tonight, in the glittering harbor lights of Miami, I wasn't just Brooklyn the overworked psych major. I was Brooklyn the opportunist, ready to trade a little skin for a shot at the life I'd always craved. And Habibi? The Dubai tycoon who'd swiped right on my sugar baby profile like I was a limited-edition Birkin. One message from him, and here I was, heels clicking on polished teak, wondering if this was the start of my empire or the night I drowned in regret.The yacht was a floating palace, all sleek lines and throbbing bass from hidden speakers. A waiter in crisp whites appeared like a ghost, offering a flute o