Semua Bab All Yours: Bab 91 - Bab 100

The first week after I found the stash was slow torture. Victor didn’t touch me again right away. He played it perfectly—normal husband to Mom, normal stepdad to me. Helped with dinner. Asked about my day. Smiled across the table like the devoted family man he pretended to be. But his eyes… God, his eyes. Every glance across the kitchen was a promise. Every brush of his arm when we passed in the hallway was deliberate. Every time Mom turned her back, his gaze dropped to my ass, my tits, my mouth—like he was remembering how I’d looked bent over, how I’d screamed when he filled me, how I’d cum around him begging for more. I was soaking constantly. Aching. Thighs rubbing together under the table. I stopped wearing panties entirely. Wore the shortest shorts I owned around the house—denim cutoffs that barely covered my ass cheeks. Tight tank tops with no bra, nipples hard and obvious against the thin cotton. Left my bedroom door cracked when I changed, giving him glimpses

The morning after Cole took my virginity, I woke in his king-sized bed alone, sheets tangled around my naked body, sunlight streaming through the floor-to-ceiling windows like a spotlight on my ruin. My body was a map of him. Ache between my legs from how many times he’d stretched me. Jaw sore from his cock down my throat. Wrists bruised from his grip. Bite marks on my breasts, my inner thighs, my ass. Hickeys blooming across my neck like a necklace. My pussy swollen, tender, still leaking his cum when I shifted—thick, slow trails down my thighs. I expected regret. Shame. Something. Instead, I felt alive. Owned. Wanted. He’d left a note on the pillow in strong, slanted handwriting. ‘Shower. Dress in what is on the chair. Breakfast on the terrace. We are not done talking.’ I sat up slowly. On the chair was a new outfit—his doing. Soft white cashmere sweater, no bra needed. High-waisted black leggings that hugged like a second skin. No panties. Simple gold necklace

The day after the first night was unbearable.I woke up hard, cock aching, the memory of Tara’s pussy still imprinted on every nerve—how she’d clenched around me like she was trying to pull me deeper, how she’d moaned my name, how she’d let my cum drip down her chin and onto her perfect tits without flinching, thick white ropes sliding slowly over her skin in the dim light.I could still taste her—sweet, musky, addictive.I could still feel her—warm, wet, fluttering.And I hated myself for it.Ethan came home at 4 a.m.—exhausted, scrubs rumpled, eyes bloodshot from the night shift. He kissed Tara on the forehead, checked on Mia, then crashed without noticing the faint wet spot on the couch cushion or the way Tara’s nightgown was still wrinkled when she greeted him, still carrying the faint scent of sex and sweat.She played it perfectly.Smiled sweetly.Asked about his night.Made coffee.Acted like nothing had happened.But when Ethan went upstairs to shower, she walked into the kitc

Chapter 1 Jade stepped out of her sleek black sedan, the engine purring to a stop in the driveway of the suburban mansion. The night air was thick with the scent of freshly cut grass and distant barbecue smoke, a far cry from the neon-lit clubs she usually worked. She paused for a long moment beside the car. At 25, with her long raven hair cascading down her back in loose waves that caught the faint glow of the porch lights, emerald eyes that sparkled under streetlights like polished gems, and a body honed from years of pole dancing—curves that could make a man forget his vows—she knew she was the perfect hire for a bachelor party. The ad had been straightforward: high-end stripper for a groom's last night of freedom. No extras mentioned, but Jade had her limits. Lap dances, teasing, maybe a blowjob if the tip was fat enough. Sex? That was off the table. She reminded herself of that boundary again as she smoothed her palms down the sides of her tight red dress, feeling the way the

Chapter 3 The night went on and on, way past what anyone could count as normal. The big house that had felt fun and lively now felt closed off. The only sounds left were wet slaps of bodies hitting together, deep rough moans going up and down, the occasional loud smack of a hand on skin, and underneath everything, the constant slippery, dirty noises of people going way past their limits. Jade didn’t look like the same woman who walked in earlier. Her black hair was wet, messy, and stuck to her face, neck, and back. Her makeup had run down her cheeks in dark streaks and dried there. Thick lines of cum were all over her—across her chest, stomach, thighs, everywhere. Some was fresh and shiny, some was starting to dry and get sticky. Her pussy and ass kept leaking cum slowly; white cream slid down her legs no matter how she was lying or sitting, making little puddles under her. Her lips were puffy and dark from being used so much. Her throat hurt and sounded rough every time she spoke