All Chapters of Raw Ecstasy Chronicles (A Spicy Collection): Chapter 1 - Chapter 10

44 Chapters

BOOK ONE: Craving the wrong brother's dick(1)

~Aria’s POV~It’s my wedding day, the one I’ve pinned on vision boards since I was sixteen, and every time I close my eyes to breathe, all I see is my husband’s brother’s cock.Thick. Heavy. Veined in a way that makes my mouth water and my cunt clench so hard the lace garter bites into my thigh.I’m standing here in white, pure as the lies I’m about to tell, while my pulse throbs in perfect rhythm with the memory of Damien.I remembered what happened a few days ago. I was looking for my sweet husband when my legs led me to Damien’s room. Julian always loved staying with his brother Damien,so maybe he was in there. My legs led me to the bathroom. The door stood ajar, steam spilling out in thick waves. I should have turned away. Instead I stepped inside.There he was—Damien. He stood naked under the shower, water streaming down the hard planes of his chest, over carved abs, lower. My gaze dropped before I could stop it. His cock hung heavy between strong thighs, thick even soft, darker

Craving The Wrong Brother's Dick (2)

The organ thundered. Every pew turned toward me like a wave, but the only thing I felt was the slick pulse between my thighs and the weight of my father’s arm keeping me upright. White roses trembled in my hands. The veil blurred the world into soft focus, because I didn’t trust my face. I took the first step, then another, the long satin train whispering behind me like a warning I refused to hear. Damien stood to the left of the altar, hands clasped in front of him, looking every inch the dutiful best man. Except for his eyes. Those eyes tracked me the way a predator tracks a heartbeat, lazy, certain, starving. I forced my gaze past him, locked on David’s smiling, oblivious face, and kept walking. Don’t look. Don’t look. I looked. Damien’s mouth curved, just enough. A private, filthy promise. Heat flooded me so fast my knees nearly folded. The bouquet shook; petals scattered like snow. My father placed my hand in Julian’s. Safe hands. Familiar hands. Hands that had never made m

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While I was trying to put myself together, Julian’s mother swooped in like a perfumed hurricane, planting a lipstick kiss on my cheek that felt like a brand of approval I didn’t deserve. “You are radiant, darling,” she cooed, then turned to her youngest son with a theatrical pout. “Julian, indulge your old mother in one dance before you sail off into the sunset with your bride.”Julian laughed, delighted. I laughed too, the sound brittle and bright, while Damien’s fingers were still slick with me under the tablecloth.Then I heard myself say it, the joke bubbling up from pure desperation, “Actually, if the ladies’ room could steal me for some minutes, I’d be grateful.”The table erupted in good-natured laughter. Someone clinked a glass. Julian kissed my knuckles like the perfect groom. “Go, love. We’ll survive without you for sixty seconds.”Sixty seconds. I was already counting heartbeats.I stood. The motion shifted the silk against my skin and I felt it, warm, treacherous, a slow

Craving The Wrong Brother's Dick(4)

The first spank cracked across my ass like a gunshot. Heat bloomed instantly, shocking and perfect, and the moan that tore out of me was filthy, embarrassingly and loud. The marble echoed it back, mocking me. I watched him in the mirror: eyes black, jaw clenched, the hand that had just struck me now soothing the sting in slow, possessive circles.He held my gaze while he unbuckled his belt. The clink of metal made my mouth water. My lips were already swollen from his teeth; I bit down on the lower one anyway, tasting blood and him.“Spread,” he ordered, voice gravel.I widened my stance. Cool air kissed my soaked pussy and I shivered violently, thighs trembling. The slit of my dress had ridden so high the fabric framed me like a gift I never meant to give Julian.Damien’s eyes dropped, raking over me in the mirror. “Fuck… look at you,” he rasped. “Bent over on your wedding night, dripping for the wrong brother. The most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.”I whimpered at the praise, hat

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He pulled out so suddenly that a desperate, empty ache bloomed inside me, a hollow cry ripping from my throat before I could stop it. But Damien didn’t give me time to mourn the loss. His strong hands gripped under my thighs, spinning me effortlessly, lifting me like I weighed nothing. My legs wrapped around his waist on pure instinct, ankles locking at the small of his back, pulling him closer. The soaked lace of my panties was still twisted obscenely to the side, and the thick, throbbing head of his cock found my dripping entrance again, as if it knew exactly where it belonged.My back slammed against the cool marble wall, stealing my breath, and in one brutal, unforgiving stroke, he buried himself to the root. The stretch was exquisite agony, his cock felt impossibly huge, splitting me open, filling every aching inch. Air exploded from my lungs in a shattered gasp.“Fuck, Damien—”He didn’t wait, didn’t give me a second to adjust. His hips snapped forward in hard, punishing thrusts

BOOK TWO: Wrecking Her Widowed pussy(1)

~Elena's POV~ My pussy had been dead for months until Marcus walked through my door soaked from the rain and suddenly everything inside me woke up aching and wet. Months after the funeral I still wore black most days. My husband’s death had left me completely numb with no desire no spark just empty lonely nights in the big house we once shared. When the doorbell rang that rainy afternoon I opened it to find Marcus my late husband’s father. Tall broad-shouldered silver threading his dark hair sharp jaw and those intense eyes that always seemed to see too much. He looked even hotter than I remembered. The rain had soaked his shirt clinging to the hard lines of his chest and the powerful muscles underneath. My eyes lingered on the way the wet fabric outlined his broad shoulders and flat stomach. “Elena” he said voice deep and rough with grief and something else that sent a shiver down my spine. “I came to check on you. Bring some of his things you might want.” I let him in heart sudde

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Marcus stood in the doorway, frozen, eyes darkening as he took in the sight: I was on his bed, legs splayed obscenely, dress bunched at my waist, fingers buried deep in my glistening pussy. My cheeks burned with shame, but I couldn’t stop the soft whimper that escaped as another wave of arousal hit me. “You… you weren’t supposed to be back yet,” I whispered, voice shaky, fingers still moving slowly like I couldn’t help it. His jaw clenched. The bulge in his pants grew visibly, thick and long, straining against the fabric. “Elena,” he growled, stepping inside and closing the door behind him. “What the fuck are you doing in my room… touching that pretty cunt while thinking about me?” He didn’t yell. Instead, he walked closer, eyes locked on my dripping folds. “Show me,” he said, voice low and commanding. “Spread wider. Let me see how wet my son’s widow gets for his father.” Shame and lust warred inside me, but I obeyed, pulling my panties aside, exposing my swollen, leaking pussy compl

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Marcus left the room, closing the door softly. I stayed frozen on the bed, legs wide open, fingers still circling my swollen clit, too turned on to stop. Every second felt like torture. My heart pounded so hard I could hear it in my ears. The sheets beneath me were soaked with my juices and they smelled strongly of Marcus, that woodsy masculine scent mixed with rain that made my pussy throb even harder. I kept my legs splayed obscenely, knees bent, heels digging into the mattress just like he ordered. My black dress was still bunched around my waist and my panties were pushed to the side exposing my dripping cunt completely. Downstairs I heard muffled voices. Polite small talk about condolences and the casserole the neighbor had brought. The woman’s voice was cheerful and sympathetic while Marcus answered in short gruff tones clearly trying to end the conversation fast. Every word that drifted up made my clit pulse under my fingers. I imagined him standing there with his thick cock st

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Marcus silenced the phone but the moment was cracked. I sat up quickly, guilt hitting me like ice water straight to the chest. My pussy was still throbbing and dripping onto the sheets, but shame flooded through me. “This is wrong… he was your son,” I whispered, voice trembling as I stared up at Marcus. My legs were still spread wide, his thick cock hovering just above my swollen folds, the fat head shiny with my juices. Marcus did not pull away. Instead he cupped my face with one large rough hand, his thumb brushing slowly across my bottom lip. His eyes were dark and intense, full of raw hunger that made my clit pulse despite the guilt. “He is gone, Elena. And the way you looked at me downstairs… the way your nipples got hard when I stared at your tits… the way you are dripping for me right now on my bed… this has been building for years. Do not lie to yourself. You want this as much as I do.” His words sank deep. The guilt only made the lust burn hotter, twisting inside my belly li

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We stayed perfectly still, his thick cock pulsing deep inside my soaked pussy while footsteps moved around downstairs. My heart hammered with pure terror and raw arousal. The risk of getting caught made my inner walls clench tightly around his massive shaft, milking him without meaning to. Marcus was buried to the hilt, his heavy balls pressed against my ass, and every tiny throb of his cock sent fresh sparks through my core. He leaned down slowly, his lips brushing my neck in a soft kiss that made me shiver. “Do not move,” he whispered hot against my ear. “Do not make a single sound. If she hears us, everything ends here.” The danger only made me wetter. I could feel my juices coating his cock and leaking out around the base where we were joined. My nipples were rock hard, rubbing against the inside of my dress with every shaky breath. I nodded silently, biting my lip to keep quiet as his wife’s footsteps echoed through the lower floor. Marcus started grinding against me in tiny, c

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