Lahat ng Kabanata ng Naughty Empires: Kabanata 31 - Kabanata 40

I’d been dancing for three hours straight, the bass from the speakers still throbbing between my legs like a second heartbeat. The Velvet Lounge smelled like sweat, perfume, and spilled whiskey tonight, and I was already soaked before the last customer even slid his hand up my thigh. My stage name was Jade, but right now I was just a girl who’d run away from a house that never felt like home.I hated my mother—her screaming, her belts, the way she’d look at me like I was the reason her life turned to shit. Stephan, my stepdad, had been the only soft thing in that house. Quiet. Kind. He’d sneak me money for school supplies, cover for me when I came home late, never once raised his voice. But kindness alone couldn’t keep the roof from caving in. So at twenty I packed a duffel and left without saying goodbye. Three years later I was twenty-three, topless, and grinding on strangers for rent.Tonight I’d taken a regular into one of the smaller champagne rooms—dim red lights, black leather

Chapter 3The next morning the Velvet Lounge felt like a fever dream. Stephan had left just before dawn, kissing me slow and deep at the back exit, his cum still leaking down my thighs under my robe. He’d pressed a key into my palm and whispered the address of his new apartment — a sleek high-rise downtown, far from the old house and my mother’s screaming.“Come see me tonight after your shift, baby. I need to know you’re really okay.”I slept a few restless hours, showered, and by evening I was standing outside his building in a simple black sundress, no bra, no panties. My pussy was still tender and swollen from last night, every step reminding me of how deep he’d fucked me.The doorman let me up after I gave Stephan’s name. When the elevator doors opened on the 18th floor, he was already waiting in the doorway — casual gray sweatpants and a tight black t-shirt that showed off his broad chest. His salt-and-pepper hair was slightly messy, like he’d been running his hands through it.

Chapter 2The next morning hit me like a freight train. I woke up with my cock still painfully hard, tenting the thin sheet like it had a mind of its own. Every single detail from last night replayed in my head on loop: Mrs. Voss’s calm hazel eyes, the way her silk robe had whispered against her skin, the low, velvet command in her voice when she told me to strip. My balls felt heavy and sore from all that edging, a dull, throbbing ache that refused to fade no matter how many times I shifted on the mattress.I hadn’t slept more than two hours. Every time I drifted off, I’d feel phantom fingers tapping the head of my cock or hear her soft chuckle calling it “cute” and “pathetic.” My face burned again just thinking about it. I was twenty-one, a grown man, and I’d knelt naked on her hardwood floor, stroking myself stupid under her watchful gaze while she sipped wine like it was the most normal thing in the world.I forced myself out of bed, legs shaky, and stumbled to the small attached

I shoved hard against his chest, my palms slamming into the firm wall of muscle beneath the crisp black button-down. The fabric was cool against my heated skin, a stark contrast to the burning flush that had taken over my entire body. “Get out,” I hissed, trying desperately to sound authoritative, like the seasoned professional I was supposed to be. But my voice came out breathy, trembling at the edges, betraying every conflicted inch of me.Damien didn’t move. Not at first. He simply stood there in the shadowed doorway of my closet, towering over me even in the dim moonlight. His cock remained shamelessly exposed, thick and rigid, jutting forward from the open fly of his jeans like a challenge. The veined shaft glistened with a sheen of pre-cum, the flushed head swollen and proud. A single heavy drop clung to the slit before it slowly trickled down the underside. His hand still loosely encircled the base, fingers long and elegant, as if he had all the time in the world to torment me.

My heart was hammering so hard I thought it might crack my ribs. I stood in the dimly lit hallway of the house that had been my home for the last four years, clutching the white towel against my damp skin like it was armor. The shower steam still clung to me, curling the loose strands of my long brown hair. I was twenty-two, fresh out of college, and I had no business feeling like this—especially not about him.Mark. My stepdad.He wasn’t supposed to be home this early. His construction company usually kept him out until at least seven, but his truck was in the driveway and the low hum of the TV drifted from the living room. I should have gone back to my room. I should have locked the door and touched myself quietly like I had every night for the past year, imagining his rough hands instead of my own soft ones. But tonight something inside me snapped.I was tired of being the shy, quiet girl everyone saw. The bookworm who blushed at compliments and hid in oversized hoodies. After Mom