All Chapters of Painful Pleasures(Short Steamy Collections): Chapter 71 - Chapter 80

*Few weeks later. The annual company gala was supposed to be a boring networking thing. Instead it felt like the night everything finally cracked open. Elena couldn’t make it, because of some migraine or work deadline, she said. So there I was in a fitted black cocktail dress that hit just above the knee, hair down, trying to act normal while Alexander moved through the room like he was intentional trying to get me soaked just by his presence. Which he basically did. He’d ditched the tie, top button of his shirt undone, looking way.. too good under the dim lights. I stuck to one glass of champagne at first. Then two. By the third, the edges of everything felt softer and warmer. The music had picked up after the speeches, and people were dancing in the middle of the ballroom. I was standing near the bar when he appeared beside me. “Dance with me,” he said. Not really a request, but I just said "Why not?" I let him take my hand and pull me onto the dance floor. His palm

The Monday after that night, I could barely look Elena in the eyes again. When she called to check in. She sounded tired but happy, talking about her conference. I mumbled normal sister stuff and hung up fast, my stomach in knots. Alexander had already texted me twice that morning. Short messages. Filthy ones. By Wednesday the tension at the office was unbearable. We acted normal in front of everyone, but every time he walked past my desk I got wet, every time he said my name in a meeting I remembered how he’d groaned it while coming inside me. That afternoon, around five, he messaged me: “My office. Lock the door behind you. Now.” I waited until most people had left, then slipped inside. The second the lock clicked he was on me. He shoved me against the door, hand over my mouth. “Been hard all fucking day thinking about this pussy,” he growled, yanking my skirt up roughly. His fingers pushed my panties aside and slid straight into my soaked cunt. “Already dripping. You

I sank deeper into the couch, pulling the massive fleece blanket over my legs. Movie night had become a THING since Mum got married to Steven six months ago. She always loved it, said it helped us feel like a proper family. I didn’t mind. Steven was actually pretty cool, and honestly… easy to go with. Dad was different 😔💔. But Steve was fine.. “Pass the popcorn, love,” Mum said, already halfway through her glass of wine. Steven sat on the other end, remote in hand, scrolling through the options. He was in a plain black t-shirt and the usual sweatpants, the kind that hung low on his hips when he stretched and would visibly indicate the position of his cock in his pants. It gave me a cringe feeling So,I tried not to notice stuff like that, but it was getting harder lately. He was forty-four, fit from years of playing rugby, with a deep voice and this calm way about him that made the house feel at home again. We settled on some new thriller everyone was talking about. L

I never thought I’d be this nervous at my own house. It was a hot Saturday afternoon, it was really hot that the air shimmered above the pool tiles. My brother Jake had invited his three closest friends over for a pool party, and I’d spent the last hour pretending I wasn’t dying inside with excitement and nervousness. I was anyways the shy type and I’d had a massive crush on all three of them for years now-- Secret, filthy, can’t-look-them-in-the-eye crushes. There was Ryan; tall, 6’3”, with broad shoulders and messy dark hair that always looked like someone had just run their fingers through it. Gawwd.. His abs were ridiculous, carved from years of swimming and gym sessions. Then came Tyler, lean and tattooed, with sharp cheekbones, piercing blue eyes, and a smirk that made my heart skip a beat. And last was Marcus the quiet one. Dark skin, massive arms, deep voice, and a thick, powerful build that made him look like he could toss me around without breaking a sweat. They were

My name is Tom, and I’ve been in love with Susan Carter since the first week of senior year. She’s smart, funny, ridiculously hot, and way out of my league. So when Mrs. Ramirez paired us together for the final history project, I thought it was the best and worst thing that had ever happened to me. We’d been working on it for two weeks now, meeting after school in the library, texting about sources, arguing over formatting. Susan was a perfectionist. That’s why we were still in the library at 6:30 p.m. on a Friday, laptops open, surrounded by books and empty coffee cups. “Shit,” Susan muttered, rubbing her eyes. “The library closes in thirty minutes and we’re nowhere near done with the presentation.” I glanced at the clock. “Yeah… we’re screwed.” She looked at me for a long second, biting her lip. Then she shrugged. “My parents are out of town for the weekend. We can go back to my place and finish it there. I’ve got a big desk and faster Wi-Fi.” I froze. “Your house?” “Yeah