The flute slid from her fingers, landing soundlessly in the shallow end where bubbles still fizzed against the submerged glass. His mouth was already between her thighs—professionalism abandoned with the signed contracts—and she arched back against the chaise lounge, fingers twisting in the damp fabric beneath her. From the open French doors behind them, the scent of Cuban cigars drifted out in slow ribbons. Her father’s laughter, low and knowing, carried across the terrace before dissolving into another business call. The realtor wondered if the old man had planned this when he’d insisted on… Baca lagi

Well the truth is my friends, what I really want for christmas this year is a pleasure dom who wants to spoil me on the regular with toys and other things we can enjoy together. I sort of doubt that will happen, but a girl can dream! Remote toys are really the best- so much fun. Having said that, the only ones that I have ever tried are the Lovense ones- but I know there are others out there. How much fun would it be to chat and know that you are making me wet with each vibration that you control from the comfort of wherever you read my stories? Alone, in privacy, or perhaps in the office wh… Baca lagi

"You're staring," she said, not looking up from her phone. The coffee table groaned slightly under her weight as she shifted, the short hem of her dress riding higher—just enough. From his armchair, the father-in-law coughed into his fist. He'd been pretending to read the newspaper for ten minutes now, ever since she'd kicked off her heels and stretched out like the place was hers. The print had blurred the moment she'd uncrossed her thighs. She sighed dramatically, tossing her phone aside. "Guess I'll have to entertain myself," she murmured, fingers trailing up her own bare knee. The fabric… Baca lagi

The suite door clicked shut with the practiced silence of a man who'd spent decades avoiding attention in his own house. Jessica didn't turn around—the scent of his cologne, something woody and expensive that always clung to the office corridors, told her everything. She spread her knees wider on the satin duvet, the December chill raising gooseflesh along her thighs as she watched his reflection approach in the gilded mirror above the dresser. His fingers traced the pearl necklace he'd given her at the company's anniversary gala last month, the same pearls now resting against her collarbones… Baca lagi

The water rippled with each slow pivot of her hips, steam curling around her bare shoulders as she turned to face him—not a girl anymore, not after midnight. His champagne flute hovered halfway to his lips, the bubbles long dead. She’d practiced this in the mirror when the house was empty: how to arch her back just so, how to let the Jacuzzi jets hit the places that would make her gasp convincingly. He set the glass down on the wet tile with a clink. “You’re shivering.” A lie. The July air clung to them like a second skin. But she nodded anyway, biting her lower lip as she stepped closer, the… Baca lagi

The fax machine hummed in the corner, spitting out another meaningless report as the muffled laughter from the Christmas party seeped through the frosted glass. Her fingernails dug into the mahogany desk—not to steady herself, but to keep from sliding backward as his other hand tugged at the hem of her dress like he was unwrapping the last present. "You're quieter than I expected," he murmured against her neck, his breath smelling of scotch and peppermint from the candy canes circulating outside. The irony wasn't lost on her: she'd worn the red satin dress specifically to blend in with the ho… Baca lagi

The champagne flute leaves a wet ring on the nightstand, the condensation pooling like the sweat between her thighs. She doesn’t bother wiping it up. The silk teddy clings to her skin, sheer enough that her nipples show through when she arches her back against the headboard—a practiced pose. The ice in the bucket has mostly melted. He’s late. Again. Downstairs, the elevator dings. Her pulse jumps, but it’s just voices—a couple arguing about dinner reservations. She lets out a breath she didn’t realize she was holding and reaches for the remote, flicking through channels without seeing them. T… Baca lagi

"You're staring again," she murmured, crossing her legs deliberately—the silk of her stocking hissing against itself—as the limo hit a pothole. Her heel dangled from one toe, swaying with the rhythm of the road, and Marcus caught himself inhaling sharply when her skirt rode up another inch. The partition was up, the driver hadn't spoken since Heathrow, and the scent of her—bergamot and something saltier beneath it—clung to the air between them. She didn't look at him when she said, "You know I can't focus when you do that," but her fingers tightened around her champagne flute, knuckles whiten… Baca lagi

Jesus Christ, Claire," Mark muttered under his breath as the kitchen's sharp scent of vanilla and cinnamon hit him halfway down the hallway. She stood at the counter, flour dusting her bare thighs where the hem of that stupidly short sundress had ridden up—no nylons, just smooth skin and the faint pink imprint of her underwear elastic disappearing beneath the fabric. His coffee mug hovered forgotten in his hand. She didn't turn around, just kept kneading dough with those quick, sure motions that made her shoulders flex. "Shelley took the kids ice skating," she said, like that explained anythi… Baca lagi

The third time her thigh brushed against his under the mahogany dining table, Jacob knew this wouldn't end with dessert. Silverware clinked against china as Evelyn's father droned on about municipal bonds, oblivious to how his daughter's pinky finger now traced slow circles on Jacob's wrist beneath the tablecloth. Evelyn excused herself first—something about fetching more wine from upstairs—her cashmere sweater stretching taut across her back as she ascended the staircase. Jacob waited precisely ninety-seven seconds (he counted) before muttering about needing the restroom, following the scent… Baca lagi

The champagne flute slipped from his son's grasp mid-toast, shattering against the slate flooring with a violence that silenced the graduation party chatter. Amidst the startled gasps and hurried cleanup, Marcus Thorne's gaze lingered on the girl who caught Liam's elbow—raven-haired, sharp-boned, the tremor in her fingers visible only because he'd spent three decades reading micro-expressions across boardroom tables. Her name was Anya Petrova; Liam had introduced her months ago as his Russian Lit study partner. Marcus noted how her charcoal sweater dress clung to the ladder of her spine as she… Baca lagi

The bathroom door clicked shut behind her, steam curling around her ankles like a reluctant ghost. Towel clutched loosely, water dripping onto the tiles, she froze mid-step. A faint cedar-and-cigarette scent lingered in the hallway—foreign, invasive. Her breath hitched. He wasn’t due for hours. Yet there his leather gloves sat, precise as surgical tools, on the marble console table she’d picked out last Tuesday. She padded silently toward the bedroom, towel tightening over her skin. The shower’s roar had masked his entry, masking too the soft scrape of a key turning in the lock—his key, thoug… Baca lagi

The villa's gate groaned like a man shifting his weight after decades in the same chair. Beyond it, the scent of bougainvillea, thick and cloying, fought a losing battle against the salt tang rolling in from the Aegean. Richard Thorne, suitcase wheels crunching on the gravel, felt the divorce settlement heavy in his pocket – not papers, but the phantom ache where half his life used to be. Forty-eight, and suddenly the island breeze felt less like vacation, more like displacement. He found them poolside: his dghtr Chloe, bronzed and laughing, and beside her, a girl he didn’t recognize. She was… Baca lagi

The elevator doors slid shut with the soft sigh of hydraulics, sealing away the muffled chaos of the rehearsal dinner—clinking glasses, forced laughter, the discordant quartet of a string ensemble battling hotel acoustics. Chloe pressed the button for the 12th floor, her knuckles brushing against the cool metal panel. Beside her, Martin Carlisle, the bride’s father, leaned against the mirrored wall, loosening his tie with a weary flick of his wrist. "Quite the production, isn't it?" he murmured, his voice a low rumble that vibrated through the confined space. Chloe caught his reflection—the sh… Baca lagi

The elevator doors slid open on the 42nd floor with a soft chime that sounded like a cash register. Chloe stepped out, her reflection warping in the mirrored walls—a smudge of expensive blonde hair against the sterile chrome. She trailed the bellhop pushing the luggage cart piled high with glossy shopping bags, each one a promise wrapped in tissue paper. The corridor smelled of lemon polish and distant ocean, a scent she’d come to associate with transactions. Room 4217 was unlocked, the bellhop vanishing with a discreet nod. Inside, the suite sprawled like a stage set: floor-to-ceiling window… Baca lagi

The brochure promised "rustic tranquility," but Jessica found the estate's main house smelled perpetually of cedar shavings and the ghost of last century's cigars. Her stepfather, Robert, had handed her the keys to his vintage Jaguar upon arrival—a gleaming apology for dragging her from campus—alongside the unspoken terms: she'd charm his associates while he finalized the coastal land deal. Jessica calculated the trade-off: three months of languid poolside cocktails and unlimited spa credits in exchange for playing hostess to men whose golf shirts cost more than her textbooks. She'd perfected… Baca lagi

The scent of eucalyptus oil clung to the air, thick and medicinal, as Alexis pushed open the frosted glass door marked "Dr. Silas Vance, Chiropractic Wellness." Her usual post-Pilates glow felt different today—a low, insistent hum beneath her skin, anticipation coiling tight in her belly. She’d scheduled this "adjustment" knowing Silas’s hands wouldn’t just trace her spine. Last week, his knuckles brushing the waistband of her leggings hadn’t been accidental; the charged silence afterward, thick as the oil-scented air, was their unspoken agreement. Today, she wore nothing beneath her tight yog… Baca lagi

The fluorescent lights buzzed overhead like trapped insects, casting a clinical glare over Professor Vance's cramped office where pinned Lepidoptera specimens seemed to watch with papery indifference. Maya shifted her weight, the squeak of her sneakers against linoleum uncomfortably loud as she hovered near the doorframe. "The uterine contractions during orgasm," she began, voice tighter than she intended, "you mentioned they could facilitate conception—" "Precisely." Vance cut her off smoothly, swiveling his chair toward her. His eyes, magnified behind rimless glasses, didn't leave hers as h… Baca lagi

The front desk clerk hung the sign as Dominic locked the door from the inside- "closed for private function" is what it read to anyone casually passing by. Of course they had no way of knowing the private function was Dominic eating out my pussy in the sauna before moving to the Japanese clay baths and fucking me partially in and partially out of the mineral water. There was no point in putting on anything under the robe, but the introduction of slutty lingerie always made it more interesting for Dominic, aka Daddy. The black lace bikini style set was hitting my curves in all the right place… Baca lagi

The dressing rooms were required to be kept spotless- not a single item out of place- and so when she entered to get ready for hair and makeup before heading into the studio she immediately noticed the package sitting on her chair. Placing down her purse and taking off her coat first, she picked it up and felt its light weight. There was no return address bu there didn't need to be- she recognized her producer's hand writing immediately. The card inside the box, once she removed the paper, read: For my princess' pussy, daddy loves you and can't wait to show you later". She smiled as she flippe… Baca lagi