Stories

Rule #1 Don't fall for Liam carter

5·AJE

Liam’s grin stretched wider as he leaned back against the kitchen counter, still holding her hand, the amusement dancing openly in his eyes.
“Alright, little pumpkin,” he said, voice low and rough with the leftover rasp of the hospital. “You asked for the ingredients. Listen carefully.”
Nora’s thumb was already hovering over her notes app, completely serious.
“First ingredient,” Liam began, eyes never leaving hers, “is a pair of soft, warm thighs that open when I look at them a certain way.”
Nora blinked, fingers pausing. “…Okay?”
“Second,” he continued, still perfectly straight-faced, “is a soft little mound, already a little wet just from being close to me.”
Her brow furrowed harder. “Liam, that’s not—”
“Third ingredient,” he pressed on, voice dropping even lower, “is a tight, pretty slit that tastes better than anything in this entire kitchen.”
Nora’s cheeks went scarlet. “W-what are you even talking about”
“Fourth,” Liam said, tugging her closer by the hand until her hips brushed his, “is a swollen little clit that gets so sensitive when I suck on it that you start shaking.”
Nora’s phone slipped an inch in her grip.
“And the final, most important ingredient,” he finished, leaning down so his mouth was right by her ear, “is the sweet, messy cum that floods my tongue when I make you come on my face.”
He pulled back just enough to see her expression wide-eyed, flushed, mouth parted in pure confusion.
Liam laughed and kissed the corner of her stunned lips.
“That’s what I want to eat, Nora. Right now. On the counter. Or the couch. Or the bed. Wherever you want to feed me.”
He tilted his head, eyes gleaming.
“Still wanna go shopping for ingredients… or are you going to let me cook?”
Nora stood frozen, phone dangling uselessly from her fingers, cheeks burning so hot she could feel the heat in her ears. Her brain was still trying to catch up, replaying every filthy “ingredient” he’d just listed like it was a recipe from some forbidden cookbook.
“Liam…” she whispered, voice small and shaky. “You—you can’t just say things like that.”
He only smiled wider, the corner of his mouth curling in that slow, wicked way that always made her stomach flip. His good hand stayed wrapped around hers, thumb stroking lazy circles over her knuckles while his injured wrist rested carefully against the counter.
“I can,” he murmured. “And I just did. Now answer the question, little pumpkin.” His gaze dropped to her mouth, then lower, lingering on the rapid rise and fall of her chest. “Shopping… or cooking?”
Nora’s free hand fluttered uselessly at her side. She could still feel his breath against her ear, the filthy promise of it. Heat was already pooling low in her belly,she tried to glare at him, but she was too flustered.
“…You’re impossible,” she muttered.
Liam’s laugh was quiet, “That’s not an answer.”
Before she could invent one, he tugged her closer mindful of his wrist until her hips were flush against his. The hard line of his cock pressed against her stomach thro

UrbanOngoing

My mother's husband wants me

19·AJE

Lily was nine years old when she watched her mother strangle her father to death. It happened in the middle of the night, while her father slept, unaware that his wife stood over him with murder in her eyes. Roselyn had learned that her husband knew about her affair. He had caught her with another man, and he had said nothing yet, but she knew it was only a matter of time. The affair itself did not frighten her. Divorce did. Everything Roselyn had, the house, the cars, the jewelry, the comfortable life she had grown used to, belonged to her husband. She had never earned a single thing of her own. If he left her, she would be left with nothing. Roselyn could not allow that. Lily had woken to strange sounds drifting down the hallway from her parents' bedroom. At first she thought her father was sick, and she crept toward the half-open door to check on him. Then she saw her mother. Roselyn's hands were locked around her father's neck. Lily's small body went rigid.

contemporaryOngoing