“At long last… this fucking wedding is finally over,” I mutter, barefoot, toes curling against the cool tile as I head to the kitchen for something to eat.

Tyler had been glued to me the whole damn day. Every dance, his hands sat low on my waist, fingers digging in like he already owned every inch. I can still feel the pressure of his palms, the way his thumbs kept rubbing slow, lazy circles right above my ass. It made my stomach do this stupid little flip, heat pooling low even now. God, I’m grinning like an idiot just thinking about it.

Soon it’ll be only us. Him. That thick cock I’ve been dying for. His house, his yacht, his last name—mine.

I bite my lip hard to kill the smile.

Footsteps come down the hall. Speak of the devil.

Tyler rounds the corner, shirt half undone, tie gone, whiskey sharp on him. We almost pass each other when his hand shoots out and catches my wrist, grip firm, warm, possessive.

“Don’t forget,” he says, voice low and gravelly, the kind that makes my thighs press together. “Midnight. Your room. I want the truth tonight.”

I step right into him, letting my swollen belly brush against the front of his pants. My fingers trail down his bare chest, nails scraping lightly until I feel his muscles jump under my touch.

“Of course,” I whisper, leaning up so my lips brush his ear, breath hot. “Husband of the year.” I drag my tongue slow over his earlobe, tasting the salt on his skin. “I’ll be naked and waiting, baby. Don’t you dare be late.”

He makes this rough sound in his throat, eyes going dark. “Won’t be,” he growls, then forces himself to walk away toward the master bedroom, shoulders tight.

Get ready, Jess. Tomorrow’s gonna be hell for you.

I’m still grinning when my stomach growls again. Right. Food first.

2:00 a.m.

I’m sitting on the edge of the bed, completely naked, one leg crossed over the other, heart hammering so hard I can feel it in my throat. The lamp casts this soft gold light over everything. My skin feels too warm, too tight.

The door creaks open.

Tyler steps in, shirt hanging open, chest rising and falling fast like he’s been pacing. He closes the door behind him and just stands there, eyes locked on me.

“Lock it,” I say, voice quieter than I expect.

He reaches back, twists the lock without looking away. The click is loud in the silence.

“You actually came,” I breathe.

“You think I could sleep after that shit you whispered at the reception?” His voice is rough, strained, like the words hurt coming out. “Tell me it’s bullshit, Joyce. Tell me my wife didn’t lie to me for months.”

I stand up slowly, hips swaying just a little as I walk to him. I press one finger to his lips, feeling how warm they are.

“Shh… Get on your knees first, daddy.”

He lets out this deep, broken groan and drops right there on the carpet. His big hands grab my ass immediately, squeezing, spreading me open. Then his mouth is on me—hot tongue dragging slow and filthy up my slit before he latches onto my clit and sucks hard.

I’m dripping already. I can feel it running down my thighs, smearing across his chin as he eats me like he’s starving. My fingers slide into his hair, gripping tight, pulling him closer while I roll my hips against his face.

“Fuck—right there,” I gasp, grinding harder, legs starting to tremble.

He pushes two thick fingers into me without warning. They slide in easy, curling just right, pumping fast. I shove his face deeper and ride his tongue shamelessly, breath coming in short, needy pants.

“Oh shit—yes—don’t stop—”

I come hard, thighs shaking, hips jerking as I flood his mouth. He groans against me and swallows, throat moving, messy sounds filling the room while it drips down his chin onto his neck.

I yank his head back by the hair, chest heaving, trying to catch my breath.

“Pants off. Now.”

He stands up fast, hands fumbling with his belt, zipper ripping down. His cock springs out—thick, hard, the head shiny and leaking. It slaps heavy against his stomach.

I turn quick, climbing onto the bed on my hands and knees, ass up high, back arched, belly hanging heavy beneath me, face buried in the pillow.

He grabs his cock, rubs the fat head over my clit once, twice, teasing until I whine and push back. Then he lines up and presses in just enough to stretch me.

“Start talking,” he growls, voice wrecked.

“She’s infertile,” I pant, pushing back onto him. “Been lying for months. Tomorrow she was gonna have them cut the baby out of me at ten weeks—”

He slams in deep in one brutal thrust.

“Fuuuck!” I cry out into the pillow, fingers twisting in the sheets.

He doesn’t go easy. His hips slap hard against my ass, balls smacking my clit with every thrust. My tits swing heavy, belly bouncing under me, the bed creaking loud. I’m so wet it’s messy—creamy arousal coating his cock, leaving white rings every time he pulls back.

He grabs the veil still tangled in my hair, yanks my head back like reins, and fucks me harder, deeper.

“Say it again,” he grits out through clenched teeth.

“It’s our baby—only ours—she was gonna steal it—”

He flips me onto my back so fast my head spins, throws my legs over his shoulders, folding me in half. I’m wide open, helpless, his weight pinning me down.

“Ultrasound’s in the folder—look—”

He snatches the papers with one hand, eyes scanning while his hips keep slamming into me, relentless.

“She lied to my fucking face?” he snarls, throwing the papers aside.

His hands grip my hips tight, pounding so deep I feel him in my stomach.

“Yes—daddy—yes—”

I squirt hard, soaking his abs and thighs, my whole body shaking. He pulls out, slaps his wet cock against my clit twice—sharp, stinging—then buries himself again and comes with a deep, broken groan. Thick, hot spurts flood me as he keeps grinding through it, cock twitching inside.

We collapse together, both panting, his heavy body pressing me into the mattress, cock still buried deep, pulsing.

I reach under the pillow, grab the pen, and push it into his hand.

He signs every page without pulling out, cum leaking around him with every scratch of the pen.

“Tomorrow,” he whispers against my mouth, voice raw, “she’s gone.”

I smirk and clench around him, milking that last drop.

“Good boy.”

7:00 a.m.

I walk downstairs barefoot, the shirt I stole from Tyler barely covering anything. Fresh hickeys cover my neck and chest, and my thighs still feel sticky from last night.

Jessica’s already in the kitchen, tote bag on her shoulder, that little white tennis skirt riding up slightly, ponytail swinging as she hums like nothing’s wrong. She thinks we’re just running errands before tomorrow’s “procedure.”

Tyler comes down first—barefoot, sweatpants hanging low, face cold as stone. I follow right behind him.

Jessica turns, smiling bright. “Hey honey, good morn—”

The smile drops the second she sees me—half-naked in his shirt, belly obvious, looking freshly fucked.

“Is it true?” Tyler asks, voice flat and cold.

Her face goes pale. “Is… what true?”

“That you’re infertile. That tomorrow you were gonna have doctors cut my son out of Joyce and pretend it was yours.”

The tote bag slips from her fingers and hits the floor with a dull thud.

“Tyler—”

“Answer me.”

Tears start falling immediately. “Y-yes,” she chokes, voice breaking. “I was scared you’d leave me. I didn’t want to lose you—”

She drops to her knees, hands grabbing at his sweatpants. “Please… please don’t—”

Her eyes dart to me, full of hurt and rage. “You… After everything? The double shifts so you could go to Cambridge? Paying your tuition? Writing your essays while you were out partying? I gave you a home, a future… and you do this? Steal my husband and my baby the day after my wedding?”

I lean against the doorframe, one hand slowly rubbing my belly, watching her crumble. It feels so fucking good.

Tyler steps closer to her. “None of that matters anymore,” he says coldly. “I needed a son. Joyce is giving me one. You two look the same anyway. It’ll be like nothing changed.”

He pulls the signed divorce papers from his back pocket and drops them at her feet.

“Out by noon.”

Jessica breaks completely—sobs tearing out of her as she crawls forward, clutching his legs, begging through ugly, shaking cries.

Tyler turns away from her like she’s nothing. He walks straight to me, slides both hands over my belly, and kisses me deep and slow, tongue sliding against mine while she sobs behind him on the floor.

“P-please… Tyler… Joyce… don’t do this…”

I break the kiss just enough to look over his shoulder at her.

“It’s over, bitch. You’ve got until noon to get the fuck out of my house.”

I lace my fingers with Tyler’s, and we walk away together, leaving Jessica shattered and crying on the cold kitchen floor.

Maddison’s POV

I tug my skirt a little higher up my thighs under the desk and bite the inside of my lip, trying not to let my face show what’s happening. A new chapter of Sinful Fantasies dropped an hour ago and… fuck, I’m already gone.

“Ahhh… yes Daddy! Pound that sloppy cunt,” Mandy begged in the story while Norman pinned her wrists above her head, choking her as he slammed into her so hard the headboard cracked.

I whimper softly, thighs squeezing and sliding together. My pussy is soaked, making that quiet, wet sound every time I shift. God, I can practically feel Norman’s thick black cock splitting me open.

Sigh… “But I’m stuck with these,” I mutter under my breath, holding up my five fingers.

I glance around the lecture hall—everyone’s heads are down, scribbling notes or staring at their laptops. No one’s paying attention. My hand slips under the desk, fingers rubbing slow circles over my clit through my soaked panties.

“Hss… not enough,” I hiss between my teeth, hunching my shoulders like I’m super focused on my screen.

My eyes flick left, then right. Clear.

I hook the edge of my black panties and pull them aside. Cool air hits my slick, puffy folds and I shiver. Using two fingers, I spread my cunt lips wide open, exposing my swollen pink clit completely.

The thrill shoots straight through me. “Fuck, that feels good,” I think, imagining it’s his tongue instead.

Then I feel it—that heavy, burning stare crawling over my exposed pussy like a physical touch.

I don’t look up right away. I let the moment stretch, let the heat of his gaze lick over my clit. When I finally raise my lashes, there he is.

Mr. Marcus.

The new literature lecturer.

He’s standing at the front like he walked straight out of the damn story. Tall, broad, dark skin glowing under the lights. Shoulders that look strong enough to hold a girl up while he fucks her senseless. Thick forearms flexing as he grips the podium, sleeves rolled up to his elbows, veins popping every time he moves. His chest strains against the buttons of his shirt like it’s about to lose the fight. And that jaw—sharp, shadowed, clenched so tight the muscle jumps.

He looks exactly like Norman. Same quiet power. Same big hands made for choking and gripping and owning.

And right now, those dark eyes are locked between my legs. He sees everything—my glistening pink clit, my beefy lips spread wide by my own fingers, the slick shining on my inner thighs.

His throat bobs hard as he swallows. His lips part like he forgot how to breathe. One hand tightens on the edge of the podium until his knuckles go pale.

Fuck, I want him.

I bite my lip, slow and seductive, a crazy idea sparking in my head.

He clears his throat and tries to go back to the lecture, but his voice is rougher now. Barely holding it together.

I push two fingers inside myself nice and slow, letting my tight, wet heat stretch around them. My mouth drops open in a silent gasp as I curl them deeper, hitting that spot that makes my toes curl.

His eyes snap back down. I watch his huge bulge strain against his zipper, thick and obvious.

My eyes flutter half-shut, lashes trembling. A soft, slutty little “Uhh…” slips out before I can stop it, my tongue peeking out to wet my lips.

Every time my fingers thrust in, my hips give this tiny, helpless roll under the desk.

“—FUCK!”

His voice cracks loud across the room.

The class murmurs. “What was that?” “Is he okay?”

Mr. Marcus’s neck flushes deep red. He coughs, shuffling papers he’s already shuffled twice. “Ahem… sorry. Um… where was I?”

Marcus’s POV

Shit… my neck is burning.

What the hell is she doing?

I stare down at the textbook, trying to find where I left off, but the words are blurry. I look up again.

Fuck. She’s still at it.

Her arm moves in that small, steady rhythm under the desk. Her lip is red and a little swollen from how hard she’s been biting it. Those pretty eyes are half-lidded, pretending to stare at her laptop, but every few seconds they flick up to check if I’m still watching.

I am. I can’t stop.

My dick is throbbing so hard it hurts, trapped painfully against my zipper. Every heartbeat makes it pulse. I’m so hard I’m getting lightheaded.

I turn toward the board, pretending to write something, but really I’m just trying to breathe. My forehead is damp with sweat. That image of her spread-open cunt is burned into my brain—pink, dripping, her fingers sliding in and out over and over.

I want to storm down the aisle, grab her by the hair, bend her over the nearest desk and fuck her raw until the whole building hears her screaming my name.

Instead, I slam the marker down harder than I mean to.

“That’s it for today, class,” I announce, voice rough.

I snatch my textbook and lock eyes with her one more time. Her fingers are still buried deep inside herself, and she slowly drags her tongue across her bottom lip in the filthiest way.

A low groan almost escapes me as my cock twitches violently in my pants.

“Miss Maddison,” I say, louder and sharper than I intended. “My office. Now.”

I make it to my office, slam the door shut, and start pacing like a caged animal. My hand keeps rubbing over the massive bulge in my pants, trying to ease the ache, but it only makes it worse.

“Where the fuck is she?” I mutter, heart pounding.

A soft knock at the door makes me freeze.

“Come in,” I say, trying to sound calm as I move behind my desk.

Maddison’s POV

“It worked!” I whisper to myself, grinning like an idiot as I lick my two fingers clean, tasting myself. “Fuck, I can’t wait to get my mouth on all that cock. Just you wait for me, my Norman.”

I giggle softly and glance down the hallway. “This should be his office… D9, right?”

I take a quick breath, smooth my messy hair, and knock.

“Come in.”

I push the door open and step inside, still a little out of breath. “You called for me?” I say, blowing a stray strand of hair off my face. My skirt is still hiked up weird from earlier, but I don’t fix it.

“Y-yes…” Mr. Marcus coughs, his eyes jerking away from where my skirt has ridden up, flashing the edge of my panties. Beads of sweat are already forming along his hairline.

“Shut the door, please,” he says, voice tight and nervous.

I lean back against it with a big, slutty grin, pushing it closed with my ass. The lock clicks softly.

“Do you know why you’re here?” His voice cracks on the last word. His eyes are all over me, dark and hungry, like he’s already imagining ripping my clothes off.

I just stand there, biting my lip, waiting for him to make the first real move… but he’s clearly struggling. Poor guy.

Sigh. Time to help him out.

“So here’s the deal—” he starts, but I cut him off.

“No. Here’s the deal,” I say, letting my gaze drop straight to the thick outline of his cock straining in his pants. It looks fucking huge. I bite my lower lip without thinking, feeling a little tremor run through my legs as I step closer.

“You could write me up… get the school involved…” I trail off, stopping right in front of him, close enough to smell his cologne mixed with nervous sweat. “Or…”

I place one hand flat on his chest and push him back until he’s sitting on the edge of the desk. The wood creaks under his weight.

“…you can fuck me. Like in the erotica.”

My voice comes out all breathy, cheeks burning hot. “I’d pick the second one if I were you.”

He doesn’t even hesitate.

His hands grab my ass hard, fingers digging in as he yanks me against him. His mouth crashes into mine—messy, desperate, all tongue and heat. I groan into the kiss, tasting coffee on his tongue. He lifts me onto the desk like I weigh nothing. Papers and pens go flying everywhere, scattering across the floor with little clatters.

He breaks the kiss just long enough to fumble with my buttons, fingers clumsy and shaking as he pops them open one by one.

“I was thinking the same thing about choice two,” he mutters against my neck, breath hot and ragged.

My bra is barely containing my tits, soft flesh spilling over the cups. He stares at them like he’s starving, chest heaving. “Fuck… I can’t wait to get between these.”

He yanks one breast free, squeezes it roughly, and latches onto my nipple, sucking hard. His tongue swirls wet and greedy while he frees the other one and pinches the nipple between his fingers, rolling it until it’s stiff and aching. I moan loud, arching my back, threading my fingers through his hair and pulling him closer. Heat shoots straight down to my pussy with every suck.

His cock is throbbing visibly in his pants now, the bulge even bigger. He groans in frustration, unzips, and lets it spring out—thick, veined, rock-hard, the fat head already shiny with precum. It’s even bigger than my favorite dildo. My mouth waters instantly.

“It’s even bigger than my dildo,” I whisper, eyes wide.

He wraps a hand around the base and strokes it slow, teasing me. “Turn around,” he growls, voice low and rough.

My legs are shaky as I spin around. He flips my skirt up and smacks my ass hard. The sharp sting makes it jiggle, and I feel fresh wetness drip down my thighs from how turned on I am.

“Fuck yeah,” he groans, slapping the other cheek. The sound echoes in the small office.

I moan and push back against him, bracing my hands on the desk, knuckles turning white.

He drops to his knees behind me, buries his face between my cheeks, and shakes his head side to side like he’s trying to drown in me. His hot breath fans over my pussy, then his tongue licks broad and messy, tasting everything. I whimper, grinding back against his face.

He pulls back just enough to push two thick fingers into my soaked cunt. “Fuuuck,” I moan, back arching sharply as my hips buck.

He reaches around and grabs my tits from behind, squeezing them roughly while his fingers pump faster. “Faster—please go faster!” I beg, voice breaking.

I reach back, grab his head, and shove his face harder into my pussy. He sucks my clit hard, tongue flicking fast while his thumb circles it. My thighs start quivering badly.

He spreads my ass cheeks wide with both hands, completely exposing me, then dives back in, tongue pushing deep. I can hear him groaning against me, his cock dripping precum onto the floor.

I’m so close—moaning louder, body tensing up—when he tugs my hip, signaling me to turn.

I face him again. He grabs his thick cock and rubs the fat, leaking tip slowly over my swollen clit. I grip his shoulders, nails digging in, panting.

He pushes in—slow at first—and we both moan as my tight, wet walls stretch around him. The desk scrapes against the floor as he starts thrusting harder, sweat beading on his forehead. My tits bounce wildly with every slam. He can’t resist—he grabs them, pinching my nipples hard while he pounds deeper.

“Cum for me,” he growls.

I shatter. My eyes roll back, body shaking as I squirt hard all over his cock and the desk, my pussy clenching tight around him.

He grunts deep, pulls out at the last second, and shoots thick ropes of hot cum across my ass cheeks. He slaps his still-pulsing dick against my jiggling ass a couple times, wet smacks filling the room.

But I’m not done.

I turn around, drop to my knees, and take him into my mouth, sucking the last drops from the tip. My lips stretch wide around his thickness. I bob slowly at first, savoring the salty taste, then faster, drool running down my chin.

“Jesus fuck yes,” he groans, holding my head gently and guiding me deeper until he hits the back of my throat. I don’t gag—just take him, looking up at him with watery eyes and a little smile.

He throbs hard. I suck faster, and he grunts, exploding in my mouth. I swallow every drop, greedy, then wipe my lips with the back of my hand.

He helps me up, breathing hard, and gives my ass one last firm smack that makes it jiggle again.

“Naughty girl,” he says with a breathless, dazed smile.

I hook my bra back on, pull my skirt down, and watch him tuck that monster cock away, both of us still clumsy in the afterglow. My cheeks are flushed, my pussy still tingling and wet.

“That was fun. Just like in the erotica,” I giggle, buttoning my shirt with shaky fingers.

“Yeah…” he agrees, running a hand through his messy hair.

Then his eyes land on my phone on the desk—the red recording light still blinking.

He tenses. “Why is your phone’s camera blinking red?”

“Oh… nothing,” I say, smirking as I snatch it up and slip it into my pocket. “See you next Tuesday, my Norman.”

I blow him a kiss, still buzzing with that slutty thrill, and saunter out of his office, the door clicking shut behind me.

God… I’m already craving more.