johnson090

Wanting more Abby💕 My tits sway back and forth, and I thank God I have small ones, or they’d be damn near slapping me in the face. The guy behind me—I can’t remember his name at the moment—grunts his way through pounding into my pussy. His hands dig into my hips and sweat drips onto my back. My walls clench around his hard cock, but it still isn’t enough. I need more. My stomach starts cramping and sweat—not from the sex itself, but from the insistent need for release—forms on my brow. Fisting the sheets in my hands, I ram my hips back to meet his relentless thrusts. Looking over my shoulder, I growl, “Either fuck me harder or get the hell out so I can find someone to do it for me.” The hands on my hips tighten, and I know it’ll leave a mark later. I don’t care. I just need this guy to get the job done before the pain takes over. “Fuck, babe,” he groans. “I fuck you any harder, I’ll plow you into the mattress.” “Just do it,” I hiss. “Jesus,” he grunts, but does as he’s told and slams his hip bones into my ass as he pumps into me forcefully. I straighten my arms when his thrusts push my body forward. A blissful sigh leaves my lips, followed by a low moan when he finally hits the spot I need him to. My fingers start to tingle from lack of circulation, so I unwrap them from the sheet. My body starts to quiver with the first ripple of my orgasm. I close my eyes, and tiny sparks of light shoot behind my lids as the cramps in my stomach turn to flutters of delight. I lower my arms and lay my head against the cool sheets as immense pleasure takes over my body. The guy behind me still pounds away, jerking my hips back to him. I pay him no mind, content to just lay here and let him have at it. I got what I needed from him, it’s only fair that he reaches his peak as well. Several minutes pass before he grunts and stiffens behind me. He releases my hips, and I immediately drop to the bed. He falls down beside me with his arm thrown over his eyes, breathing heavily. Now that my brain is functioning properly again, his name comes back to me in a flash Matt. Matt was my lifesaver for the night. As appreciative as I am of him, I really need him to go now; I don’t like it when they linger. I may need sex from men on a daily basis to keep my sanity, but I don’t let them stay afterwards. I don’t do relationships. I know I’m a bitch—using men for sex and discarding them—but I have a damn good reason. I roll to my side and get out of bed. I bend with my ass facing Matt to pick up his clothes to toss at him. I lost my modesty a long time ago, and if it wasn’t for my job, or the fact I would get arrested for indecent exposure, I’d never wear clothes. It would make things so much easier when the need took hold. During the day I’m fine, but by the time evening rolls around, the urge grips me tight and leaves me in a near panicked state. I came so close to having an anxiety attack tonight. I thought I would have to call my friend, Nathan, to come rescue me. Luckily, Matt showed up and caught my eye at the perfect time. And here we are now, an hour later, with him still lying on my bed, and me standing with my hands on my hips, glaring at him. He didn’t take the hint when his clothes landed on his stomach, so it looks like I’m going to have to be blunter. I reach out with a foot and nudge his leg. “Hey, it’s time to go.” His arm moves, showing off sleepy, plain brown eyes. “Can’t you give a guy a minute to recover?” he mutters. “No. I need you to leave right now,” I tell him. I spy my panties on the floor and pick them up to slip up my hips. I’m exhausted, and want nothing more than to sleep. A niggle of guilt tries to worm its way in with how I’m treating this guy, but I push it back. I’ve learned the hard way over the years that in order to keep my inner emotions intact, I’d have to build a steel wall around myself. I hate being a bitch, but it’s the only way to protect myself. Only a handful of people know the real me. Matt grumbles as he drags himself from the bed. I ignore him and pull on a cami, sans bra. Using the hair tie from my wrist, I pull my thick blonde hair up into a ponytail as I wait for him to finish. I tap my fingers on the doorframe I’m leaning against, while he sits on my bed and pulls on his shoes. It’s normally the guys that are hell-bent on leaving as soon as they are done, but not this guy. He’s taking his sweet time, and it’s grating on my nerves. He finally stands and makes his way over to me. I’m just about to turn around and lead him to the door when he boxes me in by planting his hands on the doorframe on either side of me. “

Seraphine Vale is whisked away to Aetherborn Academy after a terrifying magical incident, she expects answers, not four dangerously captivating boys who seem unnervingly drawn to her. Alaric, the cold vampire noble. Kade, the brooding werewolf with eyes like storms. Damien, the charming dragon prince. And Lucien, the beautiful, unreadable incubus who invades her dreams. Each boy reacts to Seraphine as if they've known her far longer than she's been alive... and each one's powers surge unpredictably around her. As forbidden feelings spark and jealousy rises, Seraphine discovers a chilling truth: a prophecy ties her fate to theirs and to a sealed ancient power capable of either saving or destroying their world. Dark forces begin stirring beneath the Academy, hunting her magic... and her heart. To survive, Seraphine must unravel the mystery of who she really is and which boy she can trust when love itself might set the prophecy in motion. Because awakening the Aetherborn doesn't just change her destiny. It changes everyone around her.

A normal teen, normal home, normal life. Then all of a sudden, not so normal. She has been living a lie. A lie she wasn't aware of. One guest, One night, Changes everything. Danger, greed, envy, war, bloodthirsty Vampires... And she's in the middle of all this. Caught in a story of love and hate. A story she didn't choose, A story she has to live. Her new story.

In a kingdom where loyalty is currency and love is a liability, one runaway princess and one disguised prince might change everything. Grand Princess Aurette Evigheden Roosevelt was born with a crown on her head-but not the freedom to choose her fate. When her parents force her into becoming the royal mistress of King of Vulon, Aurette chooses rebellion-and vanishes beyond the palace walls, chasing a sliver of freedom through forests thick with memory and danger. Haunted by a childhood tragedy and the twin brother she lost, Aurette learns that the world beyond the palace gates is far more tangled than courtly whispers. But Ruilux is a kingdom poised on the edge, and even the softest bloom may grow thorns to survive.

The numb cold started in my fingertips, creeping inward. I watched Chloe, my wife, her face a mask of impatient fury in the dim tent light. Outside, a blizzard howled, the soundtrack to my dying. My miraculous blood, the blood that could heal, drained from my arm, a crimson offering for a dead man. "More," Chloe demanded, her voice sharp. "It' s not enough. You have to bring him back." Her childhood sweetheart, Jake Miller, lay frozen nearby, a corpse. "Chloe, it doesn' t work like this," I rasped, my vision blurring. "I can heal injuries. I can' t raise the dead." "Liar!" she shrieked, her grief a twisted venom. "You can heal anything! You won' t save him because you' re jealous! It' s your fault he went up that mountain! If you hadn' t forced me to marry you, he' d still be alive!" The accusation was a sick joke. I had healed her to repay a debt, a lie used to trap me. I wasn' t a god, just a medical prodigy. As my lifeblood pooled, the world faded to black, her hateful face my last sight. Then, bright, sterile light. I gasped, eyes flying open in a pristine hospital room. My hands were whole, warm. Mrs. Davis, Chloe' s mother, stood by the window, worried but hopeful. This was the day it all began, the day they begged me to heal their daughter. I remembered my profound sense of duty, repaying a girl I believed saved me. That single selfless act led to a year of loveless marriage, resentment, and my own murder. "Dr. Hayes," Mrs. Davis said, trembling. "We' ve heard about your… gift. They say you can perform miracles." She stepped forward, hands clasped. "My daughter, Chloe… she' ll never walk again. But we believe… you can save her. Please, we' ll give you anything." But my gaze was cold. I saw the contempt, the venom of my past in her desperate eyes. I had been a fool. A naive, sacrificial lamb. Not again.

My supposed death was three years ago. Today, the man who orchestrated it all, Liam Miller, returned, oblivious to the spectral presence tethered to him. I was once his fiancée, tricked into a whirlwind romance orchestrated by his family. My rare O-negative blood, compatible kidney, and healthy womb weren't assets to him, but resources to be exploited for his ailing nephew Leo and his "childhood sweetheart" Chloe. At our engagement party, Chloe faked an allergic reaction, and Liam, without a second thought, abandoned me, wine-stained and humiliated. When I finally found the courage to break things off, a shocking discovery emerged: I was pregnant. He transformed into the "doting partner," but only to cage me in his family' s estate, planning to harvest our child' s cord blood and stem cells for his family's needs. Upon realizing their monstrous plot-that my baby was to be an organ farm-I tried to escape. Liam caught me, a torrent of terror and rage erupting from me. The sheer stress triggered an early, violent labor. They took my child, left me for dead in a remote clinic, and believed I was gone forever. My soul, however, remained bound to Liam. I witnessed his hollow grief, Chloe's triumphant manipulation, and the family's casual cruelty. He thought I was dead, yet still intended to carve me up for parts. But he had no idea. This was just the beginning. I was a ghost, a witness, and soon, I would be his reckoning.

The imperial selection, a grand affair that could secure a family' s fortune, was upon us. But in the Thompson household, excitement was replaced by a chilling demand. My mother, Mrs. Thompson, gripped my hands, her face a mask of strained concern. "Sarah, you have to do this for us. For the family." She wanted me to go to the selection in my cousin Emily' s place, "fail gracefully," and return home a nobody. I looked at her, her words a haunting echo from a life I' d already lived. The last time, I believed her. I failed as instructed, but nobody ever came for me. I spent three years as a low-ranking intern, enduring humiliation and grueling labor, clinging to the promise of my family. When I finally scraped enough money to return, I found red lanterns and festive decorations. My cousin, Emily, was marrying my fiancé. My mother saw me at the gate, tattered and starved. "What are you doing here?" she spat. "You' re an embarrassment. Go away." The gates slammed shut, laughter from inside filling my ears as I collapsed in the snow, my life bleeding away. Then, I woke up. Back in my room, my mother' s voice a poisonous murmur. "Sarah, you have to do this for us." A bitter laugh almost escaped. I was back, at the very moment of my ruin. But this time, things would be different. I pulled my hands from her grasp, a cold resolve settling in my heart. "I will go. But I will go as Sarah Thompson. And I will not fail."

The antiseptic smell was the last thing I remembered. In my "other" life, the one that ended in blood and despair, I died from late-stage cancer in an unpaid hospital bed. My parents, Sarah and Robert, cried. They held my hand, promising to take care of everything, just as they had for years while I diligently sent them money for my health insurance. But they lied. The money was gone, squandered on a secret life. My father finally broke, confessing they' d adopted a son, Liam, channeling all my money to him, building a new family on the foundation of my slow death. The betrayal shattered something inside me. The weight of the kitchen knife, my mother' s scream, then nothing. Until I blinked. Sunlight streamed through my bedroom window. My husband, David, slept beside me. My body felt healthy, a full year before Dr. Evans' death sentence. A terrifying, undeserved second chance. I remembered the insurance renewal notice I' d ignored yesterday because I trusted them. This time, I wouldn't. When I called my mother, her usual syrupy sweetness faltered. "Oh… perfectly fine if you handle that yourself," she said, before asking for another twenty thousand dollars for renovations. I gave it to them, a ticket to the truth. Then came the photo: a blurry, half-demolished kitchen, and in the corner, a bright blue, brand-new plastic dinosaur. Liam already existed. The confusion lifted, replaced by a cold, sharp purpose. The hunt had begun.

For love, I walked away from ancient power, trading immortality for a quiet life with my wife, Seraphina, and our daughter, Willow. We lived simply, off the grid, far from the world I once protected. Then came the nightmare. A chilling premonition: Willow in agony, Julian Thorne's smirk in the shadows, and Seraphina, my wife, turning away. I knew I had to go back to the world I'd abandoned – to Seraphina' s opulent Sterling Order, to reclaim my lost power, my Heartwood Staff. But instead of understanding, I found a stranger. Seraphina, cold and distant, dismissed my warnings, believed Julian's lies, and allowed him to frame me. My daughter and I were thrown into a desolate prison, starving, defenseless. My wife, the woman I sacrificed everything for, watched, indifferent. I thought my heart was broken then. But nothing, absolutely nothing, prepared me for the moment Seraphina, my own wife, raised an arcane device and aimed it at our daughter. Willow' s scream still echoes in my soul. Her eyes… blinded by her own mother' s hand. In that instant, lying broken and helpless, something awakened within me. Not the man I tried to be, but the ancient Guardian I was always meant to be. The Solstice Gala is tomorrow. I' m coming back for my reckoning. And this time, she won' t turn away.

The fluorescent lights of my bedroom ceiling seared my eyes, but it was the calendar that truly paralyzed me. Today' s date. The exact date I swore I' d never live through again. The day Tiffany Evans, with her carefully crafted mask of vulnerability, first asked to stay over. My heart hammered, a frantic drumbeat against my ribs. Because I remembered. With chilling, vivid clarity, I remembered every agonizing detail. Tiffany. Her insidious lies. The false accusation of sexual assault that exploded like a bomb, obliterating my brother David's D1 scholarship, his reputation, his entire future. I watched our golden boy, the star quarterback, turn into a ghost haunting our home. Then came the tragic street race, his desperate escape that led only to death. Mom and Dad, their love and lives stolen by grief, followed soon after. My own end? A blur of white-hot rage, a final, bloody confrontation with Tiffany that claimed both our lives. I' d pitied her once. That pity cost us everything. This time, the familiar scent of my mom' s laundry detergent on my sheets felt like a cruel joke. The betrayal of Mark Jenkins, David's jealous best friend and Tiffany's willing accomplice, still stung like a fresh wound. How could I have been so blind? But then, it clicked. The shock, the jolt of pure adrenaline. I was back. A second chance. A terrifying, incredible gift. No pity this time. No room for error. I knew Tiffany's game. And this time, I wouldn't be a pawn. I would be the ultimate player, ready to rewrite our fate.

You've heard the Greek mythology story about Hades and Persephone. Well, here's a different version: Korey 'Persephone' Jones was one of the best florists in town. At 24 she is working for the best flower shop in town stumbles upon a cave to a whole new world. After being employed by Wade Wilson, not everything is as it seems, Korey discovers the terrifying truth that her parents kept her from, Hades. Will she run away, or will she face the truth?