Amber walked into the classroom with her heart pounding like a drum. It was Wednesday afternoon, and the winter sun slanted through the tall windows of St. Catherine's Academy, casting long shadows across the oak desks. She had spent the days since the last seminar in a haze of confusion and secret longing. Professor Khalid's words from the museum echoed in her mind constantly. Some women are born to be claimed. And you, little one, were born to be claimed by me. Every time she thought of them, heat rushed through her body, settling between her thighs in a insistent ache.
She chose her seat in the second row again, smoothing her uniform skirt over her legs. The white blouse felt tighter today, or maybe it was just her imagination. Her full breasts pressed against the fabric, the lace bra underneath doing little to hide how sensitive her nipples had become. Just thinking about him made them harden, dark points visible if anyone looked closely. And he would look. She knew that now.
Support helps me create the kind of stories that breathe fire, raw, emotional, and unafraid of desire. My goal is to write with honesty, explore the depth of power and surrender, and build a space where readers who crave intensity feel seen. Every bit of support lets me go deeper into the world I’m crafting… and stay committed to telling the truth of these characters.
Write a comment ...