Filthy Fantasies - A Collection Of Spicy Stories

They've been together since thirteen.
Married at eighteen.
Now twenty-two, wildly in love, disgustingly rich, and completely obsessed.

Chloe and Carter don't argue.
They don't go to work.
They don't care about rules or reality.
They just fuck like it's a sport-and roleplay like it's an addiction.

Every night, a new fantasy.
Every scene, a new obsession.
Strangers. Secrets. Power games.
Sometimes sweet. Sometimes rough. Always filthy.

She lives to tease.
He lives to destroy.
And together, they'll blur every line between love, lust, and full-blown madness.

This isn't just sex.
It's performance. Obsession. Pleasure.
And they're not stopping until they've ruined each other.

From Chapter 2:

"Bend over," he growls.

"Make me."

He yanks me down into his lap instead. His hand flies up my dress, finding my bare, dripping heat.

"No panties?" His voice is low, shocked, filthy.

I moan into his ear. "Good girls don't wear panties on fantasy night."

"Dirty fucking girl," he growls, grinding me down against his lap. "You're soaking. For me?"

"For a stranger," I whisper. "A big, dangerous one. The kind that uses my throat without asking."

He bites my shoulder.

"You're not walking out of this theater dry, baby. Or quiet."

He drags me off his lap and sits back in the theater seat. "On your knees."

My heart pounds as I slide between his legs, hidden in the dark, the sounds of the movie giving us just enough cover.
He unzips.
Holy. Fuck.

I know this cock. I've had it in every hole. But something about doing this here, pretending I don't know the man attached to it? Makes me insane.

He's already thick and pulsing, veins popping, tip glistening. I lick my lips.

"You better be loud when you gag, Lola," he grunts. "I want every row to know someone's getting their throat fucked tonight."

I spit on his cock, loud and messy, stroking him slow.

"God, look at you. You love this, don't you? Being my filthy little stranger. Getting your face fucked in public like a whore."