HIGH VOLTAGE SEDUCTION
WARNING: FOR MATURE READERS ONLY!!!
This erotica collection is raw, hot, intense, and packed with deliciously filthy fucktwists that will leave you breathless.
Each story is steamy, gripping, and driven by compelling plots that pull you deep into forbidden desire.
You will find A strict 59-year-old professor bends his tempting student over his desk and growls that she's been a very bad girl.
A college student wakes up sore and dripping in her biggest rival's bed, with no memory of how many times he fucked her senseless.
Her hot stepdad has a secret camera aimed at her bed. When she catches him watching, she doesn't rage - she spreads her legs and gives him the show of his life.
A seductive woman is the only weakness of a ruthless mafia king, and he finally claims her body as his own.
She knows her sister is cheating, so she seduces her husband right in front of her - and her sister can't say a single word.
Piper's rent is overdue. Instead of paying up, she drops to her knees for the landlord while her boyfriend watches.
A spoiled, arrogant rich brat demands a private striptease. The dancer doesn't walk away - she dances for him until he completely loses control.
An assistant's boyfriend has a huge cock, but "Daddy" knows exactly how to ruin her with his tongue. She chooses Daddy.
Best friends make a wicked bet: seduce my dad. She takes the bet... and loses all control the moment he bends her over.
Chloe has been secretly masturbating to her stepbrother's photos, moaning his name as she comes. She can't hide it much longer.
A married gym coach can't stop staring at the sexy teacher. She goes all the way and lets him take her between her thighs.
Her doctor tells her she needs rest... but she's determined to prove she's strong enough to be fucked senseless on his examination table.
Every twisted fantasy and every scorching answer waits inside these pages.
Flip the pages, spread your legs... and get ready to throb.
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Chapter 2
Kelly
The office door clicked shut behind me, sealing us in that dim, book-scented space. I sat on the edge of his desk, and my skirt hiked scandalously high.
Prof Will... god, even thinking his name made my clit throb, paced in front of me, hands shoved deep in his pockets, that massive bulge still straining his pants.
"You're playing with fire, Kelly," he growled, stopping inches away, his cologne making me lose my mind as he towered over me, chest heaving under his half-unbuttoned shirt, exposing a trail of dark hair leading south. My fingers itched to trace it.
"Me? You're the one who can't keep his eyes off me." I uncrossed my legs slowly, flashing my soaked lace panties, the cool air kissing my wetness. His eyes dropped down, pupils blowing wide, making a low groan rumbling from his throat. "Admit it, Prof. You want to taste."
He gripped the desk on either side of my hips, caging me, his breath hot on my neck. "Focus, Kelly. Here's the deal." His knee brushed mine under the narrow space. "Private tutoring. My apartment, Tuesdays, 7 PM. No distractions."
My breath caught. *His apartment?* "Just us? Sounds... intimate." I bit my lip, watching his pupils dilate, chest rising faster.
"Academic only," he growled. "Fail again, and you're out. Understood?"
I nodded, standing so close our bodies nearly touched. "Crystal, Professor."
His hips rocked forward, hard length pressing against my inner thigh, right where I pulsed for him.
"Promise?" I whispered, arching up, nipples scraping his chest through fabric. My hand slid to his zipper, palming his thickness... damn he was thick, veiny, at least 8 inches. He hissed, thrusting into my grip once, pre-cum soaking through.
"Fuck... Kelly." His mouth crashed down in seconds, tongue invading, devouring. I moaned into him, grinding my soaked pussy against his thigh, chasing friction. My fingers tangled in his hair, pulling him closer as he cupped my breast, thumb circling the tip. Sparks shot straight to my clit... I was dripping, ready to beg.
But he pulled away, eyes wild, chest heaving. "Out, now. Before I bend you over this desk." Voice wrecked, he adjusted himself, wincing.
I slid off, legs shaky, smirking over my shoulder. "See you tomorrow, Will."
"Wait, study this." He slid a textbook across, his hand brushing mine. Electricity shot up my arm, straight to my core. My cunt throbbed instantly.
"Thanks, Prof." I stood, hips swaying as I took the book. His gaze dropped to my ass before he cleared his throat.
"Door's open for questions, Kelly." The way he said my name, husky... made butterflies dance in my stomach.
"I'll save it for later." As I left, his eyes devoured my ass swaying out the door.
Next night, I showed up at his sleek downtown apartment door at 7 sharp. Black mini-dress that hugged my curves, thigh-highs peeking out, no panties, just a secret throb. He answered in jeans low on his hips and a tee that hugged his abs. "Right on time. Impresses me." His voice rumbled, eyes darkening as he drank me in.
"Wouldn't miss it." I stepped inside. His place screamed bachelor... dim lamps, a half-empty whiskey bottle on the coffee table. I loved the scent of his place, wood and spice making my mouth water. Modern loft: leather couch, city lights twinkling through floor-to-ceiling windows.
He led me to the dining table piled with textbooks, I set my bag down, he helped me arrange my books, our arms brushed, goosebumps exploded. "Derivatives first." He stood behind me as I sat, his body heat pressing close, breathing warm on my neck.
I fumbled the pencil, "accidentally" dropping it. Bent to grab it, ass arching toward him. His hands gripped the chair back, knuckles white.
"Focus," he murmured, voice husky, thigh nudging mine. But his bulge strained against his jeans, inches from my shoulder.
"Sorry, Prof." I straightened, twisting to face him, my dress riding up. "Show me again?"
He leaned in, his hand over mine on the page, guiding strokes. His touch burned, cock twitching visibly. Sweat beaded on his temple. "Like this... slow, firm pressure."
My pussy clenched, wetness trickling down my thigh. "Mmm, yeah... harder?"
He froze, pulling back sharp, eyes dark. "Break, Would you like beer?"
"Yeah, sure." My phone lit up, A message from Jake: *Party at my place. You sure you don't wanna come?* Ignored. Only Will mattered.
In the kitchen, I heard bottles clinked. He returned, handed me one, fingers lingering. "You're trouble, Kelly."
"Trouble's fun." I sipped, pressing closer, tits grazing his arm. My nipples ached, begging.
He set his beer down, hands flexing. "This is dangerous." But he didn't move, gaze locked on my lips.
We returned to equations, the tension crackling. His foot hooked mine under the table, rubbing slowly. My clit pulsed in rhythm. "Getting it now?" he asked, voice strained.
"Almost... touch it here." I pointed, guiding his hand lower on the page, fingers inches from my hem.
He exhaled ragged, palm sliding to my thigh instead. Skin ignited. "Fuck," he muttered, squeezing.
I gasped, spreading wider. His thumb traced higher, brushing lace-less heat. "Prof..."
The door buzzer shattered it, the pizza guy. He walked away, cursing under breath, bulge throbbing as he paid.
Back at the table, he avoided my eyes. "Today's session is over."
I packed up reluctantly, he stood still, just watching. He walked me to the door, hand on my lower back, fingers pressing possessive. "Same time next week?"
"Can't wait, Prof." I brushed my lips near his cheek, leaving my scent. The door clicked shut; I heard him groan inside.
I left aching, in my car, my fingers rubbed my soaked pussy to the edge, whispering, "Soon, Will."
*Will*
Kelly's scent lingered... sweet, needy. I gripped the counter, my cock rock-hard, pre-cum staining my boxers. Divorced two years, I'd kept it locked down, but Kelly? no one likes her. She is my student and it's forbidden. But that tight hot body...curves begging to be gripped, and eyes promising sin. Fuck.
But replaying her ass arched at my board... I unzipped, stroking hard, grunting her name. Cum hit my fist, shame mixing with hunger. The next session would be game over, if I didn't lock it down.
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7.3
I was tracing the gold paint on my own tombstone when a hand tapped me on the shoulder.
It was Clayton.
The same man who, five years ago, had left me bleeding out in a ditch because he didn't want to be late for my sister's engagement party.
"Die quietly, Ivy," he had said over the phone before hanging up.
Now, standing over my grave, he dropped his cheap plastic flowers in shock.
"Ivy? You're... we buried you."
They hadn't buried me.
They had buried an empty box to save face, mourning a "troubled" daughter they had actually discarded like broken trash the moment I became a liability.
Clayton's shock quickly turned to that familiar, arrogant anger.
He accused me of faking my death for attention.
He told me I was sick for putting the family through such pain.
He even reached out to grab my arm, intending to drag me back to my father to apologize.
"You're coming with me," he spat. "You owe us an explanation."
But he made a fatal mistake.
He thought he was talking to Ivy Dillard, the soft girl who cried when she skinned her knees.
He didn't notice the town car waiting at the curb, or the man stepping out of it.
Before Clayton's fingers could graze my coat, a hand made of steel caught his wrist.
Collin Richardson, the most feared Capo in Chicago, stepped between us.
"Touch my wife again," Collin whispered, his voice promising violence. "And you lose the hand."
I smiled at the terror draining the color from Clayton's face.
I didn't come back from the dead to explain myself.
I came back to bury them.
9.1
Waking up with a cold, scaly hand wrapped around my throat wasn't the worst part.
The worst part was realizing I'd transmigrated into the body of Terra Mason—the most despised woman in the entire Enclave. She drugged high-level beast-men and forced them into life-binding bio-contracts. She locked an aquatic warrior in a dry basement until his organs failed. She treated the most lethal males in the city like broken toys.
Zev, the Level 6 serpent who's currently choking me, would rather blow up his own heart than spend another day as my slave. His affection metric? Negative ninety. His trust? Zero.
Then my system activates: the Kore AI. It gives me exactly 500 credits, a medical nano-gel, and a recipe for neutralizing the radioactive poison in mutant meat. Real food. In this world, that's worth more than gold.
I save Rhys, the dying aquatic male everyone left for dead. I season a slab of purple mutant steak until Sam, a battle-scarred grizzly shifter, groans at the taste—and his trust points finally tick above zero. When my backstabbing ex-best friend tries to steal my males and destroy me, I don't scream or throw a tantrum like the old Terra. I dismantle her with the truth.
But earning their trust means more than grilling meat. A scorpion swarm ambushes us at midnight. Sam throws himself between me and a stinger the size of my arm. As he stands over the corpse, fur receding from his claws, he stares at me and whispers, "You were testing me."
Yes. I was. Because in this world, the weak don't survive. And I refuse to be weak again.
Four beast-men. Four contracts. One system. And a whole lot of steak. Let this dystopian wasteland know—I'm not the monster they remember. I'm worse. I'm the one who's going to feed them until they'd kill for me.
9.3
She sells flowers. He spills blood. And he will stop at nothing to make her his. Elena Rossi has always lived quietly among roses and lilies, dreaming of love as gentle as the petals she arranges. She thought she found it in Daniel, the man she planned to marry. Until her wedding day when a dangerous stranger walked into the church and shattered everything. Adrian Volkov is a king in the underworld, a man feared for his ruthlessness and power. But to him, Elena is not just a prize. She is an obsession. A storm he cannot live without. And he will burn the world and anyone in it, to claim her. Torn from the life she knew, Elena resists him, manipulates him, and even runs from him. But Adrian is relentless. His love is dark, his touch both punishing and tender, and his obsession inescapable. When betrayal and bloodshed close in, Elena must face the truth: She doesn't just fear him. She doesn't just hate him. She loves him. Petals and Blood is a haunting, passionate tale of obsession, betrayal, and the dangerous kind of love that blooms in shadows.
8.8
I am the best esports jungler in the league, but I've been hiding a severe wrist injury just to keep my team alive in the semifinals.
Right in the middle of the crucial tie-breaker game, our mid-laner deliberately walked into the enemy team and died without casting a single defensive spell.
He was match-fixing for offshore betting sites, throwing away our entire season for a massive payout.
Because of his betrayal, we had to sub in two terrified rookies, and we were absolutely slaughtered. The stadium crowd booed us out of the arena. The internet exploded with pure vitriol, trending hashtags calling me a washed-up fraud who hid on the bench to save my own stats. The media demanded I retire immediately. My physical therapist gave me a grim ultimatum: my shredded nerves only allow me four hours of playtime a day before my right hand completely locks up.
I destroyed my own body for this team, only to be sold out by a coward and crucified by the very fans I bled for. Why should my legacy end in total disgrace because of someone else's greed?
I refuse to step down. I forced the traitor out, ignored management's safe roster choices, and locked my eyes on the most toxic, universally hated streamer on the platform.
"He's a walking PR nightmare," my coach warned.
I don't care. He is an arrogant, unhinged killer in the game, and I am going to make him mine.
7.4
I thought my life was over when my sister died, leaving me to raise her two babies in a world that wanted to swallow us whole. Then I made the mistake of a lifetime: I left a bold, humiliating voicemail for the one man I should have feared most.
Anton Oryolov.
The ruthless king of the Oryolov Bratva. A billionaire monster who rules the city with ice in his veins and blood on his hands.
I expected him to fire me. I expected him to destroy me. Instead, he gave me a choice that felt like a death sentence: sign a contract and become his.
The rules were simple. I belong to him. I live in his shadows. In exchange, he protects the children. But as the doors of his mansion locked behind me, I realized the "forced proximity" wasn't just a business arrangement. It was a cage.
He thinks he can use me as a pawn in his dark mafia games. He thinks the children are just leverage to keep me in line. But he's starting to look at me with a hunger that isn't in the contract, and I'm seeing a man beneath the monster that I never expected to find.
In the Cruel Paradise of the Bratva, loyalty is a lie and love is a weakness. Our deal is signed in ink, but it's going to end in blood.
He owns my signature. He owns my safety. Now, he wants my soul.
7.1
For seven years, I was the architect of my fiancé's criminal empire and the strategist behind his every move. I was Dante Gallo’s unofficial Consigliere, his partner in everything but name. Tomorrow, I was finally supposed to marry him and take my place as the queen to his throne.
But on the eve of our wedding, a single text message sent by mistake detonated my life. It was a photo from Dante, showing a platinum wedding band on his hand. The message read: “Married this morning. She’s safe now.”
My gaze fell to the engagement ring on my own finger. It was the identical band, just smaller. The engraved initials ‘D.I.’ didn’t stand for Dante and I. They stood for Dante and Isabella—his childhood sweetheart. My entire relationship was a lie; I was just a shield to protect his one true love.
He dismissed my discovery as a "tantrum." Then, his new bride began taunting me, sending a picture of them tangled in bedsheets with the caption: "Loser." They expected me to break. They thought I would shatter.
They were about to find out just how wrong they were. I forwarded the picture to Isabella’s fiancé, a man far more dangerous than Dante. "Your fiancée is in Suite 8808 at the Grand Hyatt," I told him. "I'll meet you downstairs. We're going to crash their party."