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 6
Kelly
The 200 seats auditorium was half-full today, Prof Will paced the stage, laser pointer dancing slides: "Romantic lit demands surrender- raw, unfiltered passion." Voice smooth baritone, but his eyes locked mine every sweep. I sat at the front row, I shifted deliberately, skirt too short, thighs bare, panties silk-thong rubbing clit with each cross-leg.
Coursemates focused on him, oblivious of the weird vibe, Will's gaze lingered: pupils dilating on my parted lips, his throat swallowing when I "dropped" pen, bending slowly...thighs parting slightly, lace peeking.
He stuttered mid-sentence..."Jane Eyre's... fire," clearing throat, slacks tenting subtle. My cheeks flushed; nipples hardened, poking my blouse, Jake's marks throb under fabric.*
My phone buzzed on my thigh. Discreetly, I slid it out, thumb-flying texting my roomie Mia under desk:
*Me: Prof's eye-fucking me HARD. Lecture = porn foreplay. Gonna make him snap."
*Mia: LOL slut! Still virgin-hunt? Thought Jake popped it?*
*Me: He did. Rough. But Will? I'm obsessed. I'll have him between my thighs TONIGHT. Do all it takes, tease him till he drags me offstage, rips my skirt, and fucks me raw on podium. Begging "Prof owns this pussy.*
*Mia: Streak me pics or You've been lying. Send cock vid!*
Will paused the slide, "Kelly, what's your thoughts on Bronte's tension?" Voice edged husky, crowd turned. I met stares, licked my lips slowly, I replied. "Tension builds unbearable, Prof. Until surrender explodes." My thighs clenched, wetness soaking my panties. The whole class snickered; he flushed neck-red, adjusting his pants.
I sat, typed:
*Me: See? He's HARD. Post-class = done. Fingers, tongue, cock, every inch that's what is left.*
His lecture didn't go smoothly as usual, slides blurring as his eyes traced my cleavage, breathing shallow. "Precisely. The... release." The pointer shook slightly as I uncrossed legs deliberately, flashing garter. I watched satisfied as he gasped, audible.
The whole class began to notice his uneasiness, my phone vibrated.
*Mia: GO GET DADDY PROF. Film creampie!*
"Class's over." Prof Will's voice rang across the hall.
Students began packing, I pocketed my phone, pussy throbbing. *All it takes. Tonight, Prof Will between my thighs, claiming what's his.*
The lecture hall emptied slowly, students shuffling out in groups, backpacks slung, whispers fading. Prof Will lingered at the podium, stacking notes with deliberate calm, but his eyes burned into me. My panties were damp from his "accidental" thigh-brush during Q&A.
"Kelly, stay back after class. We need to discuss your... progress," he'd murmured, voice husky over mics.
The door clicked shut. I stood slowly, my heart racing as I approached him, heels clicking loudly on the tile. "Prof? Is it about my grade?"
He straightened, towering me. Eyes raked my body: blouse unbuttoned low, nipples peaked against silk. "Progress? You've been teasing me since day one. Turning tutoring excuses into lap dances." He stepped close, heat radiating. His fingers traced my jaw. "Is it because of last time?"
I exhaled heavy, Jake's cock fresh in mind, but Will's proximity ignited. "Do you want to make up for it, Prof?"
He growled, gripped my wrist, pulling me against his body, erection grinding my belly, hard as steel. "Let's go to my office, now."
My pulse thundered so loud as we slipped into the empty hallway, fluorescents buzzing overhead, distant voices echoing. His palm pressed low on my back, guiding me forcefully as we walked towards his office.
"Move faster, slut," he whispered hot against ear, breath fanning neck. "Is your pussy dripping yet?"
"Y-yes," I whimpered. I paused to adjust my skirt, his hips pressed into mine from behind, cock nudging my ass through the fabric.
"Feel that? I've been hard at the lecture, imagining bending you over the podium."
We arrived at his office, a plaque gleamed "Prof. Wilson." Over his door frame. He struggled with his keys, unlocked the door and shoved it open. He dragged me inside, the door barely shut before Will pinned me against the desk, his lips crashing against mine, hungry.
His hands froze on my thighs, eyes narrowing as the skirt went up, revealing fresh bruises obvious from Jake's grip last night.
"What the fuck is this?" he snarled, thumb pressing a purple mark, voice thunder-low.
I gasped, heat flooding my cheeks. "Will-it's nothing-"
"Bullshit." He yanked my skirt higher, exposing lace panties soaked but marked, hickeys trailing my inner thigh. His fingers hooked the fabric, shoving it aside; his gaze dropped to my swollen pussy lips, still tender from Jake's pounding.
"You're not a virgin anymore. "Jake" did this? Fucked you?"
Fury twisted his face... jaw clenched, veins bulging neck. He moved back, began pacing like a caged wolf, his bulge still there despite the rage. "I knew it. Little slut played me. You walked in here weeks ago, batting lashes, spreading your legs, 'Prof, teach me everything.' And now? Some boy pops "your" cherry?"
Tears burned, but my fire matched his.
"Yes! Jake fucked me... hard, raw, and claimed what you wouldn't. Thought it would erase the thought of you, Will. First day in this office, your eyes devoured me, hands brushed mine... I ached for it between my thighs. But you preached restraint. So I gave it to him to 'get you off my mind.' Turns out I failed woefully. Every thrust, I saw 'you'."
He stopped, breath ragged, his fingers curled into a fist. "Goddamn it, Kelly. " Voice cracked raw. "I've missed you since that door shut. Every time I denied I wanted you, every lonely night. I jerked off to your scent on my chair, imagining splitting you open. You're poison in my veins. Sure I'm furious. Yeah... Jake had what's *mine.* I'm not holding back anymore.."
I sighed, relieved and stepped closer, fingers tracing his chest. "Now I'm confessing, I crave you everyday. Jake's cock filled me, but your ghost owned it. Did I think of you while he fucked me? 'Yes' Pinned under him, legs spread, his dick slamming deep, while I moaned 'Will' in my head. Came hardest picturing your hands choking me, your cum flooding me."
His growl vibrated air; eyes blazed possessively. "Filthy confession. Thought some college boy's pounding erased me. Prove it." He grabbed my wrist, yanked me to the desk. "Strip. Show me that ruined pussy... then beg prof to reclaim it."
I was so horny I undid my outfit in a flash. "Please-fuck me, Will!"
His fingers plunged deep into my dripping pussy, two thick ones curling ruthless against my G-spot.
"Like that, Will!" He kept finger-fucking me till orgasm washed over me, my pussy gushing hot juices over his knuckles. He pulled out slowly, licked them clean with a growl, eyes filled with lust. "It tastes like heaven."
He spun me, bent me over the desk... papers flying, stapler clattering to the floor. His jeans went down; his cock sprang free, it was a massive, veined beast throbbing, pre-cum glistening the fat head.
"Look at this monster," he rasped, stroking it base-to-tip. "Beg for it, you cock-teasing slut. Beg prof to ruin that tight hole."
"Please, Will, fuck me raw," I whined, ass arched high, pussy clenching air, juices trailing down thighs. "Stretch me, own me... make me scream."
He chuckled, teasing the swollen head along my slit, tapping it on my clit, nudging my entrance. "Greedy little girl. Feel how wet you are for daddy's dick?" He shoved in, one inch-burning stretch, my walls fluttering. I gasped sharp. "More, please!"
He thrust in fully, brutal, burying balls-deep, splitting me wide. Pain sparked into electric pleasure; I screamed, my nails scraping the wood, pussy clamping his dick like a vice.
"Fuck, you're as tight as hell," he grunted, holding still, letting me adjust to his size. "Breathe, baby. I'm gonna wreck this cunt. No time for foreplay."
Then he moved finally, pounding like a beast unleashed, hips snapping fast, balls slapping my clit with wet smacks. The desk shook, my tits bounced free from the blouse, nipples erect and sensitive. "Take it all, my cock owns this pussy now," he snarled, one hand fisting my ponytail, yanking my head back to arch me. "Say it Kelly... whose slut are you?"
"Yours. I'm Will's dirty little slut!" I sobbed, pushing back greedily, walls rippling with every movement. The first orgasm hit me like lightning, gushing flood soaking his shaft, my thighs quaking. "Cumming Will, fuck harder!"
"Greedy bitch," he laughed filthy, spanking my ass. The thrusts turned punishing. Fingers snaked in front, pinching my clit, rubbing furious circles on it.
The second wave of pleasure built fast; I babbled nonsense. "Oh Will, you're gonna milk me dry? Here it comes."
He slammed in deeper, angle hitting the spot, sending sparks, and dirty talk pouring: "Pussy sucking like it never wants my cock out. Bet Jake's pencil dick never filled you like this."
"No... only you! Ruin me! Professor Wilson." The third orgasm exploded, I shuddered, squirting juices splattering his desk, vision whiting, screams echoing.
He roared primal, slamming final thrusts, then he pulled, hot ropes of cum painting my ass, and back, dripping down my thighs. "You're Marked, mine forever."
He collapsed on me, panting wrecks, his lips trailing my spine soft. "No more Jake," he murmured, possessive hand cupping my breast. "You're *mine* now."
I smiled, wickedly in the afterglow, pussy throbbing. Finally, I was his.
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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.
7.6
When the Pollard family kicked Alyssa out into the freezing rain, Walter threw a ten-thousand-dollar check into a dirty puddle.
"Take it and get out. Don't ever come back," he sneered.
Her adoptive mother and stepsister stood on the mansion's porch, mocking her as a worthless country girl who tarnished their wealthy name. They laughed, claiming she wouldn't even be able to afford community college and would be begging on the streets in a week.
They looked at her cheap clothes and worn backpack with absolute disgust.
They were completely unaware that for the past five years, Alyssa was the secret mastermind who had built their failing gallery into a multi-million-dollar investment empire.
Every key investment, every fortune they made, came from the anonymous notes she had slipped into their unread books. They genuinely believed they were business geniuses, while treating the true architect of their wealth like a stray dog.
Looking at their smug, arrogant faces, Alyssa didn't feel a shred of sadness, only a cold, sharp irony.
They actually believed they had raised her.
She stepped close, whispered the master code to Walter's most secret offshore account, and watched the blood completely drain from his face.
"I raised you," she said, turning her back on the mansion without hesitation.
Walking into the storm, she pulled out a heavily encrypted phone and gave a single, cold order.
"Initiate a full hostile takeover of the Pollard Group."
It was time to end this little game and step into her true life—as the world's most elusive medical genius, and the long-lost billionaire heiress of the Summers dynasty.
8.1
Samira James has two weeks left.
Two weeks until she turns eighteen.
Two weeks until everything changes.
And a few months left trapped in high school with the boy she hates most.
Calvin Simms has been her enemy for as long as she can remember. Popular, untouchable, and the living reminder of a childhood misunderstanding neither of them ever corrected. Their interactions are sharp, heated, and carefully controlled.
Until they aren't.
As months pass, tension replaces silence.
Jealousy replaces indifference.
And lines blur where hatred once lived.
With rivals watching, secrets resurfacing, and temptation growing harder to ignore, Samira must decide if sticking to her rules is worth denying what her body and her heart are already choosing.
Because some mistakes feel too good to stop.
And sometimes...
you don't fall for the person you want.
You fall for the one you swore to hate.
8.0
After fifteen years of marriage and a brutal battle with infertility, I finally saw two pink lines on a pregnancy test. This baby was my victory, the heir that would finally secure my place as the wife of mob capo Marco Vitiello. I planned to announce it at his mother's party, a triumph over the matriarch who saw me as nothing but a barren field.
But before I could celebrate, my friend sent me a video. The headline read: "MOB CAPO MARCO VITIELLO'S PASSIONATE NIGHTCLUB KISS!" It was him, my husband, devouring a woman who looked like a younger, fresher version of me.
Hours later, Marco stumbled home, drunk and reeking of another woman's perfume. He complained about his mother begging him for an heir, completely unaware of the secret I held. Then my phone lit up with a text from an unknown number.
"Your husband slept with my girl. We need to talk."
It was signed by Dante Moretti, the ruthless Don of our rival family.
The meeting with Dante was a nightmare. He showed me another video. This time, I heard my husband's voice, telling the other woman, "I love you. Elara... that's just business." My fifteen years of loyalty, of building his empire, of taking a bullet for him-all dismissed as "just business."
Dante didn't just reveal the affair; he showed me proof that Marco was already stealing our shared assets to build a new life with his mistress. Then, he made me an offer.
"Divorce him," he said, his eyes cold and calculating. "Join me. We'll build an empire together and destroy him."
7.6
Top DEA agent Kaitlynn Bruce woke up to a heavy, chemical lethargy, only to realize she was trapped in the body of a weak, abused war widow.
Before she could even process her new reality, she heard her sister-in-law counting cash, selling her unconscious body to a local thug for a measly two hundred dollars.
The thug dragged her new seven-year-old son, Cason, into the bedroom.
"Mommy!"
When the boy reached out, the man brutally kicked his small body into a wooden doorframe, leaving him gasping and bleeding on the floor.
Memories flooded Kaitlynn's mind. Her predecessor was a pathetic doormat whose husband's military pension had been bled dry by these greedy in-laws, leaving her children to starve and suffer endless abuse.
But as Kaitlynn looked at the bleeding boy's dark, unnervingly alert eyes, a chilling piece of DEA intelligence clicked in her mind.
Cason Richmond.
The name, the town, the abusive aunt—it all matched the classified files of the "Director of the Hive," the most ruthless and feared cartel puppet master in the criminal underworld.
How could this battered, starving child be destined to become the ultimate monster she used to hunt?
The original widow's tragic death was supposed to be the catalyst that pushed this boy into total darkness.
But Kaitlynn Bruce was not a victim.
Adrenaline burning through the drugs, she cracked the thug's neck with a brass lamp and choked the sister-in-law against the wall.
Looking down at the boy who was supposed to become a global nightmare, she made a vow. She was going to rewrite his script, even if she had to burn the whole world down to do it.
9.2
My husband, a ruthless mafia Capo, brought his pregnant mistress to our anniversary party. He then ordered me to give her a blood transfusion, knowing my heart condition could kill me. As my life drained away, I knew my nine-year marriage was finally over.
It was my ninth wedding anniversary, and I stood in an expensive gown, watching Dominick Reyes, a feared mafia Capo, celebrate with our guests. But the celebration wasn't for us; Dominick had brought Chastity, his pregnant mistress, and then publicly ordered me out of our master suite. Chastity, who had faked her pregnancy, then framed me for an attack. Dominick forced me to give a blood transfusion to Chastity, knowing my heart condition made it potentially fatal. As my blood drained from my veins, sustaining the woman who had stolen my life, I felt my consciousness fading, hoping I would not wake up.
When I woke, Dominick had already paraded Chastity to a gala. He had drained me, used me, and then abandoned me in a hospital bed, breaking his promise of a divorce. I was nothing more than a debt payment, a pawn in his brutal game. Knowing he would never truly let me go, I calmly called a trusted contact. I would disappear from his world, become someone new, and this time, Dominick Reyes would pay.