SCANDALOUS AFFAIRS (AN EXTRA SPICY EROTICA COLLECTION)
WARNING ⚠️: EXPLICIT CONTENT UP AHEAD. ONLY SUITABLE FOR READERS ABOVE THE AGE OF 18.
Scandalous Affairs brings together sensual short stories filled with tension, longing, and undeniable chemistry. From slow-burning connections to intense encounters, each tale explores what happens when desire takes control.
Forbidden touches. Broken vows. Power that bends to raw need.
Lust wins. Every filthy time.
Some affairs end in regret.
These affairs always end with someone begging for more.
If you want more breathtaking dirty stories, feel free to click on it.
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Chapter 4
ANNA'S POV
The following week dragged at a snail's pace after that phone call with Marcus.
I also didn't have it in me to have another conversation with Tom about not wanting Marcus to be my doctor anymore.
So when the hospital called to confirm the follow-up appointment for the ultrasound and physical examination, I simply said I'll be there.
The morning of the appointment Tom barely looked up from his cup of coffee.
"I can't come today. I have a big meeting with foreign investors. You'll be fine on your own. Dr Marcus knows what he's doing."
I nodded, a bit relieved that he wouldn't come. And a bit terrified that I would be alone with Marcus.
Arriving early at the hospital, I've barely made myself comfortable in the waiting area when a nurse calls my name.
" Mrs Goldberg, Dr Hale is ready for you."
Marcus was waiting in the exam room that the nurse led me to. His expression was one of indifference; no emotions were displayed on his face.
What was I expecting?
It was as if that phone call didn't happen.
I consoled myself that it was for the best, but a part of me was hurt.
"Good morning, Mrs Goldberg. Your husband didn't accompany you?"
"No, he has an important meeting," I said quietly, looking everywhere but him.
"That's fine. Today we'll be doing a full physical exam and a vaginal ultrasound. It will give us a clearer picture of what your insides look like." His voice was so stiff and clinical, no emotions.
He gestured to a curtained area I didn't even notice. "Please undress and put on the hospital gown. I'll step out to give you privacy."
I did as he instructed, hands shaking as I folded my clothes neatly and put on the paper gown.
It barely covered anything, it was so thin and exposed.
Marcus knocked once and came back in. I walked over to the exam table, lay down and kept my legs pressed together.
My heart was racing.
Marcus rolled a stool to the front of the table and adjusted the stirrups. "This is a chair for pelvic exams. You need to place your legs on the stirrups and let your knees fall open."
His tone was so commanding that it made me quickly obey. The gown slipped higher, leaving me completely exposed.
The air conditioning in the room hit my bare pussy.
My face flushed at the contact.
"Good." He said, pulling some gloves on. " Please relax, it'll be over before you know it."
Sitting between my spread legs, he pointed the overhead lights on my bare crotch.
I stared at the ceiling, trying to detach myself from the situation but I couldn't.
"This is the first physical exam," he announced softly.
His gloved fingers parted my already slick pussy lips, inspecting them.
Oh my!
He was staring at my pussy.
My body shook slightly from lust and embarrassment.
"Your labia appears healthy, no irritation."
His touch was soft, but my body remembered these hands.
He mashed my pussy lips together, rubbing them softly.
Little squelching sounds from my vagina fill the room.
"Do you feel any tenderness?" He asked.
"Uhm....No." I murmured, fighting the urge not to moan.
He nodded, then picked another tool from the table nearby.
"This is the speculum, it's going to go in you."
He parted my pussy again as I felt the cool metal slide inside me. He opened it slowly, and I gasped at the stretch.
"Mhmmmm" I moaned in part pain and arousal.
"Breathe, Anna. You're doing so well." He encouraged, rubbing my thigh with his free hand.
This was the first time today he was addressing me with my name, or even showing a bit of emotion.
"Your cervix looks good too."
When he finally took that awful tool out, I thought the worst part was over.
But then, he rubbed cool gel on his two fingers. "Now, I'll check inside myself. I need to check your uterus."
He pushed those thick fingers in my cunt. My walls clenched tightly around his invading fingers. "Please, tell me if it hurts."
Hurt?
It felt too good. His fingers moved around inside me.
He was practically finger fucking me. I was getting soaked, I felt it dripping down my inner thighs.
His fingers were forceful now. This wasn't a normal checkup.
My legs quaked, as I bit my lips hard to keep from screaming out. His thumb was grazing my clit with every forceful shove back in.
"Everything feels fine. No lumps or anything abnormal. Speaking of lumps, I need to check your breasts for any swelling."
Was a physical exam supposed to feel this way?
He pulled his fingers out abruptly, leaving me aching.
Standing up, he helped me pull the gown away from my straining tits.
"Mmm...Marcus...." I moaned, feeling so exposed and loving it. My legs were spread open, boobs out with straining nipples.
Taking my boobs in his huge hands he squeezed them together, pinching my pink nipples.
"They look fine, no swelling." He mumbles, voice strained as he fondles my boobs.
I gripped the table hard. My pussy feels too empty.
"Marcus.... please I need..." I whimpered, body aching most deliciously.
"I'll take care of you, sweetie" He whispered, kissing my hair.
He pushed those thick fingers back between my spread thighs, while still pinching my left nipple.
"Fuck...Dr Hale...please," I moaned as he finger fucked my pussy harder, hitting my spot head-on with those long fingers.
I was so close to cumming, already feeling the sensations when he stopped.
Why did he stop?
He pulled his fingers from my unsatisfied cunt. And letting go of my nipple.
"You should go." He spoke in a stiff tone.
"What? You can't just get me worked up and leave me hanging." I shouted at him, feeling frustrated.
"You're a married woman, remember?" He hissed, as if angry at that information.
It was as if a bucket of water was poured over my head.
He quickly handed me tissues to clean up, making sure not to stare at my face.
"You can clean up, and get dressed."
I nodded robotically, already feeling drained with the mixed emotions.
I entered the curtained area, putting back my clothes. My jeans are sticking uncomfortably to my swollen parts.
I felt super sensitive, like any hard rub would have me coming hard.
When I came out again, Marcus was taking notes on a book.
"Do you have any questions?" He asked, still not looking at me.
"I don't"
"We'll schedule your next appointment in two weeks. Please, Mrs Goldberg, make sure your husband accompanies you." He stated.
"Asshole," I mumbled as I walked out.
My legs felt weak, body still humming.
Who the fuck does he think he is, getting me worked up over nothing?
Now he wants to act the saint.
"Fuck you, Dr Hale," I whispered as I slammed my car door shut.
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7.3
I borrowed my wealthy best friend's identity to seduce Colonel Ethan Christensen. He was the powerful uncle of my ex-boyfriend, Kayden, who had brutally dumped me for a rich heiress.
My revenge plan worked too well. Ethan fell deeply in love with my fake persona and proposed. But then he handed me a thick envelope: a top-secret military background check requiring fingerprints and ten years of history.
My fake identity was about to be shattered. I faced federal fraud charges and prison time. More than that, the guilt was eating me alive. Ethan wasn't a pawn; he was a genuinely honorable man who promised to protect me. Terrified and exhausted by the lies, I typed out a full confession, ready to tell him everything and walk away.
But right before I hit send, Kayden's new fiancée called to gloat about their engagement. Through the phone, I heard Kayden's voice, lazily mocking my low status.
"Tell her to stay home. Tell her to find someone on her own level in the gutter."
The rage burned away all my guilt. Why should I be the bigger person while they destroyed my life without a second thought?
I deleted the confession and called my friend to hire a black-market hacker. I needed a flawless, forged background in forty-eight hours. I am going to marry Ethan Christensen, and I am going to smile when Kayden is forced to call me "Aunt."
8.0
Finley's stepfather gave her a sickening ultimatum: marry her predatory stepbrother Shane tonight, or he would throw her fragile mother out on the street.
To escape this hell, she used a matchmaking agency and hastily married a complete stranger. Garrison Strickland claimed to be an ordinary data analyst making $95,000 a year, driving a beat-up Honda Civic, and needing a wife in name only. They got their marriage license at City Hall that very afternoon.
But when Finley returned home to pack her bags and threw the certificate on the table, her family just laughed. Dozier ordered Shane to drag her into the bedroom to "teach her a lesson" and trap her forever.
"Come on, little sister," Shane crooned, lunging at her. "Don't fight it."
Finley's own mother just stared at the floor, blaming Finley for ruining the family, watching blindly as Shane cornered her.
Terrified and desperate, Finley smashed an ashtray over Shane's head and frantically dialed her new husband's number. Shane snatched the phone, mocking the "imaginary husband" before the line went dead. Finley felt a bottomless despair. Garrison was just a normal guy; he would never risk his life against her violent family. She was completely on her own, waiting for the end.
Suddenly, deafening bangs echoed through the house, and Garrison stepped into the living room radiating a cold, terrifying fury. This supposedly "frugal data analyst" effortlessly snapped Shane's wrist, leveled a ruthless death threat that made Dozier tremble, and whisked Finley away in a waiting Bentley. Looking at the powerful man beside her, Finley's heart raced: just who exactly had she married today?
7.2
I thought I was just marrying a middle-class commercial pilot who proposed to me in a Brooklyn cemetery to fulfill his grandmother's bizarre dying wish.
But when an arrogant pilot tried to harass me at the airport, my "ordinary" husband suddenly appeared, his eyes like chips of ice.
"Take your hand off my wife."
With that single cold command, he had the airline's top executives groveling and the man practically fired on the spot.
Everyone called him "Mr. Chandler." He handed me an exclusive black Centurion card, claiming it was just a standard "manager's perk." His retired parents, who supposedly ran a small business, visited me wearing Patek Philippe watches. I ignored all the glaring red flags, foolishly believing I had just lucked into a stable, caring marriage after a lifetime of disappointments.
Yet, despite his constant, suffocating generosity, he kept a physical wall between us. After a kiss so desperate and hungry it felt like he had been starving for it his entire life, he violently pushed me away.
"We should take this slow."
I couldn't understand why a man who looked at me with such intense, possessive devotion would treat our marriage like a sterile business deal. Why was he orchestrating every perfect detail of my life while refusing to even share a bed with me?
I had no idea that the man sleeping in the guest room wasn't a pilot at all. He was Harmon Chandler, the ruthless billionaire emperor of the Chandler Group. And he had been secretly monitoring my every move for ten years.
9.8
I reached for my fiancé's phone to silence an alarm and found a hidden folder named "The Protocol."
Inside was a spreadsheet that systematically dismantled my entire existence.
Task 399: Buy blue hydrangeas. Note: Her favorite. For Denzel.
Task 400: Schedule anniversary dinner. Note: Make sure she feels special. For Denzel.
In that heartbeat, I realized the man I had loved for three years hadn't looked at me once without seeing a chore list left by his dead brother. I wasn't Elfrieda Stewart, the woman Jaxon Tate loved. I was a legacy project.
The truth turned lethal at our engagement gala. When a massive chandelier detached from the ceiling, Jaxon didn't lunge for me.
He tackled his "ex" Janice—who I later discovered was his secret wife—to safety.
He left me standing in the center of the target to be crushed by shattering glass.
But the cruelty didn't end there. On a "reconciliation" yacht trip, Janice pushed me overboard. Jaxon looked at me struggling in the freezing black water, then threw the life preserver to her.
He saved the shark and left me to drown.
I lost everything in that water, including the unborn child I hadn't even told him about.
He thought I was dead. He thought he was free to play house with Janice.
But my brother pulled me from the darkness.
And when I resurfaced in Norway, wearing the ring of a man far more dangerous than Jaxon could ever dream of being, Jaxon realized too late that he had destroyed the only thing that could have saved him.
9.6
Daniella Harris never imagined her life would change dramatically after graduating high school.
Diego Johnstone, her forgotten stepbrother, reappears surprisingly-paying off her adoptive parents' debt and taking her away.
Unbeknownst to Daniella, Diego wanted her for himself, even if it meant going against his own family.
But their relationship was fraught with obstacles. When Daniella's family planned her marriage, Diego found himself trapped in a matchmaking situation he didn't want, and they had to decide whether to give up on fate or fight for each other.
9.5
My husband Kamden and I were the most powerful couple in New York, an unbreakable alliance of wealth and influence. To the world, we were perfect, especially with our new baby daughter, Penny, waiting for us at home.
But the illusion shattered at the Jasper Stone gala when Cason Vincent walked in. He wasn't just a rival; he was a dead ringer for Kamden—a cruel, predatory mirror image who seemed to know the secrets of the year I spent in London.
In front of the city’s elite, a socialite screamed that I was a fraud, accusing me of using Kamden as a "substitute" for the man I truly loved. The music stopped, and the room turned into a sea of judgmental whispers.
I expected my husband to shield me, but the paranoia in his eyes was sharper than any rumor. He grabbed my scarred left hand—the one I had ruined to save his life years ago—and squeezed it until I winced in pain.
"Am I just a replacement?" he hissed, his voice trembling with a terrifying insecurity. He didn't see the wife who had sacrificed her world-class piano career for him; he saw a woman who had settled for a copy.
The injustice of it felt like a physical blow. I had destroyed my body and my future to keep him safe, yet he was ready to believe a stranger’s lies over three years of marriage. He didn't want the truth; he wanted me to beg for his forgiveness for a sin I never committed.
I realized then that my silence wasn't an admission of guilt, but my last shred of dignity. I pulled my hand away and walked out of the gala alone, leaving Kamden standing face-to-face with the man who had come to dismantle our lives.