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.
Chapters
Share
Chapter 5
ANNA'S POV
The drive back home was pure torture. Every bump on the road made my swollen, sensitive pussy throb harder against my soaked panties.
My nipples were still tingling from Dr Hale's rough hands, rubbing roughly against my bra.
A lot of emotions were going through me, anger winning against the others. But still turned on so much I could barely think straight.
When I got home, I was surprised to see Tom at home, lounging on the couch.
" How did it go?" he asked looking at me.
I froze.
I wanted to just spill the truth. I was getting tired of the lies and betrayals, but I couldn't.
I could just imagine the look on my husband's face when I tell him Marcus fingered his wife's pussy until she almost came.
Of course, I couldn't say that. So I lied.
"It went well" I said softly, making sure my face didn't give anything away. "He said everything looked good. And he thinks there's a chance of me getting pregnant soon."
Tom's face lit up like a Christmas tree. He stood up so fast and pulled me into a big hug as he kissed my forehead.
"That's great news, babe! We're finally getting somewhere."
I nodded against his chest, as guilt pooled in my stomach.
God. I was such fucking liar.
Marcus could barely even look at me today.
Towards the evening, Tom was so excited that he even cooked dinner, which he had never done before.
Then, out of nowhere, he grabbed his phone.
"I'm gonna call Marcus to thank him. Maybe treat him to dinner to celebrate."
My heart dropped to my feet. "Uh...Tom, you really don't have to."
It was as if he couldn't hear me as he brought the phone to his ear.
"Hey, man! Anna just told me the good news. Listen, would you mind going out to dinner this weekend? Yeah. That fancy Italian place downtown."
I froze with my eyes widening.
Why was Tom like this? He never listened to anything I said.
I was already angry and was opting for ways not to go to the dinner. But as the weekend rolled around, Tom stood firm that he wouldn't take no for an answer.
I took almost an hour picking out a figure-hugging black dress. I told myself I wanted to look good for my husband, but my conscience scoffed at that.
The dress was practically painted on and pushed my boobs out.
We drove in Tom's car to the restaurant. Marcus was already there, wearing a dark button-down shirt that fitted his broad shoulders.
He stood up as he saw us, shaking Tom's hand, then he turned to me, eyes twinkling as he took in my outfit.
I tried not to push my chest out, I really did. But couldn't really help it.
Something was really wrong with me, imagining pushing my boobs out and rubbing them all up in Marcus' face with my husband standing there.
"Mrs Goldberg," he said, snapping me out of my thoughts. "You look really beautiful."
Heat quickly rushed to my cheeks, hoping Tom didn't notice the energy between us.
My husband was already pulling out a chair for me, while blabbing about the menu.
The dinner started fine, as a waiter poured our wine for us.
Tom ordered appetisers too as the evening wore on.
But Tom would always be Tom. And there wouldn't be a social outing without him subtly shading me.
"So, my wife here, Anna, has been super stressed lately," He said with a condescending laugh. "That's probably why it's taking so long for her to get pregnant. Thank God, she is not barren."
My face felt hot with shame as I sneaked a look at Marcus.
Marcus's fork paused midway into his mouth. His eye turned to steel as his stare flicked to me.
Tom kept going, not bothered about the look on Marcus's face.
"I keep telling her to relax more. One of my friends' wives got pregnant once she started yoga."
I stared hard at my untouched plate, wanting the ground to swallow me whole.
Marcus set his fork down gently. "Actually, stress can affect anyone. The quality of sperm drops under pressure."
Tom blinked rapidly, clearly caught off guard. "Yeah, well.... I'm fine. I'm not the one with the problem, she is."
Marcus smiled, but it didn't reach his eyes. "Of course. It's still a team effort. It takes two people to make a baby."
His subtle comments didn't stop Tom's shades. As the dinner progressed, Tom made little digs at my cooking, saying my food tasted bland.
He even threw a jab at my body, saying I've been letting myself go lately.
Through it all, Marcus has been defending me, although not making it obvious.
Marcus quickly changed the line of conversation. Asking about me, and was actually interested in what I had to say.
His knee kept brushing mine. At first, I thought it was a mistake, but it wasn't.
His fingers grazed my arms in the guise of passing dishes.
These innocent touches made my core clench with heat.
When dinner was over, Tom happily paid for the meal, showcasing his black card.
As we all walked out, Tom suddenly stopped. "Shit! I gotta use the restroom, I'm pressed. You guys can go ahead, I'll catch up."
My body buzzed with excitement as he left us. Marcus and I walked into the cool night air towards the car park.
Getting to Tom's car, I thought he would say goodbye and leave but he didn't.
We didn't say anything to each other. He just looked at me with those blue eyes.
It happened in slow motion. One large hand chopped my face, as the other gripped my waist pulling me hard against his sculpted body.
That mouth I was staring at all night, crashed into mine. There was nothing gentle about the kiss, he was rough and dominating.
He sucked on my tongue, fucking my mouth like he was sucking on my pussy.
His hands moved everywhere, squeezing my ass and slapping it hard.
Moving his hands to my boobs, his thumb rubbed over my hard nipples poking out.
I moaned into his mouth, feeling that thick veiny length on my stomach.
I wanted more.
Desperately wanted him to push me up against the car, pull my panties to my ankles and ram that fat schlong up my tight cunt.
We were so lost in each other, we didn't even hear any sound.
"What the hell?" Tom's voice shrieked.
You may also like
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.