Used, Corrupted and Ruined (An Off-Limits Erotica Collection)

BOOK 1: BREAKING MY BEST FRIEND'S GIRLFRIEND Hurst’s POV I wanted to f**k my best friend's girlfriend. Crazy thing to admit out loud. Even crazier to keep thinking about it. Damian and I had been inseperable since the summer he got accepted into college. I still remember his mom dropping him off, and the way I couldn't tear my eyes off her cleavage until he introduced himself. “Damian Morales.” “Eli Hurst.” We shared everything back then. Food, clothes, sometimes even things that should've raised eyebrows. But one thing that remained completely off limits, were girls. Ironically, it wasn't because of some sacred bro-code or glaring red label. We simply had violently different tastes. Damian was wild. So he liked girls that fit that narrative. Dangerous curves, lustful eyes, and bodies built for sin. I, on the other hand, craved the innocent ones… or those that pretended to be either way. Because I knew what simmered underneath their fake stoicism and cracking restraint… was the same thing that hid beneath mine: A pathetic desire to abandon everything to the heat of lust. But all that went out the window when he started dating Valia, vice captain of the volleyball team. Long flawless legs padded by thick thighs that screamed anything but innocence. She wasn't a slut, but by no means was she innocent. The desperate, broken whimpers leaking through our paper-thin walls made that crystal clear. She was exactly the kind of temptation I had to have my hands on before leaving. “f**k—” The headboard slammed again. Another thrust. Another muffled curse. “Make me c*m, daddy. Please make me cum.” I’d memorized every line she fed him. Every fake-loud plea. Either she was terrible in bed, or Damian wasn’t doing it for her. With an ass like that, I was betting on the second option… And if it was the first… I could fix her. Train her. Break her open until she forgot how to fake it. My c**k throbbed painfully against my zipper. I shoved it down between my thighs, trying to strangle the ache. One more theatrical moan and I was going to barge in there and show him how it’s done. “Yo bro. You coming to watch the game tonight?” Damian appeared in my doorway minutes after the screaming stopped. His d**k was still half-hard, obscene under his loose sweats. “Not really” I leaned back on my bed. “But I bet on the Cavs to win after your advice, so you'd better come back with some good news.” He laughed, shrugged on a jacket, and left. The door clicked shut. The apartment fell quiet. I stayed there, letting stolen images flood in. Valia bent over the shower the other night, water streaming down her spine, steam curling around her curves. Getting my hands on her wasn’t a fantasy anymore. It was a countdown. I wondered if Damian would mind sharing one more thing before we parted ways. “I'm starving” I muttered under my breath, adjusting my briefs for the umpteenth time before heading towards the kitchen. I figured some leftover ice cream would kill the edge until morning. What I didn’t expect was to see Valia standing at the stove in nothing but red panties and Damian’s oversized jersey. She always did this when he wasn't around. Did she have any idea how torturous it was to restrain myself? She leaned over the sink, hunting for a sponge. The jersey rode up, exposing the lower curve of her ass with faint purple bruises blooming across one cheek like fingerprints. “Sup Valia” I yanked open the fridge. “Oh, Hi Hurst. You didn't go with Damian?” I heard her turn but kept my eyes and attention in every direction but hers. “Nah. Maybe next time.” I reached for the last yoghurt bottle. “You need anything?” Before I could grab it, she’d crouched and leaned in beside me. Her thighs were pressed loosely enough to let me imagine the rest of what hid behind those red linen panties. “Now that you mention it, some yoghurt wouldn't hurt.” We only had a bottle of that left, and just before I could reach for it, she leaned in with a careless disregard for everything next to her… …Including me. Her ass nudged back against my pulsing hot print, trapping the thick ridge of my erection between her cheeks for one filthy second. She didn't flinch. Didn't pull away. “Smells kinda off,” she murmured, twisting to check the label. Her body rocked again… slow, testing. My c**k slipped deeper into the cleft through the fabric. “Think these are still good?” My pulse hammered in my ears. I could smell her. Warm skin, faint vanilla body lotion, the ghost of s*x still clinging to her flesh. “Maybe. Not sure,” I managed. “Hmm.” She straightened, brushing another slow drag of her ass along my length. “Guess I’ll just snack on something else.” Now our kitchen was very spacious, the biggest room in the apartment actually. Yet somehow, in the middle of all that space, she bumped into me with a fairly hard thud, and the bottle exploded between our bodies. Cold, sour white liquid streaked down my shirt, soaked into my waistband, and dripped lower. “Oh, I'm so sorry!” she ran over to the sink and picked out a dry hand towel. “It's fine” I wiped a line of it off my chest, and she dabbed the rag over my core before I could refuse. “No, really. It's fine” I said. She went lower. Lower. Any further and she would… Her palm flattened over my bulge. Fingers curled gently around the outline as she slid the rag along both sides like she was polishing something delicate. “So sorry,” she whispered. “Looks like it got everywhere.” The sour yoghurt smell mixed with my own precum. Her fingertips grazed the waistband of my briefs, slipping under just enough to brush skin. “Got in here too.” She tugged lightly. “Can I… clean it up?” She didn’t even wait for permission. Her knuckles dragged along my shaft, teasing the head through damp fabric. Still, she didn't act in phased… even while I hardened underneath her touch. Maybe she actually was bad in bed. Clueless even. But then… I glanced down at her, and noticed the look on her face. Her eyes glistened with a hidden hunger I knew all too well, but it was nothing compared to smirk she barely cared enough to hide. She knew. She knew exactly what she doing. I grabbed her arm before her tips of her fingers dipped underneath the waistline. “The rag won't work down there. You’ll need something a little more… thorough.” One second. Two. Five. We just stared each other, knowing what was coming but acting oblivious... …until… “Huh” she scoffed. Suddenly, the look in her eyes changed. It was something different, something darker. She let go of my clothes. “So you can hit breaking point after all” she straightened. “I told Damian you couldn't be trusted, but he didn't believe me. This will show—” Before she could stand, I shoved her back down to her knees. She wasn't the only whose mask had suddenly dropped. “I don't care what this is. I don't care what you have to tell to Damian either.” I grabbed her jaw, forcing her mouth open with my thumb. “I need something thorough. Now open your mouth… and clean it.”