Shameful Cravings

Shameful Cravings Sybil Reese Copyright © 2023 by Sybil Reese All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law. This is a work of fiction. All names, places, and events are products of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, places, and events is purely coincidental. Dedication To the dirty girls. The ones who work so damn hard, who try to be so damn perfect. Sometimes you just need to let go. Trigger Warning This story is about giving in to our dirtiest desires. There’s absolutely no judgment here. If you’re not into it, move along. Triggers include but are not entirely limited to: dub-con, non-con, CNC, spit play, impact play, rough sex, degradation, praise, forced proximity, orgasm denial as a punishment, and probably a few more. Enjoy. Contents 1. One 2. Two 3. Three 4. Four 5. Five 6. Six 7. Seven 8. Eight 9. Nine 10. Ten 11. Eleven 12. Twelve 13. Thirteen 14. Fourteen . Chapter 1 “M om!” My hand freezes halfway to my mouth, my toast with grape jelly begging to be eaten. A soft groan slips from my throat as I place my breakfast down with a longing look. It’s not the breakfast of champs by any means, but I’m already running late and I needed that toast in my stomach fifteen minutes ago. My husband, Mason, gives a quiet laugh, bending to press a sweet kiss to my head. “I’ll check on the girls. Finish up, sweetheart.” He smiles at me, hazel eyes shining with affection, before he sets his coffee down on the table and wanders upstairs to see what our pre-teens are yelling for this time. I love my girls, my family. I wouldn’t trade any of it. But sometimes, it’s nice to get some time away. Alone with a good book or raunchy reality TV, and I’d feel refreshed for once. The thought sends equal measures of guilt and excitement through my nerves. Mason recently got a promotion, and I’ve been doing well this year with home sales. It’s my birthday weekend, and my husband of seventeen years put together a few days away just for me. A high-end hotel, all the room service and spa treatments I could want. He’s truly spoiling me. I’m exhilarated. After my quick breakfast, I steal a couple of sips from Mason’s coffee, and then go upstairs to grab my bag. I packed last night and called the cab company to pick me up bright and early. The cab driver is already waiting outside. He’s an impatient bastard who’s been honking at me to hurry for about five minutes now. Any longer and I bet he’ll leave without me. But fuck that, I’m getting my well-earned vacation. When I turn the corner at the top of the stairs, my face breaks out into a grin. My two daughters, Ashley and Emma, and my husband are standing in the middle of the rec room, holding a sign that says Happy Birthday, Mom! My girls rush forward and hug me, squeezing so tight that I almost forget how stressed they make me sometimes. Mason winks at me, joining the hug and getting a handful of my ass. Once I’m sure I’ll crack a rib from their embrace, I pull away with a laugh, saying, “Thank you, girls. What a nice send off. I promise to miss you both just a little bit.” I give them each a cheeky grin, and they roll their eyes. Emma props a hand on her hip with a cocky little smile. “We’re going to have a blast without you. Don’t waste a second of your weekend thinking about us.” Ashley leans her head on Emma’s shoulder, sticking her tongue out at me, before saying, “Go do boring old people stuff, Mom. We’ll be just fine.” Mason chokes out a laugh, and we share a quick look. Old people stuff. The nerve of these little brats. I kiss them each on the cheek, telling them to behave over the weekend, and then the cab driver honks again. Mason grabs my bag and leads me outside. He ushers me into the cab, tipping the guy way too much for waiting on me. I shake my head with a tight smile, leaning in to kiss him, and murmur, “I would have told him to shove that horn up at his while he fucks off.” Mason shrugs, smiling easily, showing off two matching dimples. “Didn’t want to send him running off without you. You deserve this weekend, and we can’t wait another hour for someone else to come get you.” He presses his lips to mine, teasing me with his tongue until I almost don’t want to leave. The cab driver clearing his throat loudly is the only thing that breaks me away from my husband. Mason gives me this look, full of filthy promises, and I squirm in my seat. “I’ll see you later,” I say, a bit out of breath as I fight back the heat in my cheeks. Seventeen years of marriage and he still does it for me. I’m a lucky fucking girl. The cab takes off and I twist in my seat to wave to Mason, laughing when I see our girls running out to join him, waving me off like it’s a sport. I don’t know if the excitement on their faces is because I’m leaving or because they’re happy for me to have a special birthday. Maybe a mixture of both. They wouldn’t be my daughters if they were little assholes sometimes. Settling back into the worn leather seat, I let out a deep breath and do a little happy dance. It’s been a long time since I’ve