StoriesByTroy

By the time Calvin and I got back to the estate, my hair was only slightly less of a mess and Calvin’s smirk still hadn’t faded. He walked like a man who just got his dick sucked on a golf cart; slow, loose, satisfied. I, on the other hand, had wiped my mouth three times and still wasn’t sure if I could speak without the taste of his cock creeping up the back of my throat. My stomach was a tight knot of nerves and heat. I could still feel his cum sliding down my throat, clinging to the back

I know right. Calvin is YUM

Sorry it took me a while to update here. I know it has been a long gap, and I appreciate your patience. I would strongly suggest reading the story from the beginning again, since it has been spread out over a few months and a lot of details build on earlier parts. I have now completed the entire story, and it does have a clear, definitive ending. Updates will be much more frequent from here on. Thank you for sticking with it and for all the support.

Min was already dressed when I came out of the bathroom. Black pants, cute white tee with an oversized blazer, sleeves pushed up to the elbows, hair slick and perfect like he’d walked off a Seoul fashion week runway. He was leaning against the kitchen counter, sipping something fizzy, scrolling through his phone like the party wasn’t even worth thinking about. “Is Theo coming?” I asked, pretending like I wasn’t fishing. My shirt was still clinging to me from steam, and I was holding tw

Now that we were alone, no groomsmen nearby, no teasing voices echoing across the green; I could finally hear how hard I was breathing. The tree gave us shade, the slope of the hill gave us privacy. The cart sat idling in the shade beside the tree, and Calvin had this look on his face again. That look like he was about to ruin me. He walked backward, casual as ever, and dropped into the driver’s seat. Legs spread wide, tattoos stretched across his forearms, the navy blue polo clin

I still haven't planned Season 3 yet. Will start working on Season 3 soon. So, I appreciate the input!!!

I woke up sticky. My underwear clung to me, the fabric damp and crusted in places; a clear reminder of everything Calvin had done to me last night. Everything he’d made me do. I hadn’t even gotten up to clean. Just collapsed after he turned away, aching and half-hard and buzzing with whatever the hell that had been. A message from Calvin lit up the screen, timestamped half an hour ago. Mase-boy, you slept in late, stop dreaming about me, meet me at the country club. I blinked

Dylan's skin was hot under my fingers. That was the first thing I noticed. Not the way Dylan’s pecs strained as I peeled off his sweat-slick compression shirt. Not the way his abs flexed when I pulled the damp fabric over his head. Not even the way his eyes never left mine. Just the heat of his skin. Alive. Real. Familiar. As the shirt finally came off, time slowed for a beat. His bare chest was slick with sweat, every line of muscle catching the studio light like it was sculpted just

And just when I think I can’t take another second, he turns. He looks straight at me. Right at my window. A slow, deliberate smirk curls across his lips like he’s proud of what he’s doing. Like this whole thing.....her bent over, the rough pace, the way her tits bounce with every thrust.....is for me. He holds my gaze. Doesn’t slow down. Just keeps fucking her. I hate him. I hate that I’m still hard. I hate that my mouth waters. I hate the way my stomach flips because I

“Masey boy,” Calvin said again, drying his hair with the towel. “You find your bag?” I nodded, still gripping the blanket like it could hide the very obvious hard-on in my briefs. “Yeah. The staff already brought it up,” I muttered, not trusting myself to say more. My eyes flicked down once more before I could stop them. His cock was still swinging gently in those black trunks, heavy and outlined like it was half-awake and didn’t care who saw. I tried not to stare. Failed miserably. Ca

Earlier today, Dylan had texted me. He was inviting me to his fitness shoot; some campaign with a protein brand that apparently needed a hot personal trainer to sell tubs of vanilla-flavored muscle dust. I stared at the message for maybe two minutes. Tops. Then I replied: Sure. I’ll be there. I didn’t overthink it. I didn’t even let myself think. Because if I had, I might’ve remembered how Elliot kissed me last night. How he held me after. How he called me mon amour and

Dylan's fingers tightened around my jaw. “Keep looking at me,” he whispered. “I want you to see who’s fucking you.” I did. I watched every second of it. His thrusts grew rougher, deeper, perfectly angled to make my back arch and my toes curl. He gripped my thighs tighter, driving into me with full, unrelenting power like he was trying to fuck something out of me. Maybe my guilt. Maybe my memory of Elliot’s soft hands and gentler hips. Maybe the part of me that still didn’t know what I

Calvin was already waiting for me in the hallway in that deep blue shirt from earlier, sleeves pushed up, collar open just enough to draw the eye. The tattoos along his forearms looked darker against the crisp fabric, like the ink itself had thickened since this morning. He leaned against the doorframe with one arm braced high, the other casually resting on his thighs. His watch caught the light. His smirk didn’t move. “You coming, Pretty Boy? Or just standing there thinking about it?”

I shouldn’t have knocked on Dylan's door. It was late. Not midnight, but late enough that it counted. I could’ve gone home. Could’ve taken a shower. Slept. Pretended I was a normal person who hadn’t just had slow, tender, eye-contact sex with a Frenchman who called me mon amour. But no. I was here. Standing outside Dylan’s apartment like I hadn’t spent the last two hours getting my brains blown out by Elliot. The door opened fast. He didn’t say anything. Just stood there, shi

A forbidden, slow-burn wedding saga about a mouthy younger brother and the man he was never supposed to want.