Wet Desires:{Erotica Collection}

| CHLOE’S POV |

My bathroom was filled with steam, making the air thick and warm.

I stood before the full-length mirror, naked, my skin still damp from the shower. Beads of water slid down my body as the steam lifted, the fog slowly retreating from the glass and revealing me piece by piece.

I brought my fingers up to my upper chest and traced the tattoos, lingering over the intricate lines, a small smile curving my lips.

Then I let my gaze wander over the rest of my body, tracing every tattoo and every surgical mark, each one a reminder of the enhancements I had made.

My breasts, my hips, and my *ss had all been done with one purpose in mind—to catch Josh’s attention.

Yet no matter how much effort I poured into myself, he never seemed to notice me the way I wanted.

My right arm was a full sleeve of tattoos, a tapestry of everything I thought Josh would love. My skin had become more than just skin, it had become a shrine to him.

Tattoos also climbed up the front of my chest, delicate chains and flowing script, each one carefully placed and chosen with Josh in mind, trailing up toward my neck as if to draw his eyes to me.

Beneath my breasts, along the soft curve of my ribcage, more designs sprawled across my skin, his initials hidden within the delicate swirls. But they were nothing compared to the larger designs, which were my biggest secret.

I turned my back to the mirror and looked over my shoulder.

There it was.

A massive tattoo of Josh’s face stared back at me, stretched across my back from shoulder to shoulder. Every detail was there, every line and shadow etched into my skin, as if Josh were watching me even now.

The tattoo came from a photo I took of Josh laughing two years ago, his eyes crinkled, his smile perfect.

The tattoo artist had captured it perfectly.

And lower, on the curve of each of my *ss cheeks, his full name was written in bold, black letters: JOSH on the left, WEST on the right

I know I’m obsessed.

There was no softer word, no gentle way to describe the way he consumed my thoughts, the way every part of me existed for him alone.

I had been in love with Josh long before Stacy, my cousin, even knew he existed. I saw him first. I felt that sudden jolt in my chest that told me he was the man for me.

For years, I imagined our life together. I would lie in bed at night and picture him beside me, his weight pressing into the mattress, his arm curling around me.

I dreamed of our bodies tangled together, the heat of his skin pressed against mine, his hands gripping me, sometimes hard and rough, sometimes slow and lingering.

In my fantasies, Josh f*ck*d me until I was trembling, my nails digging into his back, my breath breaking into gasps. And every time, I imagined myself moaning his name loud again and again, until I came undone beneath him, a trembling mess he had completely claimed.

I planned our wedding in my head and even picked out the names for our children. It felt real to me, like a movie playing on a loop behind my eyes that only I could see.

Then Stacy, my cousin and best friend since childhood, met Josh. She gushed about this incredible new guy she had just fallen for, and the moment she said his name, my whole world shattered.

I couldn’t tell her I was in love with Josh. How could I? Maybe it was fear, or a lack of courage, or maybe I simply did not want to ruin my cousin’s happiness. I still do not know.

So I smiled, nodded, and listened. I even helped Stacy pick out her dress for her first date with Josh, each suggestion and laugh tearing a little piece of me apart.

Every word she spoke and every excited glance she cast in Josh’s direction, whenever I was around, felt like a knife piercing through my heart.

And now, next week, Stacy and Josh are getting married.

When Stacy told me, I didn’t cry. I couldn’t. But I was stunned because they had only been dating for seven months.

Today was Stacy’s bridal shower.

The music was probably already thumping at her house, laughter spilling into every corner as her friends squealed over her and congratulated her.

I could imagine her now, perfectly dressed, smiling and radiant, soaking up all the attention.

All for Josh.

For the man whose face and name was permanently written on my skin, whose presence haunted my every thought and every heartbeat.

I let out a sigh and walked into my bedroom to get ready.

The theme for Stacy’s bridal shower was "pink dream," so I slipped into the short, silky pink negligee I’d bought just for this.

It was tight, hugging every curve, tracing the dip of my waist, revealing the swell of my breasts and my thighs.

I applied my makeup carefully, creating smoky eyes and applying dark red lipstick. I wanted to look perfect, not just for Stacy, not just for the party, but most of all for later, for Josh.

Tonight, after the bridal shower ended, I would see him. The thought made my heart race, anticipation building with each passing second.

I took one last glance at my reflection in the bedroom mirror. The soft pink fabric of my dress stood out against the dark tattoos sprawled across my arm, neck and chest.

If I turned just right, the tattoo of Josh’s face would peek through the thin material. I lifted the pink silk robe from my bed and slipped it on, the soft, fluffy fabric brushing over me.

A thrill shot through me, dark and secret, an intoxicating warmth that made my pulse race. It felt as if I carried Josh with me, every inch of him hidden beneath my dress, his silent presence accompanying me into Stacy’s bridal shower.

I walked over to my walk-in wardrobe and picked out a pink purse and pink heels to match my outfit. I slipped on the heels, grabbed the purse, and headed out to my car.

The drive to Stacy’s house felt both endlessly long, yet fleeting, each red light and turn making my heart beat faster, a relentless throb in my chest.

The music hit me the moment I arrived at Stacy’s house, loud and pulsing, the bass vibrating through the driveway and into my bones. I parked the car and took a steadying breath before stepping out.

I smoothed my dress, put on the fake smile I had perfected over years, and walked up to the door, then stepped inside.

Inside, the sitting room was packed with women in pink, laughing and holding glasses of champagne.

Stacy stood at the center in a white negligee with a glittering tiara on her head that read ‘Bride-to-Be.’

I wasn’t happy for her. I couldn’t lie to myself. How could I, when she had taken the man I loved and was now going to marry him?

Stacy turned her head, spotted me, and let out a delighted squeal. She rushed across the room and wrapped me in a tight hug.

“You made it! I love your dress!” she exclaimed, her eyes sparkling with excitement.

"Wouldn't miss it for the world," I said, my voice sounding strange in my own ears.

I hugged stacy back, feeling the thin strap of her own white negligee. "Congratulations, Stacy. For the hundredth time this week."

Stacy laughed, her face glowing with happiness. "I know, I can't believe it! Next week, I'll officially be Mrs. West!"

Her words hit me like a punch, but I kept smiling. “It’s amazing.”

| CHLOE’S POV |

Amazing? No. It was infuriating, repulsive, and maddening all at once. My chest tightened as I fought to hold the mask of delight in place, pretending to be happy for Stacy while concealing the swirl of anger and rising hatred boiling inside me.

I pulled away from Stacy, forcing a fake smile onto my face.

Stacy slipped her hand into mine and tugged gently.

“Let’s join the party,” she said, her face glowing with excitement.

She pulled me into the center of the room, where everyone had gathered. We played a few games, laughed with the crowd, but deep down, I felt detached.

Time passed quickly, and eventually, exhaustion caught up with me.

I moved to one of the couches and sank into its cushions, trying to block out the lively music, chatter and laughter swirling around me.

The champagne glass in my hand felt cold and slick, more of a prop than a drink.

After a few minutes, a woman in a floppy pink hat sat down besid