Chapter Three: You’re Going to Break for MeI thought I’d feel full for days.Turns out, I barely lasted a day and a half.He hadn’t texted. Hadn’t called. And even though I knew Julien wasn’t the type of man to beg for time or space or attention, it didn’t stop the ache between my legs from growing every hour he stayed silent.I wanted him again. I wanted the version of me I became with him.When I opened the door on Sunday evening to see him leaning in the frame—black t-shirt, jeans that hugged his thighs too well, and that tattooed arm propped casually against the side—I knew I wouldn’t last five seconds.I didn’t.“I was beginning to think you ghosted me,” I said.He didn’t smile.“I’ve been thinking about how good your throat felt.”My breath caught.He stepped inside, walked me backward by the hips, and kicked the door shut without turning around.“You swallowed like you were made for it,” he said.“I was.”That made him grin.But it vanished the moment I reached for his belt.
Chapter Two: Repeat It SlowerThe second time he came, he didn’t knock.The lock clicked open like he’d always had the key.Maybe he did. Maybe I gave it to him when I spread my legs and begged for a lesson I didn’t know I needed.I didn’t look up from the glass of wine I was sipping in the kitchen, but I heard him—his coat hitting the back of my couch, the folder tossed on the table, the way his shoes hit the floor one by one as he stepped closer.I wore a robe.I wasn’t planning to. I told myself I’d wear something normal. Something decent. But the idea of fabric sliding off under his fingers was too good to resist.Julien didn’t say a word at first.He just walked up behind me and ran his palm down the curve of my ass.“Did you practice your French?” he asked, voice smooth, low.“No.”“Why not?”“Because I wanted you to punish me for it.”The grip on my hip tightened.Then his hand came down. Hard.I gasped, biting my lip as the first sharp slap landed against my bare skin. The ro
PREMISE “Repeat after me… slowly.” After years of sterile marriage and quiet divorce, Eva just wanted to feel curious again. French lessons seemed harmless—something cultured, something soft. Until her new tutor, Julien, walked in. Young. Sharp. Intense in a way no twenty-three-year-old should be. She wanted to learn the language. He wanted to hear her beg in it. Every Wednesday at 7 PM, the door closes. And Eva’s rules collapse—word by filthy word. Chapter One: The Lesson Begins The doorbell rang exactly at seven. Not a minute before. Not a second late. I stood in front of the mirror in my silk blouse, pretending I wasn’t adjusting the buttons for him. Not too low. Not too high. Just enough to make him look. Just enough to make it seem accidental. It had started so innocently—if anything that made m
Final Chapter More Than Skin Deep I found the sketch by accident. It was tucked under a pile of tattoo stencils in Silas’s studio drawer. Faded pencil lines. Shaded curves. Charcoal smudges at the edges. But I would’ve recognized the subject anywhere. Me. Completely bare. Lying on his sheets. Eyes closed. Lips parted. Captured in one of the first moments we were ever together. My breath caught in my throat. He hadn’t shown it to me. Hadn’t even mentioned it. But he’d drawn me with such detail—such devotion—that I felt my knees go weak just staring at it. I didn’t even hear him come in. “Looking through my stuff, little thief?” I turned slowly, blushing, the sketch still in my hands. “You drew me.” His expression softened, but only
Chapter Seven Need You to Ruin MeIt started with a kiss.Not soft. Not slow.Hard. Bruising. Like he was trying to imprint the shape of his mouth into mine.I was still sore from the night before, but the ache only made me hungrier. I wasn’t just wet—I was throbbing. A raw, hot pulse that didn’t stop no matter how many times he made me come.I wanted more.I wanted everything.Silas leaned over me, shirtless, sweat still glistening from our last round. His fingers trailed from my throat to the top of my breast, teasing the skin just above my nipple.“You keep looking at me like that,” he murmured, “and I’ll put you on your knees again.”“I want you to do more than that,” I whispered.He arched a brow. “Yeah?”I nodded. “I want you to ruin me.”His eyes darkened instantly. His hand tightened around my throat—not enough to hurt, just enough to remind me who he was.“You don’t get to say that to me unless you mean it, Lana.”
Chapter Six Take Me, Everywhere The next day, I couldn’t stop touching the tattoo. It was still sore, still healing, but the ache turned me on. The line of ink just above my inner thigh felt like his breath still lingered on my skin. It wasn’t just a tattoo. It was a memory. A signature. His name without saying his name. And God, I wanted more. I was late to work. Still walking like my thighs remembered every inch of his cock. Still replaying the feel of his hands pinning me to the leather as he made me scream. But when Silas texted me that afternoon—“Dress up. No panties. Pick you up at 8.”— —I didn’t even hesitate. I shaved. I lotioned. I tried on three dresses before settling on a black one that barely hugged my ass and clung to my tits like it was begging to be ripped off. No bra. No panties. Just heels. Lip gloss. And the throb of anticipation.