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BOOK 3: Chapter 53: Possessed
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2025-08-03 06:44:45
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Craving Grace (An Extremely Hot Taboo Erotica Collection) BOOK 5: CHAPTER 8: The First Rule
BOOK 5: CHAPTER 8: The First RuleHe doesn’t pull away.Not immediately.Instead, he stays inside me, his weight braced over mine, breath warming the side of my neck in slow, steady drifts. His chest rises and falls against my ribs, each movement syncing closer and closer to my own until it feels like our hearts might be beating in rhythm. The air between us is thick—humid with the afterglow, scented with sweat and skin and something else I can’t quite name.His hand traces lazy, almost absent-minded patterns along the side of my ribcage, the pads of his fingers brushing so lightly I’m not sure if he’s aware he’s doing it. The other hand is buried in my hair, palm cupping the back of my head as though it’s instinct to hold me there, protect me there. I can feel the subtle strength in the way he cradles my skull—firm enough to keep me anchored, gentle enough that I feel impossibly breakable in his hands.I almost say it.Almost let the words slip between us in the quiet.This feels lik
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BOOK 5: CHAPTER 7: His ApartmentHe made me come in an elevator.Silently.While standing beside another executive.And then he walked away like it hadn’t happened at all.No smirk. No lingering glance. Just a polite nod to the woman who had no idea I’d just been undone two feet from her, and then he was gone, vanishing into the polished marble of the lobby like nothing had touched him—not even me.I wasn’t prepared for what that would do to me.I didn’t plan this.Not exactly.But sometime after 9:00 p.m., as I stood barefoot in front of my closet, staring at hangers without really seeing them, I realized two things:One, I wasn’t going to sleep.Two, I didn’t want to be alone.Sleep had abandoned me hours ago. Every time I closed my eyes, I saw flashes of the elevator: the mirror’s reflection, the slight curl of his fingers inside me, the sound of my own restrained breathing as Rachel discussed quarterly reports like I wasn’t coming apart at the seams.My pulse was still misbehaving
Craving Grace (An Extremely Hot Taboo Erotica Collection) BOOK 5: CHAPTER 6: The Elevator Ride
BOOK 5: CHAPTER 6: The Elevator RideHis fingers press firmly between my legs, the heat of his touch searing through the thin barrier of my panties.Still wet.“Good girl,” he murmurs, the words slow, deliberate, each syllable curling like smoke in the air between us.I barely have time to catch my breath before he steps back, the warmth of his body pulling away as if he’s simply decided the moment is over. He adjusts his cuffs with precise movements, his expression carved into unreadable composure—as though he hasn’t just reached between my thighs in the middle of an empty boardroom.He glances toward the hallway. “Elevator. Now.”The authority in his voice doesn’t invite questions. It isn’t loud, but it’s absolute.I obey.The executive elevator waits at the end of the corridor, its brushed steel doors gleaming under the recessed lighting. Inside, the space is sleek and silent, all mirror panels and cool metal. I step in first, my heels clicking against the polished floor, my pulse
Craving Grace (An Extremely Hot Taboo Erotica Collection) BOOK 5: CHAPTER 5: The Morning Meeting
BOOK 5: CHAPTER 5: The Morning Meeting“I hope you don’t have plans tomorrow morning,” he whispers, his voice so close to my ear that the heat of his breath skims my skin.“Why?” I ask, my own voice softer than I intend, though the curiosity laced in it is impossible to hide.“Because you’re not going home.”But I do go home.Eventually.Only after he takes me again in that same chair—this time slower, with a deliberate control that feels almost reverent. His hands guide me, his movements measured, drawing out every shiver, every gasp, every surrender. Only after he walks me to the private elevator, his palm resting lightly at the small of my back as though we’re stepping out into the night as lovers, not two people tangled in a dangerous arrangement. Only after I stumble into a cab sometime after 2 a.m., still tasting him, still aching from him, still carrying the bruises along my neck like secret fingerprints meant only for me. My thighs throb from the hours before, and the silence
Craving Grace (An Extremely Hot Taboo Erotica Collection) BOOK 5: Chapter 4: Over the Desk
BOOK 5: Chapter 4: Over the DeskHe stands behind me, close enough that I can feel the heat radiating from his body, the air between us thick with something dangerous. His belt is unbuckling—slowly, deliberately—each metallic click a sharp warning and an unspoken promise.“Hands on the desk,” he orders, his voice a low command that curls through me like smoke.I obey before I can think better of it.The sound comes next—leather sliding through the loops of his trousers, soft yet somehow deafening. It’s deliberate, almost taunting. The whisper of it sends a shiver straight down my spine. I don’t dare turn around. I know his eyes would be on me—assessing, stripping me bare without even touching me.My palms meet the cool mahogany surface. The desk feels solid beneath me, smooth and immaculate, like everything else in Mr. Ashford’s carefully curated world—controlled, precise, and uncompromising. It smells faintly of polished wood and the faint lingering scent of his cologne, an intoxicat
Craving Grace (An Extremely Hot Taboo Erotica Collection) BOOK 5: Chapter 3: In His Office
BOOK 5: Chapter 3: In His Office“You’re not going back to your desk,” he says, his voice low and final, like a verdict already written.“You’re coming to mine.”He doesn’t wait for my answer. Doesn’t ask twice.Mr. Ashford takes my wrist—not roughly, not tenderly either. Just... certain. Like my body now belongs wherever he leads it. His grip is warm, firm, and utterly unapologetic. There’s no room for hesitation in him, no indecision. Just purpose.And I follow. Half-numb. Heat thrumming between my thighs. The front of my blouse still open, clinging damply to the curves of my arms. My bra slightly askew. Hair a mess. Lipstick probably smeared. I should feel humiliated. Or frightened. Or both.Instead, I feel like I’m floating. Like I’ve slipped out of reality and into some dangerous dream where logic doesn’t exist. Where only desire does.He guides me past the conference table—past the dark rows of cubicles, all empty at this hour—past the silence of the office like a cathedral afte
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