MasukCLARAThe heavy glass door of The Velvet Chamber swung shut behind me with a muted chime, cutting off the humid city air and replacing it with the scent of high-end silicone, leather, and vanilla-scented disinfectant. I had a strong urge to walk back out. I felt like a criminal in a place as raw as this. If anyone recognized me here, it would be scandalous. No doubt. I was Clara Huntington, the daughter of a Senator, the fiancé of a rising political star, and currently, the loneliest woman in the state. My sex life with Julian was a polite tragedy. He approached intimacy like a diplomatic briefing—efficient, sterile, and over in barely fifteen minutes.He fucked like a saint, always asking for permission and never venturing below the neck with his mouth. I didn't love him; I was just a pawn in a game of chess between our fathers to merge two dynastic political machines. But after enduring his soft love-making sessions, the saintly routine had pushed me to the edge. I needed so
NATALYA The air in the hallway felt like it had been sucked out of a vacuum the second his eyes snapped toward the door. Maximilian didn't look startled; he looked like a predator that had finally cornered its prey. Our gazes locked through the crack of the open door, and for one terrifying heartbeat, the tension between us was visible, a kind of fierce spark that ignored the boundaries of family and fidelity.I recollected my stunned-ass self and bolted.I didn't say anything. I just ran. I reached Max’s bedroom, slammed the door shut, and turned the lock with trembling hands. I collapsed against the bed, my breath coming in shallow, ragged hitches. My sweater felt scratchy and suffocating against my skin as I pulled it tighter around me, trying to shield myself from the image burned into my retinas.Maximilian. My boyfriend’s father. The cold, arrogant titan of the finance industry. He'd been in there, stroking his cock. A cock that looked far too thick and dangerous, and he'd
NATALYA The fluorescent lights of the accounting firm had spent the last eight hours carving a pounding headache on my skull. By the time I turned the key in the lock of Max’s penthouse, my shoulders were up around my ears and my feet were screaming in my designer pumps.I loved Max, and I loved this apartment—a sprawling, glass-walled penthouse worth a fortune. But tonight, the silence felt heavy. I dropped my bag on the marble island and collapsed onto the soft, dreamy sofa, my phone immediately vibrating against my thigh. It was a notification. A new message from my boyfriend.Max: Miss me yet, beautiful?😘I smiled despite the exhaustion. Max was in China for a week-long series of leadership meetings, leaving me to house-sit. Although, it was a nice trade-up from my cramped studio. His bed was the size of a county, and the shower had more nozzles than a car wash.Me: I’m a zombie, babe. I think my brain has turned into an Excel spreadsheet😩😩Max: I know a way to wake you up ;
AIDENThe atmosphere was heavy with the scent of bourbon and expensive perfume inside the private VIP lounge. It was the annual firm gala, the kind of night where professional masks often slipped,.and the hierarchy began to dissolve under the weight of too much consumption of alcohol. I sat on a armchair directly opposite Irene Gill, my tie loosened and my pulse racing. Irene wasn't just my boss. She was a well-sculptured work of art. At forty-two, she possessed a predatory sort of grace that made every man in the office mesmerized when she walked by. She was a package of curves that felt built to destroy a man’s focus. With heavy, lush breasts that always seemed to be at war with the fabric of her blouses, and hips that swung in a hypnotic manner. Tonight, she was dressed in a midnight-blue sequined dress that was so tight it looked like a second skin. Every breath she took made the fabric strain against her cleavage.For two years, I had been her technical assistant. Two years
LILYI froze, my heart hammering loudly against my ribs.The air in the bathroom was thick with the scent of Jasper's expensive cologne, sandalwood and tobacco, plus the sterile tang of bleach typical with restrooms.My back was pressed against the cold marble of the vanity, the edge of the sink digging into my spine. I felt trapped, a rabbit pinned by a wolf, but for the first time in my life, I didn't want to run. "I don't know what you're talking about," I lied, though my voice was barely a whisper, giving away just how nervous I was.Jasper laughed, a dark, rich sound that made the hair on my arms stand up. He reached out, his hand moving with agonizing slowness. He didn't grab me; he just rested his palm on the marble next to my hip, leaning in until his face was inches from mine."You're a terrible liar, Lily. Your skin is flushed, your pulse is visibly jumping in your neck, and you haven't looked away from my mouth once since I walked in here."My body stiffened at the face-sl
LILYThe bass from the main floor of The Red Hour banged against my eardrum in an unapologetic manner, letting me aware of the fact that I'd definitely be needing hearing aids in my later years. That's if I first survive this night. The air carried a thick smell of expensive gin, flavored vape clouds, and the familiar sweaty scent of hundreds of people pressed against each other.I sat on the edge of the velvet seat, nursing a gin and tonic I didn’t really want, feeling like a ghost at my own funeral. My eyes, traitorous and hungry, were fixed on the center of the booth.Leslie, my best friend since we were in pigtails, was practically draped over Jasper like a discarded silk scarf. She was drunk—the kind of messy, loose-limbed drunk that often made her loud and reckless. But still, her hands were everywhere: tangled in his dark hair, sliding under the hem of his black t-shirt, tracing the hard, corded lines of his abdomen. She was grinding against him to the sound of a techno beat







