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Shared by my bullies 6

Author: Faithuba
last update Last Updated: 2025-08-10 18:03:49

The city lights blurred into a halo of gold and white as the wind curled around the rooftop. From up here, the noise of traffic was distant, a low hum beneath the occasional gust that caught at my hair and tugged at my clothes. The air smelled faintly of rain from earlier in the day, sharp and clean.

I didn’t know whose party it was. I’d been pulled into the elevator without seeing more than a flash of strangers in the hallway below. Cole had kept one hand lightly at the small of my back the whole ride up, his touch deceptively casual, while Damien stood at my side with that same unreadable smirk. Rylan had stayed behind us, silent, watching.

We’d stepped out onto the rooftop terrace into a pocket of warmth and music. Strings of lights stretched above the space, casting a soft amber glow over scattered groups of people talking in low voices. Somewhere inside, a playlist murmured through hidden speakers.

But I barely noticed any of it before Damien was steering me toward the far corner
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  • Forbidden Affairs    Married to my stepmom 4

    The silence in her house told me everything.No lights on. No soft music. No wine glass on the counter. No Clarissa waiting with parted lips and trembling thighs.She was hiding.I kicked the door shut behind me and dropped my keys on the console.“Clarissa,” I called out, voice low. Calm. Dangerous.No answer.I walked through the house slow, listening. The place reeked of denial. She’d tried to wash me off the walls, off her body. But I could still smell myself in the air. On the couch. In her sheets.I found her in the bathroom. The door was cracked. Steam curled out like smoke from a gun barrel.She was in the tub.Eyes closed. Face turned to the ceiling. Bubbles covered her chest, but not the bruises I left on her hips. Her legs were bent. One arm rested on the rim of the tub. The other held a glass of scotch.When she opened her eyes, she didn’t flinch.“You’re not supposed to be here,” she said, voice quiet.“You said that last time,” I replied.“I meant it this time.”I steppe

  • Forbidden Affairs    Married to my stepmom 3

    I watched the footage again while lying in bed. The screen cast a glow over my face, her body flickering in 4K beneath my fingertips.Clarissa’s face, mouth slack, hair stuck to her cheeks with sweat.Her voice, raw and unfiltered.“Harder… don’t stop… oh God, please—”I had filmed it during our last session. She hadn’t known. Or maybe she had. Maybe she wanted to be caught in pixels and sin.I watched the part where she came. Again. Her hips jerked, her back arched, her legs shook.I didn’t touch myself. Just watched.There was something better than release. Something colder and more addictive.Control.The next morning, I showed up at her yoga studio. She ran a boutique one downtown, sleek and glass-walled with white drapes and candles lit near the entrance. She taught three classes a week, mostly bored housewives and wine moms looking for a stretch and validation.She was behind the counter when I walked in.Her face drained of color the moment she saw me.“You can’t be here,” she

  • Forbidden Affairs    Married my stepmom 2

    The sun was cruel that morning. I watched it pour through the windshield as I parked in front of her house. The white one with the rose bushes. Too clean. Too quiet. The kind of house women like her pretended they belonged in.She hadn’t texted me.Not once since the wedding.But she hadn’t said no either.And I wasn’t the kind of man who waited for permission.I killed the engine and got out, carrying the small black box wrapped in gold ribbon. A gift. An excuse. She wouldn’t ask for one, but I knew she’d open the door.The ring camera blinked red as I rang the bell.It only took a few seconds.Clarissa opened the door barefoot in a cream silk robe that barely clung to her shoulders. No makeup. Wet hair. Her legs bare and smooth. Her eyes flicked to the box in my hand, then back to my face.“You’re not supposed to be here,” she said.“Your husband around?” I asked.“He’s out. Golf.”I stepped inside without waiting for an invitation. The air smelled like roses and coffee. She closed

  • Forbidden Affairs    Married to my stepmom 1

    The champagne was warm. The music too loud. Everyone looked too rich, too fake, too happy. I stood by the bar, tugging at the collar of my black suit, already regretting showing up.The only reason I came was to see the woman who used to be my stepmom.Clarissa.She hadn’t raised me exactly, but she’d lived in my father’s house for three years. I was seventeen when he married her. She was twenty-nine then. Too young to be called mom, too beautiful to be ignored. She moved like something out of a forbidden fantasy—always barefoot on cold marble, always dripping water from her morning showers, always sighing through half-open doors.She was my obsession before I even knew what that word meant.Now I was twenty-six. And today… she was getting married again.To someone else.And I wanted to see her. I wanted to see what kind of man could hold her down after everything she’d taught me to ache for in silence.Then the music shifted.Heads turned.And she walked in.I froze mid-sip. The flut

  • Forbidden Affairs    Down on her knees 2

    She told herself she wouldn’t go back.That it had been a moment of madness, an act of surrender she could tuck into the back of her memory like a shameful secret.But shame has a scent. It lingers under the tongue, behind the ears, between the legs.And it made her ache.Two days later, she got the call.A woman’s voice on the other end. Professional. Polite.“Mr. Voss would like you to return to clean the office space today. Eleven sharp.”Her name wasn’t mentioned. No small talk. No questions.She said yes without asking why.She knew why.⸻The penthouse was silent when she entered. Carpet softened her steps now. No marble. No echo. Just thick walls and heavy doors.She carried her bag of supplies, wore the same loose black shirt and tight leggings. She had done her hair. Worn a little gloss. Maybe he’d notice.Maybe she wanted him to.She stood in front of his office door for too long.Then opened it.He sat behind the massive black desk. Sleeves rolled. Shirt fitted snug across

  • Forbidden Affairs    Down on her knees 1

    She wasn’t supposed to touch it.It stood on its own pedestal in the gallery room, carved from jet-black stone and polished to a gleam. A woman on her knees, spine arched, mouth parted in silent surrender. The piece had no title plate, no artist signature. It was raw. Obscene. Beautiful.Her fingers hovered over the sculpture, trembling.She looked over her shoulder once.No one.The apartment was still. Quiet.The kind of quiet that made your own breath sound too loud.She reached out and touched it.Stone, but not cold.It felt alive.She ran a fingertip along the woman’s parted lips. Her thighs pressed together without her permission.“You’re not paid to touch the art.”The voice cut through the air like a blade.She jerked her hand back.He was standing in the doorway.Tall. Suited. Shirt unbuttoned at the collar. No tie. One hand in his pocket, the other holding a glass of something amber. He didn’t look surprised. Or angry.He just looked like he’d been watching her for a while.

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