เข้าสู่ระบบแชร์
Touching my Patient
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2025-07-20 15:50:05
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Forbidden Affairs Banged 5
The fifth night began at moonrise.They did not carry her this time. Amara walked.Naked, collared, skin still faintly bruised from the previous nights, she descended the grand staircase of the villa flanked by the four men who now owned every breath she took. Torches had been extinguished. Only a single path of black candles led through the corridors to a pair of doors she had never seen open.Beyond them lay the viewing gallery.A circular room of smoked glass and dark wood. One entire wall was a window (one-way, floor to ceiling) looking down into a sunken chamber lit by a single chandelier of black iron. In the center of that chamber hung a web of leather straps and chains suspended from the ceiling: a harness designed to hold a body in perfect, helpless display.A dozen chairs faced the glass. Masked figures already sat in half of them (silent, elegant, powerful). Allies. Rivals. Collectors who had bid against Asher at the auction and lost. Tonight they were guests, allowed to wa
Forbidden Affairs Banged 4
They carried her down before sunset.No blindfold this time. Asher wanted her to see every step of the descent.A narrow stone staircase spiralled deep beneath the villa, lit only by torches set in iron sconces that hissed with pine resin. The air grew warmer with each turn, thick with the scent of melted beeswax and something darker (myrrh, copper, sex). Amara walked naked between Asher and Cassian, wrists bound behind her back with soft crimson cord. Rowan and Silas followed, silent, their bare feet soundless on the worn steps.At the bottom, a single obsidian door waited. No handle. Asher pressed his palm to the center. Ancient gears ground somewhere inside the wall, and the door swung inward on hidden hinges.The chamber beyond stole her breath.It was vast, circular, carved from black volcanic glass that drank the torchlight. In the center stood a waist-high altar of the same stone, polished until it reflected like a dark mirror. Runes had been etched around its edges and filled
Forbidden Affairs Banged 3
The moon hung low and bloated over the estate, the color of old bone. Every window in the villa blazed with light, but the true celebration spilled outside into the gardens. A labyrinth of twelve-foot yew hedges had been groomed for one night only, then laced with lanterns that glowed crimson behind black glass. Music drifted through the corridors: low, pulsing drums and the wet throb of cello strings that sounded almost like a heartbeat.Amara stood at the entrance to the maze wearing nothing but a thin silk gown the color of spilled wine. The fabric clung to every curve, nipples dark and visible beneath it, hem brushing mid-thigh. A black velvet half-mask covered the top of her face; the rest of her was bare. Around her throat, Asher had fastened a narrow leather collar with a single silver ring.He adjusted the ring now with one finger, tilting her chin up.“Rules are simple,” he said, voice velvet and steel. “You run. They hunt. When you are caught, you yield. No safe words tonigh
Forbidden Affairs Banged 2
The drive took less than twenty minutes, but Amara lost all sense of time inside the windowless van. Her wrists were bound in front of her with soft leather cuffs, a blindfold of thick black satin over her eyes. The only thing she wore was a man’s silk shirt, Asher’s, unbuttoned and hanging open so that every turn pressed the fabric against her sensitive nipples. Between her thighs she was still swollen and slick from the night before, a constant reminder that she no longer belonged to herself.When the engine cut off, the blindfold was tugged free.She stood on a gravel courtyard lit by torches. A cliff dropped away behind her to a black sea that hissed against rocks far below. Ahead rose the villa: pale stone, arched windows glowing amber, bougainvillea bleeding purple across the walls. It looked like something built for gods who had forgotten mercy.Asher took her elbow. “Walk.”He guided her through a vaulted entrance hall where the air smelled of salt and jasmine. No servants app
Forbidden Affairs Banged by the Pack 1
The air in the old opera house tasted of candle smoke and old money. Beneath the ruined velvet seats and peeling gold leaf, a single chandelier had been lowered to cast a pool of light over a makeshift stage. No music played. Only the low murmur of masked bidders and the occasional clink of crystal passed between gloved hands.Amara had not meant to be here.She had followed a lead on a lost Caravaggio sketch, nothing more. A whispered name in a conservation lab, a false panel in a forgotten gallery, a narrow staircase that ended in this hidden theater. By the time she realized the door had locked behind her, a black silk hood had already dropped over her head. Rough hands stripped away her coat, her phone, her identification. When the hood came off again, she stood barefoot on cold marble in nothing but the thin linen dress she had worn to work.The auctioneer never gave his name. He simply lifted a hand and began.“Lot nineteen. Untouched. Twenty-four years old. No debts, no family,
Forbidden Affairs Shared by the Alphas 5
She was halfway down the gravel drive when the headlights pinned her in place.The black Maybach rolled to a silent stop ten feet away. Viktor stepped out alone, no driver, no Luka, no guards. Just him in a charcoal overcoat, collar turned up against the wind whipping off the ocean. The moon hung low and bloated over the water, turning the world silver and merciless.Isabella did not run. She stood barefoot on the cold stones, wearing nothing but his shirt and the marks he had put on her skin, duffel bag slung over one shoulder like a refugee.Viktor looked at the bag, then at her face.“You are leaving in that?” His voice carried the same calm authority it always did, but something underneath it cracked.“I kept my part,” she said. “Seven nights. You kept yours until you didn’t. We’re done.”He took one step closer. “I burned the Kozlov file an hour ago. Every copy. The sale is dead.”She laughed, sharp and ugly. “Forgive me if I don’t trust the man who photographed me unconscious an
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