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Anna
They say desire is dangerous. I say it’s the most powerful weapon a woman can wield.
I’m Anna. Twenty-two. Young, determined, and hungry , not for love, but for power, pleasure… and control.
When I first walked into that house, I was stunned. Marble floors, glass walls, imported art from cities I only knew through I*******m. Wealth like that changes people. And I wanted to be changed.
Oumar was the man behind it all. Late thirties, early forties , honestly, I didn’t care. He had the kind of presence that makes you forget everyone else in the room. Broad shoulders. Clean jawline. Dark, focused eyes. That quiet type of dominance that doesn’t beg to be noticed , but demands it anyway.
He wasn’t married. Divorced, I think. I didn’t ask. I didn’t need to.
From the moment we shook hands, I knew what I wanted.
And I always get what I want.
At first, I played innocent. Professional. Polished. But behind every smile, I was calculating. I learned his schedule. His habits. When he worked. When he trained. When he was alone. I studied him like a masterpiece I planned to ruin.
The first crack appeared when I passed him in the hallway wearing nothing but a silk blouse, unbuttoned just enough to let gravity do its work. His eyes lingered. That was all I needed.
From there, it became a game.
One morning, I “accidentally” entered the bathroom while he was shaving. Just a towel around his hips. I let my eyes drag down his torso. I didn’t apologize. I didn’t leave. I just smirked, turned my back, and walked away slowly , hips swaying , knowing full well his eyes were still on me.
The heat between us built like static. Every room we shared crackled.
Then came the weekend , the one I’d been waiting for.
The house was quiet. Empty. Just him and me.
Midnight. I slipped into his private wing wearing a sheer black nightgown with absolutely nothing underneath. The fabric whispered across my skin as I moved down the hallway.
I didn’t knock.
– Sir, I whispered, voice trembling just enough to sound believable. Sir, please…
He stirred, blinking, sitting up in bed. The sheets fell from his chest, revealing warm skin and hard muscle. He looked at me like he wasn’t sure if this was real.
– What’s wrong?
– I had a nightmare, I lied, stepping closer. Can I stay with you tonight?
He hesitated. A beat. Two.
– Just for a little while. But keep this between us.
– Of course. Thank you.
I slid into his bed like a secret. I didn’t pull the covers over me. I wanted him to see everything.
I turned my back to him, slowly pressing myself against his body. My gown lifted, exposing my bare skin. I felt his breath change when my ass brushed his growing erection.
– I’m hot, I whispered, slipping the gown off my shoulders.
Naked now. My skin against his. I reached back and found him already hard, already wanting. My fingers wrapped around him, and he exhaled sharply. One hand slipped into his boxers. I freed him. He groaned , low, rough, hungry.
He grabbed me and crashed his mouth onto mine.
No tenderness , just fire. Hunger. His lips bruised mine. Teeth. Tongue. Possession.
His hands explored all of me , urgent, rough, desperate.
He broke the kiss, barely breathing.
– Are you protected?
– Implant, I nodded. No risks.
– Good, he growled. Because I want you raw.
He didn’t wait for permission. I didn’t need to give it. My body already had.
He flipped me onto my back and knelt between my thighs. His tongue found me , wet, open, ready. I cried out, arching. He licked like he was starved. Like I was dessert.
I came hard, shaking, clutching his head, moaning his name like a sacred curse.
But he wasn’t finished.
He lined himself up, teased me once, then slammed into me.
One brutal, perfect thrust. My scream split the silence. Pleasure and pain became one.
He fucked like a man who’d waited years. Deep, raw, relentless. His hands gripped my hips, his mouth devoured my neck, my breasts, my lips.
– Look at me, he ordered.
I did.
His eyes locked with mine as he drove into me again. And again. Every thrust a question. Every moan a demand. Every gasp a surrender.
We didn’t stop.
He took me everywhere , on the bed, up against the wall, on the leather couch beneath the skylight. I rode him until my legs gave out. He pulled my hair. Whispered filth. Made me come again and again until I was begging for air.
By morning, I was wrecked. My body ached. My skin wore his fingerprints like jewels. And I didn’t regret a single moment.
That night, everything changed.
I was no longer just the woman who worked around him.
I was his.
And he made sure I never forgot it , jewelry, designer heels, a house in my name, a business license under mine.
Luxury wrapped around lust. Power fed by pleasure.
They say seduction is a dangerous game.
I say I played it beautifully.
And I won.
LouiseThat evening, the atmosphere is subdued around the table. The plates are served, silverware clinks softly, but the silence is heavier than usual. The twins exchange knowing looks, their relaxed attitude masking an underlying tension. I sense they're hiding something, but I don't ask questions. Not yet.Thomas, their father, breaks the silence by placing his napkin beside his plate."I have to leave tomorrow morning for a business trip. An emergency to handle, I don't know yet how many days it will take."His tone is neutral, as if the information weren't particularly important. But I immediately feel the impact of this announcement. The twins relax slightly, a furtive gleam crossing their eyes. They exchange a quick glance before resuming their meal.I put down my fork and look up at Thomas."Where are you going?""To Berlin," he answers. "Nothing exciting, just meetings and a few contract signings."I nod slowly, trying to mask that feeling of unease rising within me. Thomas's
LouiseI watch them, trying to mask my distress behind a neutral mask. Yet I feel their insistent, scrutinizing gaze. They know. Maybe not everything, but they sense something.One leans against the desk, crossing his arms over his chest, a smirk on his face."You sure everything's okay? You look like you've seen a ghost."I force a laugh, light, feigned."Just a busy day, nothing more."The younger one circles my desk and leans on the edge, bending slightly toward me. His gaze is softer, but no less piercing."We can help you decompress, if you want."His voice glides over me like an involuntary caress—or voluntary, I don't know. My stomach tightens. I shake my head, forcing myself not to back away."That's sweet, but I still have work."The older one exchanges a knowing look with his brother before sitting nonchalantly on the corner of my desk."We can wait, right?"The other nods with an almost innocent smile, but I know it's an illusion. They're playing with me. Testing my limits.
LouiseThe next morning, the pale light of dawn filters through the curtains. I get up slowly, my body numb, my mind still hazy from the previous night. Thomas is still sleeping beside me, his breathing calm and steady. I watch him for a moment, trying to feel something—tenderness, warmth, comfort. But there's only emptiness.I slip out of bed, putting on a robe before going downstairs to the kitchen. The smell of coffee fills the space, familiar, comforting. The silence of the house weighs on me, heavy and suffocating. I force myself to follow the routine, to get ready for the day as if everything were fine.Thomas comes down in turn, already dressed for work. He places a kiss on my forehead before sitting at the table."Sleep well?" he asks me with a smile.I nod. One more lie.Breakfast unfolds in an almost reassuring normalcy. The sound of silverware, the few exchanges about our respective schedules—everything seems perfectly ordinary. Yet deep down, I feel like a spectator in my
Their voices still echo in my mind, their presence permeates the space like a shadow that refuses to disappear. I close my eyes, trying to push away the images that impose themselves on me. Adrien, his burning gaze, his breath charged with arrogance. Noah, more silent but just as oppressive, his whisper still hovering on my lips.My stomach twists under the weight of this intolerable confusion.I should have screamed louder. I should have fled. I should have...But I did nothing.Instead, my body responded, betrayed by uncontrollable shivers, by that fire that crawled under my skin and that I refuse to name. A dangerous fire. A forbidden fire.I shake my head with rage. No. No, I am not that woman. I cannot be that woman.With a sudden gesture, I tear off the towel that clings to my skin and hurl it into a corner of the bathroom. I want to rid myself of their hold, erase them from my flesh. I grab my robe and put it on hastily, my hands trembling. But when I lift my eyes to the mirror
LouiseBurning water flows over my skin, washing away the tension accumulated throughout the day. I close my eyes, savoring this feeling of solitude, of respite. Here, under this shower, I can finally breathe, far from their gazes, far from their whispers.But even the hot water can't free me from their hold.Adrien. His burning gaze, his breath too close, the heat of his body so near mine. And then his brother, more silent, but just as disturbing. They surround me like shadows, depriving me of any refuge.I sigh, shaking my head to chase away these dangerous thoughts. Thomas won't be home until late tonight. I'm alone. It's the perfect opportunity to regain my composure.I turn off the faucet and reach out to grab my towel... but a strange sensation runs through me.A presence.Before I can even react, the bathroom door bursts open. I freeze, my heart pounding wildly, as my eyes meet theirs.Adrien and his brother.They're there, leaning against the doorframe, their eyes fixed on me.
ThomasMy stomach knots at those words.— That has nothing to do with it. She's my wife and she's part of this family.— Not for us, his brother cuts in, his voice colder.I look at them, trying to understand this categorical rejection. Sure, they've never been close to her, but this contempt…— You never had a problem with her before, I say slowly.— Before, she knew her place, Adrien retorts with a shrug. But now…He doesn't finish his sentence, and something in his gaze makes me uneasy.— Now what? I ask, my throat dry.He simply smiles, his expression both amused and provocative.— Nothing, Dad. Just that she's not our mother, and we have no reason to play the model sons with her.His brother silently nods.I run a hand over my face, weary.— It's not about being a model son. It's about respect.— She doesn't need our respect, Adrien replies, getting up. She just needs to accept that she doesn't belong here.He turns on his heel and leaves the room, his brother following without a







