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Poolside Recklessness
Last Updated:
2025-11-16 14:57:49
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Lust Behind Closed Doors Jealous Flames
The days blurred into a haze of stolen moments and whispered sins.Elena moved through the mansion like a ghost in her own life—smiling at Richard over breakfast, nodding at his endless conference calls, all while her body hummed with the memory of Adrian’s hands, his mouth, the way he’d claimed her again and again until she forgot how to breathe without him inside her.Richard noticed nothing.Or so she told herself.But Adrian noticed everything.He watched her across the dinner table with eyes that stripped her bare, his foot sliding up her calf beneath the linen cloth while Richard droned on about stock prices. He cornered her in the pantry while she reached for wine, pressing her against the shelves, fingers slipping beneath her dress to tease her through lace already soaked for him.“You’re thinking about me,” he’d murmur, nipping her earlobe. “Even when he’s talking. Even when he kisses your cheek goodnight.”And she was. God help her, she was.The jealousy started small.A fli
Lust Behind Closed Doors Poolside Recklessness
The next morning dawned with a deceptive calm, sunlight spilling across the marble floors like liquid gold. Elena woke alone in her bed, the sheets twisted around her legs, the faint ache between her thighs a constant reminder of the night before. Adrian’s scent lingered on the pillow beside her—musk and sex and something darker, something that made her stomach clench with equal parts dread and hunger.Richard was already gone, his side of the bed cold and untouched. A note on the nightstand in his precise handwriting: Early meeting. Back by lunch. Love you.She stared at the words until they blurred. Love. What a hollow sound it made now.Her phone buzzed. Pool. Ten minutes. Wear the red bikini.Adrian. Her pulse spiked. The red bikini was a relic from a long-ago vacation with Richard—tiny triangles of fabric that barely contained her curves. She hadn’t worn it in years. She should ignore him. Should delete the message, lock her door, and pretend last night had been a fever dream.
Lust Behind Closed Doors Locked Doors, Whispered Moans
The sun had barely crested the horizon when Elena’s phone buzzed on the nightstand.Richard.She stared at the screen, his name glowing like an accusation, then silenced it and rolled onto her stomach, burying her face in the pillow that still smelled of Adrian’s skin. Her body ached in places it hadn’t ached in years, sweet bruises blooming beneath the silk of her nightgown, bite marks on the inside of her thigh that throbbed every time she shifted. She should feel filthy.She should feel broken.Instead, she felt alive, electric, every nerve humming with the memory of Adrian’s mouth, his hands, the way he’d stretched her open and filled her until she forgot her own name.Another buzz.Flight lands at 7 p.m. Can’t wait to see you.Richard was coming home tonight. The thought should have doused the fire in her belly. Instead it fanned it. The clock was ticking. The mansion would no longer be their private playground. Doors would have to stay locked. Lies would have to be perfected.
Lust Behind Closed Doors The First Full Surrender
The steam from the bathtub still clung to Elena's skin like a lover's breath, thick and heavy, as she lay sprawled across the cool marble floor where Adrian had left her moments ago. Her body trembled uncontrollably, not from the chill of the tiles seeping into her bare back, but from the fire he'd ignited deep inside her—a fire that refused to be quenched, no matter how fiercely her mind screamed that this was betrayal, that this was ruin. Water dripped from her hair, pooling around her shoulders, mixing with the slick evidence of her arousal that still coated her inner thighs. She pressed her legs together, a futile attempt to stifle the throbbing ache between them, but it only heightened the sensation, making her gasp softly into the empty bathroom.How had it come to this? Just minutes earlier, she'd been soaking in lavender-scented water, trying to wash away the sins of the previous nights—the teasing glances, the midnight kitchen encounter, the stolen kiss in her bedroom that ha
Lust Behind Closed Doors Crossing the Line
Elena hadn’t been able to sleep all night. The echoes of Adrian’s touch, the memory of his lips brushing so close to hers, the dangerous heat in his eyes—it all haunted her in the dark silence of her bedroom. Richard had been snoring beside her, oblivious, while she lay wide awake, torn between guilt and longing.She told herself again and again that it had to stop. Whatever this was, whatever dangerous game they had begun to play—it needed to end before it consumed her. He was her stepson, her husband’s child. She was supposed to be the respectable wife, the perfect stepmother.But then morning came, and she found herself in the kitchen, robe tied loosely around her waist, and there he was.Adrian. Leaning against the counter like he owned the place, shirtless, a glass of juice in his hand. His dark hair was damp from the shower, and droplets of water slid down his chest, disappearing into the waistband of his sweatpants.Her throat went dry.“Morning,” he drawled, his lips curving i
Lust Behind Closed Doors Crossing the Line
The mansion was too quiet.Elena had spent the day scrubbing counters, rearranging bookshelves, folding already-folded clothes—anything to keep herself busy. Anything to avoid thinking about the kiss. About his hands pinning her to the wall. About the way her body burned every time he came too close.But it was useless.No matter how hard she tried, Adrian lingered in her thoughts like a shadow she couldn’t escape. She hated herself for it. She hated the way her pulse spiked at the thought of him. She hated the way her thighs pressed together at night, seeking a relief she couldn’t admit to.By evening, she was exhausted, drained from fighting a battle she was losing inside her own skin.She decided to soak in the bathtub. Hot water. Lavender oil. Silence. Maybe that would help.Steam curled around the marble bathroom, fogging the mirror. Elena slid into the water, letting it envelop her, her head tipping back against the edge. She closed her eyes, willing herself to forget, if only f
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