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Elsa Strokes

Auteur: Kiss K
last update Date de publication: 2026-10-27 20:56:14

**

**Liam’s POV**

“Get lost. You will hurt your dad.”

My mother’s voice shook, but the order was still sharp. She stood between me and the bed as if my presence alone was a threat. The broken window let in a thin current of cold morning air. Glass glittered on the floor in sharp, scattered pieces. The nurses hovered near the monitors, uncertain who held authority in the room after the chaos of the attack and the accusations.

“I’m fine.”

The words came from the bed — thin, strained, but cle
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  • Payback on His Twin Bed   Strange Liam

    ****Leo’s POV**The company site had been exactly what the file described — half-finished glass, quiet offices, nothing that required more than an hour of walking and nodding. Liam’s father asked me two short questions about the upper floors. I answered in the man’s own clipped cadence, smiled the small, careful smile I had practiced in mirrors for years, and drove back to the mansion with the folder on the passenger seat. The real Liam’s residual warmth had already left the fabric of the shirt. The performance had not.For years I had been trained to watch Liam Hale the way a shadow watches the body that casts it.Lord Dargrasingh had called me the doppelgänger out loud the first time he showed me the photographs. I believed him. I was pure Indian blood and patience. Liam was a California-spoiled son with too much quiet pride and too little awareness of the cage around him. I had followed him since his college days — the same campus paths, the same late libraries, the same rooftop w

  • Payback on His Twin Bed   **: Replacement**

    **Liam’s POV**The order came at breakfast.My father sat at the head of the long table in the sunroom, the Italian security arranged behind him like a silent wall. Sunlight cut across the polished surface and the untouched plates. Lucas stood near the far windows with his phone already in his hand, the same restless energy he had carried since the hospital. Yasmeen and Beatrice remained by the sideboard. My mother’s absence upstairs felt louder than any of the voices in the room — the locked suite, the ignored shouting, the sudden rearrangement of power that still had no explanation.“Effective immediately,” my father said, voice clear and cold, “Lucas Hale is disowned. He will no longer carry this family’s authority, access, or protection.”The words landed like a blade across the table.Before anyone could react he turned his head slightly toward the head of security.“Bring my wife.”Two of the Italian men left at once. The silence that followed was thick enough to choke on. Lucas

  • Payback on His Twin Bed   Count every stroke

    **Yasmeen’s POV**Neither of us breathed.Mr. Hale’s presence on the other side of the door pressed against the room like a physical weight. Liam’s hand was still locked around my thigh. My heart slammed so hard I was certain it could be heard through the wood. For three endless seconds there was only silence.Then Liam’s voice came out steady, almost casual.“I’m here. Give me a minute.”Footsteps shifted outside. A soft, acknowledging sound. Then the slow roll of wheelchair wheels moving a short distance down the corridor — not fully leaving, but no longer directly against the door. The danger had not disappeared. It had only stepped back.Liam looked at me.The hunger had not left his eyes. He released my thigh only long enough to reach up and cover my mouth with his palm. The message was clear. I nodded once against his hand. He settled over me fully, the weight of his body pressing me into the mattress, and guided himself to my entrance with his free hand.He pushed in slowly.E

  • Payback on His Twin Bed   Eating

    ****Yasmeen’s POV**Liam suddenly stare at me with dizzy eyes.... his eyes were pretty so I look away shyly....he pulled my neck towards him slowly and lick my lower lip.... the next his hand had slid into my hair and his mouth was on mine. The fuck Liam is kissing me freely.... without me trying.... what the fuck has possessed him.....The kiss was nothing like the careful almost-kisses that had come before — not the test in Spain, not the brief press of lips in the pool, not the first real kiss in the library that had still carried the weight of years of denial. This was deep and open and consuming. His tongue pushed past my lips without hesitation, stroking against mine, claiming the space like he had decided the time for restraint was over. I made a small sound and he only angled his head and went deeper.He kissed me until my lungs burned. He pause until I get enough air.... then is tongue slid against mine in slow, filthy strokes again that made my toes curl against the mat

  • Payback on His Twin Bed   Doppelganger or twin

    **Liam’s POV**“That was me…”The words left my mouth in a thin whisper the moment the torn mask slipped from my fingers. The road was already empty. .mask guy or whatever name belonged to the face under the black fabric — had vanished into the industrial dark as if he had never stood there at all. My hands were shaking. The aftershock of the fight still lived in my ribs and the split at the corner of my mouth, but it was nothing compared to the cold that had settled behind my eyes.For years people had argued that Lucas and I were not true twins. We did not look alike. Our mother had always corrected them with the same calm sentence: *They are fraternal.* We shared a birthday and a last name and almost nothing else. Different builds. Different temperaments. Different ways of moving through a room. I had grown up watching the softer version of the Hale name receive the public warmth while the sharper one was left to the edges. The only thing we had ever seemed to orbit in common was t

  • Payback on His Twin Bed   The Face Under the Mask**

    **Lucas’s POV**The hideout sat behind a row of abandoned textile warehouses on the eastern edge of the city. No signage. No obvious guards at the entrance. The kind of place that existed only for people who already knew it was there. I parked two streets away and walked the rest of the distance with my collar up, the late afternoon light already thinning. The man who met me at the side door wore a plain black mask that covered everything except his eyes. He did not ask for a name. He only tilted his head and led me down a concrete stairwell into a low-ceilinged room lit by a single hanging bulb.Lord Dargrasingh was not present.The masked attendant gestured toward a metal chair. I did not sit. We spoke in short sentences — money routes that had grown quieter since the hospital, the disruption caused by the new Italian security that had appeared at the mansion overnight, the fact that my father’s sudden clarity was becoming a problem for everyone who had preferred him silent. I left

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