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The CEO’s Office Slút (Part 6): The Lunchtime Lesson
Last Updated:
2025-11-20 20:05:29
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TABOO CRAVINGS: SHORT STEAMY STORIES OF LUST AND TEMPTATION The CEO’s Office Slút (Part 19): The Public Display
The tender moment in his bed didn't last. It was a fragile truce in a war that was constantly raging. He stiffened, his body becoming a hard, unyielding mass of muscle and bone. He pulled away from her, his face a cold, unreadable mask.“Get up,” he commanded, his voice flat, devoid of any emotion. “Get dressed. We’re going out.”She did as he asked, her body aching, her mind a chaotic mess. He had laid out a new outfit for her on the bed. It was a short, black leather dress, a second skin that was both elegant and incredibly provocative. There were no panties.He took her to a high-end restaurant, a place of hushed tones and clinking glasses. They were seated at a secluded table in the back, a private oasis in a sea of noise and conversation. He was a perfect gentleman, charming and attentive, pulling out her chair, ordering for her, engaging her in sparkling conversation. But under the table, his hand was on her thigh, his fingers tracing lazy circles on her skin, a constant, posses
TABOO CRAVINGS: SHORT STEAMY STORIES OF LUST AND TEMPTATION The CEO’s Office Slút (Part 18): The Morning After the Storm
Emma woke up slowly. It was a pleasant ache, a physical memory of the night before. She was in his bed, the sheets a tangled mess around them. He was still asleep, his breathing a low, steady rhythm beside her. She turned her head to look at him, her heart a strange, complicated mix of fear and affection. In sleep, his face was softer, the harsh lines of his mouth relaxed, the coldness in his eyes replaced by a look of peaceful vulnerability. He looked… human. And that was more terrifying than anything.She slipped out of bed, her movements slow and careful, not wanting to wake him. She grabbed his shirt from the floor and put it on, the scent of him a mix of expensive cologne, whiskey, and sex comforting, intoxicating cloud around her. She walked to the large, floor-to-ceiling window, the city just beginning to stir under a pale, pre-dawn sky. She felt like a goddess in his fortress, a queen surveying her kingdom, a feeling that was both exhilarating and deeply unsettling.She heard
TABOO CRAVINGS: SHORT STEAMY STORIES OF LUST AND TEMPTATION The CEO’s Office Slút (Part 17): The Ride Home and The Punishment
The ride home in his car was a descent into a special kind of hell. She could still feel the cool metal of the balcony railing against her skin, the memory of his brutal, public possession a fresh, thrilling scar on her soul.He didn’t speak. He just drove, his hands gripping the steering wheel, his knuckles white. He was a coiled spring of dark energy, and she knew, with a sickening certainty, that she was about to be the target of its release.They pulled into the underground garage of his building, the concrete walls echoing with the sound of the engine. He killed the engine, and the sudden silence was deafening.“Get out,” he commanded, his voice a low, dangerous growl.She did, her body trembling, her legs weak. He led her to the elevator, his hand on the small of her back, a firm, possessive grip. The elevator ride up to his penthouse was a slow, agonizing ascent. He stood behind her, his body pressed against hers, his heat a palpable force. She could feel his hard cock pressing
TABOO CRAVINGS: SHORT STEAMY STORIES OF LUST AND TEMPTATION The CEO’s Office Slút (Part 16): The Gala and The Balcony
The week leading up to the annual company gala was a masterclass in psychological warfare.Mr. Carter was relentless. He didn’t just want her body; he wanted her mind, her soul, her complete and utter capitulation. The email with the address of the most exclusive dress shop in the city was the first shot. It was an order, not a suggestion.Be there at 10 AM on Saturday. The full amount is already taken care of.She went, of course. The shop was a hushed, reverential space, a temple of high fashion. A snooty saleswoman, with a face like a carved pumpkin and a neck so long it looked painful, greeted her with a look of thinly veiled contempt.“Mr. Carter has selected a few pieces for you,” she said, her voice dripping with condescension.She led Emma to a private dressing room, where a single dress was hanging. It was the crimson silk dress from her fantasy, but it was even more stunning in person. It was a masterpiece of seduction, a weapon of mass destruction.“Try it on,” the saleswom
TABOO CRAVINGS: SHORT STEAMY STORIES OF LUST AND TEMPTATION The CEO’s Office Slút (Part 15): The Husband
The scent of Mark’s coffee,the familiar clutter of their shared life it all felt like a foreign country, a place she no longer belonged. She was a ghost in her own home, a spy in her own marriage.Mark was a blur of cheerful domesticity. He asked about her “retreat,” his eyes bright with genuine interest, and she fed him a stream of well-rehearsed lies, each one a small, sharp stab of guilt. He told her about his weekend, a boring tale of grocery shopping and a football game with his friends, and she nodded and smiled, her mind a million miles away, in a cold, sterile mansion, on her knees, on a stepladder, in a bed that wasn’t hers.That night, he tried to touch her. They were in bed, the lights off, the city lights casting a soft glow through the window. He rolled over, his hand sliding onto her hip, his touch warm, familiar, and utterly repulsive.“I missed you,” he whispered, his voice thick with sleep and desire.Emma’s entire body went rigid. A cold, sickening dread washed over
TABOO CRAVINGS: SHORT STEAMY STORIES OF LUST AND TEMPTATION The CEO’s Office Slút (Part 14): The Morning After the Night Before
Emma woke up slowly, a strange, unfamiliar warmth seeping into her bones. For the first time in weeks, she wasn’t on the floor. She was in a bed. His bed. And she wasn’t alone. An arm was draped heavily over her waist, a muscular leg was tangled with hers, and a warm, solid body was pressed against her back. For a fleeting, blissful second, she allowed herself to pretend it was Mark, that she was safe in her own bed, that the last few months had been a terrible, twisted nightmare.But then the scent hit her. Not the familiar, comforting scent of her husband’s soap, but the dark, spicy, undeniably masculine scent of Mr. Carter. Her eyes flew open, and the illusion shattered. She was in his bed. He had held her. He had been… tender. And that was more terrifying than any punishment he had ever given her.She carefully, painstakingly, began to extricate herself from his embrace, moving inch by inch, holding her breath. She was almost free when his arm tightened, pulling her back against h
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