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Addicted to Your Touch - Chapter 9

ผู้เขียน: Janne Vellamour
last update ปรับปรุงล่าสุด: 2026-03-01 02:35:39

The afternoon light came through the tall windows of Hellen’s apartment, filtered by beige linen curtains that softened the late-summer Minas Gerais sun. The bedroom was tidy for the first time in days—clean sheets, the scent of lavender mingling with his woody cologne that still lingered in the air. On the king-size bed, two large pillows propped against the headboard, a blank A4 notepad and a fine-tip black pen. Beside them, two half-empty glasses of red wine and a plate of black grapes, almo
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  • Taboo: Ties and Sins    Addicted to Your Touch - Chapter 10

    Hellen’s apartment smelled of golden garlic, fresh herbs, and anticipation. The kitchen lights were low—just the pendant lamp above the granite island and two thick candles in black iron candlesticks. The table was set for one person only: deep plate, silver cutlery, glass of red wine, napkin folded with precision. Hellen had chosen everything carefully. That night was not about a romantic dinner. It was about service. Formal. Total.Jaston arrived at 19:55, punctual as always. He wore dark jeans and a simple black t-shirt—clothes that would be removed in seconds. Hellen opened the door in a deep-red silk robe, short enough to show her thighs, the belt loosely tied, revealing the valley between her breasts. Satin black slippers on her feet. Absolute command in her eyes.“Come in,” she said, no welcome kiss. Just a nod. “Take everything off. Right here.”Jaston obeyed. Shoes by the entrance. Socks. T-shirt pulled over his head. Jeans and underwear sliding down together. He was naked in

  • Taboo: Ties and Sins    Addicted to Your Touch - Chapter 9

    The afternoon light came through the tall windows of Hellen’s apartment, filtered by beige linen curtains that softened the late-summer Minas Gerais sun. The bedroom was tidy for the first time in days—clean sheets, the scent of lavender mingling with his woody cologne that still lingered in the air. On the king-size bed, two large pillows propped against the headboard, a blank A4 notepad and a fine-tip black pen. Beside them, two half-empty glasses of red wine and a plate of black grapes, almost untouched.Hellen sat cross-legged, wearing only his white dress shirt—sleeves rolled to the elbows, the top three buttons undone, revealing the valley between her breasts. Jaston lay on his side, naked, head resting on her thigh. His cock rested semi-hard against his stomach, as if it already knew the conversation was about to heat up.She picked up the notepad and pen, wrote the title on the first line in firm, elegant handwriting:Limits, Rules, and Hungers – J & H“Let’s do this properly,

  • Taboo: Ties and Sins    Addicted to Your Touch - Chapter 8

    The previous night had left Jaston with a body heavy from pleasure and a mind light with promises. He woke early, the alarm going off at exactly six, and his first move was to bring his hand to his neck. There, just below the jawline, the skin was sensitive, bruised in a perfect coin-sized circle. The hickey Hellen had given him in the early hours—biting, sucking, licking slowly while whispering “this stays until I say take it off”—was impossible to hide without a high collar. And she had been clear: no high collar. He was to display it.Jaston stopped in front of the bathroom mirror, towel around his waist, and looked at the mark. Red in the center, purple at the edges, unmistakable. A temporary seal of possession. He felt his cock give a faint pulse just remembering her mouth there, teeth grazing lightly, tongue tracing circles until he moaned too loudly. Hellen had laughed against his skin, then whispered: “Tomorrow you’ll go to work with this. Everyone will see. And you’ll remembe

  • Taboo: Ties and Sins    Addicted to Your Touch - Chapter 7

    The afternoon was too hot for Minas Gerais in February, the still, humid air clinging to the skin like a second layer. Hellen drove with one hand on the wheel and the other drumming on the gearshift, her light cotton floral dress riding up her thighs every time she changed gears. The radio played low, an old MPB song she barely heard. Her mind was elsewhere: at the bar the night before, on the image of Jaston leaning over the counter, laughing with a curly-haired brunette in red lipstick who touched his arm as if she already had the right.She hadn’t said anything at the time. Just finished her drink, left money on the table, and walked out. But the image burned in the back of her mind—a raw, unexpected jealousy that caught her off guard. Hellen wasn’t jealous. Or at least she never had been. Not until Jaston.Her phone buzzed in the holder. A message from him.“Already left work?”She typed quickly without stopping the car.“Heading to the underground parking. 5 minutes.”“I’m waitin

  • Taboo: Ties and Sins    Addicted to Your Touch - Chapter 6

    Night had fallen heavily over Jaston’s apartment, but the air inside felt light, charged with anticipation. The lights were low—just two corner lamps cast a soft amber glow, enough to draw long shadows across the furniture and bodies. Hellen had arrived early, carrying a small black leather bag that Jaston immediately recognized as the one containing the handcuffs and blindfold. He didn’t ask what else was inside. He didn’t need to. Her look already said everything.She entered without a word. She simply closed the door behind her, slipped off her shoes in a slow, deliberate motion, and walked to the center of the room. She wore a loose black silk blouse, no bra—the hardened nipples marked the thin fabric—and a tight pencil skirt that ended just above the knees. Her loose hair fell in dark waves over her shoulders. Jaston stood near the sofa, wearing only jeans and an open shirt. His pulse quickened just seeing her like that: calm, in control, as if the entire apartment was already he

  • Taboo: Ties and Sins    Addicted to Your Touch - Chapter 5

    The room was bathed in a soft twilight, the kind of light that an autumn afternoon filtered through thin linen curtains. The sun had already passed its zenith but still insisted on slipping in, painting golden stripes across the wooden floor and the rumpled sheets. The air carried the lingering scent of everything that had happened there: fresh sweat, intense sex, the faint musk of heated skin, a trace of cold coffee from the distant kitchen. Their breaths, once ragged and urgent, now settled into a shared, almost synchronized rhythm.Hellen lay on her side, her body pressed against Jaston’s back. One of her legs was entwined with his, her arm wrapped around his waist as if to keep him from vanishing. Their skin was still warm, damp in places, marked by red imprints that would fade in a few hours—but in that moment, they felt like temporary tattoos of mutual possession. Jaston held her hand against his own chest, their fingers interlaced, his thumb tracing slow circles in her open pal

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