MasukShe felt the words like a small blow. He was invading her territory, questioning her most fundamental philosophy. And, in a way that infuriated her, he seemed to see something she herself refused to admit."Control isn't exhausting. It's... safe. Predictable. And predictability, in haute cuisine, is synonymous with excellence.""Excellence, perhaps." He conceded with a slight nod, but his eyes glinted with challenge. "But what about passion? Pure loss of control? The moment you abandon the recipe and just... feel? There must be a desire for it. A taste for it. Hidden right beneath all that perfection."Savanah stood motionless. Her mouth went dry. It was as if he had reached inside her chest and squeezed her heart. She felt naked, exposed. Her armor of control seemed trivial, transparent under that shadowed gaze. How could he see that? How dare he?"You're projecting," she said, her voice rougher than intended. "You're talking about your own art, not my kitchen.""Perhaps all art is t
The air inside the White Cube gallery was as cold and controlled as a fine wine cellar. A mix of expensive perfumes, woody notes, and the slight metallic smell of air conditioning formed a distinct aroma of wealth and sophistication. Spotlight beams, precise as scalpels, cut through the reigning gloom, illuminating not the people, but the objects of their veneration: the artworks. The crowd, an ecosystem of black dresses, tailored suits, and champagne flutes, murmured in low, polite tones—a hum of elegant bees around excessively expensive flowers.Savanah Phillips stood there like a misplaced piece, though no one could tell. The wine-colored silk dress was impeccable, its cut flattering her body, sculpted by years standing in kitchens. Her brown hair, pulled into an austere bun that stretched the smooth skin of her forehead, didn't allow a single strand out of place. Every detail was controlled, an armor of perfection she wore for the world. She had been invited by Marco, her cheese s
Luana“It wasn’t just the sex. It was what came after. The longing. The urgency. The fear. The wanting. The danger.”After that night between the sheets, something changed.Not just between us.It changed in me.Caio was no longer just the guy who made me come until I lost my voice.He was the only one who knew where to press on my soul.He was my addiction.My remedy.And also the poison.We started having sex with a sickening frequency.In the bathroom, in the morning.On the stairs, before bed.In the kitchen, when my mom went out to get bread.In my room, with the door locked and the TV loud.In his room, with the window open and the risk of a neighbor seeing.Every moment became an opportunity.Every silence became a muffled moan.Every “good morning” could be a “fuck me now.”The house became our secret stage for sin.And sex, the center of the universe.In our routine, the danger was constant.My mom would talk about him at the table.“Caio is so responsible…”“It’s so good tha
Luana"It wasn't just lust. It was addiction. It was necessity. It was a hunger only he could satisfy. A dirty hunger."My mother's trip was extended. A car problem, according to her. Roberto was with her, and they wouldn't be back before the weekend.And there, in that house that was only ours, with the world outside silent, we finally had a whole night—a whole one—to do everything we never had the time, space, or courage to do.There were no more barriers.Not of time. Not of body. Not of soul.In the afternoon, he sent me a message:"Today you're all mine. Don't say a word. Just obey. From the moment you enter my room, you'll forget any rule, shame, or limit. You'll be what I want. You'll give yourself to me the way I want. Understood?"I replied with a single word:"Yes."But my body said much more.Yes, with skin that was already burning.Yes, with a heart beating in my neck, as if begging for hands around it.Yes, with a pussy that was hot, pulsing, dripping before even being to
Luana"After the first time, what remained was an obsession that burned the body from within."I woke up the next day with my body sore, but satisfied. The ache in my flesh felt good. My throat was scratchy from so much moaning. And my skin seemed to have his scent trapped in every pore.There was no going back now.I was his.And more than that: I wanted to be.I went down to the kitchen in new black lace panties under an almost childish pair of shorts. A tight white tank top. Nothing innocent.Caio was sitting at the table, on his phone.He looked at me slowly, with that lazy smile of someone who had devoured me from every possible angle the night before."Did you sleep well?" he asked."Like a baby," I replied, biting the edge of the mug.And I added, without looking directly at him: "A well-fucked baby."He smiled.That damn smile.During coffee, we exchanged glances, messages, and feet under the table."I'm hard again.""Get on all fours on the table, right now.""No panties unde
Luana"I didn't plan it. I didn't provoke it. I didn't ask for it. But deep down... I wanted it. I always did."The house was silent.My mother had traveled with Roberto for two days. A couples' retreat or any other empty excuse to live a romantic illusion. I didn't ask for details. I just heard the sound of the door closing and the heavy peace that remained in the air.Me and him. Alone. With time. And with no excuses.I tried to distract myself.I read three pages of a book and realized I hadn't absorbed a single line. I scrolled on my phone for an hour, looking at pictures of people I didn't care about, as if that could numb the fire already burning inside.I went to the window. Came back. Took a shower. Changed my clothes. Changed again.Every step in that house was like walking on hot coals.And I knew that sooner or later, one of them would set everything on fire.I went downstairs for water. Barefoot, my skin still damp from the shower, dressed in a short pair of shorts and a t







