Se connecterHe’s my dad’s best friend. Twice my age and Off-limits in every possible way. But when I walked into his mansion at midnight, dressed to tease, I knew I wouldn’t leave untouched. Veeraj Kapoor doesn’t play nice. He’s ruthless, dominant, and filthy with his words. One night, he ruined my virginity and now, he makes me count every thrust, beg for permission to come, and thank him for using me. I should hate it, I should run. Instead, I spread my legs wider. Because the truth is.. I love the way he degrades me. I crave the way he owns me and I know this isn’t just lust-this is obsession. But how long before my father finds out his best friend is turning me into a desperate little slut behind closed doors?
Voir plus“Our Quiet Forever” Saesha’s POV The sunset spilled across the living room windows like melted gold, warm and soft and familiar — the same color of every ending I’d ever feared, and every beginning I never knew I deserved. Elian was on the floor with his wooden horse, trotting it around the rug while narrating a full dramatic story only he understood. The twins were crawling in circles, babbling to each other like they were telling secrets only siblings could decode. And Alex stood in the doorway, leaning against the frame, watching all three of them with an expression I once thought he’d never wear — peace. Pure, unshakeable peace. I walked toward him slowly, my steps quiet, my heart loud. He noticed instantly, his arms opening without a word. I melted into his chest. The place that had once been chaos. Now home. “You’re quiet,” he murmured into my hair. “I’m thinking.” “That’s new.” I elbowed him softly, and he chuckled, kissing the top of my head. Bu
(Saesha’s POV) The kitchen was a war zone. Flour clouds hung in the air like soft mist, the counter was covered in egg shells and spilled milk, and Elian stood on a chair with a whisk in hand — looking way too proud of his “pancake skills.” “Mama, look!” he shouted, stirring the batter with all his strength. “I’m making magic cakes!” I tried not to laugh. “Sweetheart, it’s pancakes, not magic cakes.” He blinked, confused. “But Papa said they turn brown and fluffy — that’s magic!” Alex snorted from the stove. “He’s not wrong.” “Don’t encourage him,” I groaned, but there was no real annoyance in my tone. The twins were in their high chairs, watching their big brother like he was the star of a cooking show. One of them — our little girl — clapped every time Elian made the batter splash. The other — our quiet boy — giggled whenever the spoon made a funny sound. Alex turned, flipping a pancake perfectly with one hand while wiping batter off Elian’s cheek with the other. “You’ve g
(Saesha’s POV) The night settled soft and slow, wrapping the house in that tender kind of stillness that only came after laughter. The twins had finally drifted off — one sprawled across Alex’s chest, the other snuggled into my arm, clutching his tiny bear like a secret. Elian had insisted on sleeping in his little bed tonight, his new wooden horse “Thunder” safely tucked beside him. But even as I stood in the doorway watching him, I could tell he wasn’t quite asleep yet — his eyes half-open, dreamy. “Can’t sleep, my little knight?” I whispered, stepping closer. He shook his head slightly, his voice soft and thick with drowsiness. “Papa said dragons are real.” I smiled faintly. “Did he now?” “Yeah,” he murmured, eyes fluttering. “But he said they’re not bad dragons… just sad ones who forgot how to love.” My heart tugged. That was so like Alex — turning even monsters into metaphors for hearts that once hurt. Elian rolled onto his side, clutching Thunder tighter. “But Papa’s no
SAESHA POV The sound of carving filled the warm night air — soft shavings of wood falling rhythmically as Alex worked on the porch table. The faint golden light from the hanging lantern kissed his skin, glinting off the curve of his jaw, the muscles in his forearms flexing as he guided the knife with careful precision. I leaned against the doorframe, arms folded, watching him. “You’ve been at it for hours,” I murmured, smiling when he didn’t even glance up. “Mm,” he hummed lowly, eyes still on the wooden piece in his hand. “They’re almost done. You know how Elian gets when he sees the twins with something new.” My lips curved as I stepped closer, peeking over his shoulder. Three tiny wooden toys rested on the table — one was a small horse with intricate details carved into the mane, the other two were little bears. The twins’ initials were carefully etched underneath. “You carved their initials?” I asked softly. “Of course.” He finally looked up at me, those stormy-blue eyes cat
Saesha’s POV The soft morning light filtered through the curtains, painting golden streaks across our room. I blinked sleepily, the warmth of Alex’s arm draped over my waist, his breath feathering against my neck. For a moment, I just lay there—listening to the faint, rhythmic breathing of our bab
SAESHA POV The smell of frosting, balloons, and baby lotion — that was our house today. Aira and Aran’s first birthday. I’d spent half the morning stringing up pastel garlands across the living room while Alex wrestled with an arch of golden balloons that refused to cooperate. Elian was in cha
SAESHA POV It started with a wobble. Aira had been standing on her own for weeks, balancing on anything she could find — the coffee table, my leg, even the back of poor Aran, who tolerated her antics with saintly patience. But that morning, while I was folding laundry and Alex was fixing someth
SAESHA POV There are days that creep up on you quietly — the ones you know are going to mean something, even if they look ordinary at first glance. This morning was one of them. Elian’s first day of preschool. He was standing by the door in a tiny blue backpack, curls freshly brushed (for now)












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