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Goodbye Friends
Last Updated:
2025-05-25 04:35:30
Latest chapter
Whispers of Submission Revenge in Lace
They stepped out of the restaurant into the cool night, but the air did nothing to temper the furnace blazing between them. Cassie’s entire body felt like one exposed nerve, every brush of the silk dress against her skin a reminder of what Reggie had done and what he hadn’t let her do. Her thighs still trembled from the slow, deliberate torture under the table, and the memory of his fingers sliding away just as she teetered on the edge made her want to scream or bite him or both. Reggie’s palm settled low on her back as they walked to the valet, thumb tracing slow, maddening circles that felt like ownership. She shivered, not from cold. “Thank you for dinner,” she managed, voice husky, sliding into the warm leather of the SUV. “Anytime,” he murmured, the word curling around her like smoke before he shut the door with a soft, final click. He circled the hood, jacket open, tie loosened just enough to reveal the strong column of his throat. When he climbed in and started the engine,
Whispers of Submission A date and two fingers in
Cassie stepped into the penthouse just as the sun dipped below the skyline, casting long shadows across the marble floors. The place felt empty without Reggie’s presence. She kicked off her heels by the door, padded to the kitchen for a glass of water, and checked her phone. No missed calls. No texts. He’d promised seven, but the clock on the microwave blinked 6:45, and the only sound was the distant hum of the city below. She wasn’t worried yet. Reggie’s days were a whirlwind of meetings and mergers; delays happened. Still, as she wandered to her room, the anticipation that had simmered all afternoon twisted into a low hum of impatience. She showered quickly, letting the hot water wash away the office grime, then stood in front of her closet debating outfits like it was a battlefield strategy. Elegant but simple, she decided. Nothing flashy that screamed trying too hard, but enough to make his eyes darken the way they did when he wanted her. She slipped into a midnight-blue silk sl
Whispers of Submission What a Day
Cassie practically sprinted from the private elevator the second the doors slid open on the thirty-second floor. Her cheeks were on fire, her thighs still trembling from the two, no, three orgasms Reggie had wrung from her in the space of forty-five scandalously late minutes. The marble hallway blurred as she speed-walked, clutching her laptop bag like a shield.“Morning!” she squeaked to the security guard, who lifted a brow but wisely said nothing.She made it to her desk, collapsed into her chair with a breathless laugh that sounded half-hysterical. Her reflection in the dark monitor looked exactly like a woman who had been thoroughly, gloriously ruined before nine a.m: Hair escaping its knot, lips swollen, pupils blown wide. She touched her mouth and felt the phantom press of Reggie’s teeth.Get it together, Cass.She powered through emails, rewrote two quarterly summaries, and somehow managed to look competent while her pulse still thrummed between her legs like a second heartbea
Whispers of Submission After the storm
Cassie surfaced slowly from sleep, the way you rise through warm water toward light. The room was quiet except for the low hum of the city far below and the faint rustle of sheets as she stretched. Sunlight slipped through the half-open blinds in pale gold ribbons, striping the duvet and painting warm lines across her bare legs. She yawned, rolled onto her side, and froze. Reggie was there. He sat in the dove-gray velvet armchair beside her dresser, elbows resting on his knees, hands loosely clasped, watching her with the kind of stillness that felt almost sacred. The early light caught the sharp cut of his cheekbones, the shadow of stubble along his jaw, the exhaustion carved deep beneath his eyes. He looked like a man who had spent the night at war with himself. Cassie jolted upright, clutching the sheet to her chest. “Jesus, Reggie!” Her voice came out breathy and startled. “How long have you been sitting there?” He didn’t flinch. Just held her gaze with those piercing eyes. “A
Whispers of Submission The tensed drive back home
The SUV’s headlights carved twin tunnels through the dark as they left Asher’s house behind. Maple leaves skittered across the windshield like tiny red warnings. Cassie hugged the garment bags to her chest, the buttery leather of the new coat still warm. The silence inside the car was thick enough to choke. Reggie’s knuckles were pale against the black steering wheel. The muscle in his jaw ticked every time a streetlamp flashed across his face. He hadn’t said a word since they’d pulled away. Cassie tried for light. “I can't believe the short ribs were actually edible. Asher might survive adulthood after all.” Nothing. Not even a flicker of a smile. She sighed and turned to the window. Fine. If he wanted to stew, she’d let him. She traced a finger through the condensation on the glass, drawing tiny hearts she immediately erased. Five miles bled into ten. Finally he spoke, voice low and clipped. “So, a teaching job? When were you planning on telling me?” Cassie’s stomach dipped.
Whispers of Submission Dinner, and a warning
Cassie took one bite and actually moaned. “Okay, who are you and what have you done with my brother?” she asked, eyes wide. “This is… obscene. In the best way.” Asher beamed proudly. “I told you culinary school was worth my money. Mom would be proud she didn’t die in vain trying to teach me how to boil water.” Reggie swallowed a mouthful and pointed his fork at Asher. “I am impressed. If you ever quit finance, open a restaurant. I’ll fund it. I’m not even joking.” “Careful,” Cassie teased, “he’ll name it ‘Asher’s Revenge’ and only serve dishes our Mom hated.” The silky old wine flowed and the conversation stayed light: Terrible college roommates, the time Asher tried to dye his hair blond and ended up radioactive orange, the action movie Cassie had watched twice today because the lead’s abs were apparently “a public service.” Halfway through seconds, Asher leaned back and fixed his gaze on Cassie. “So. Internship. Is this tyrant treating you well, or do I need to stage an inter
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