All Chapters of Ten Sinful Commandments : Chapter 61 - Chapter 70

Her skin still glowed with sweat. Her thighs were sticky from the aftermath. Her breath hadn’t even returned to normal.But Lydia turned in Damian’s arms, still pinned beneath him, her eyes dark and unreadable.“Tell me the truth,” she whispered.His hand rested flat against her stomach. “About what?”She slid her fingers up the ridges of his chest, grazing over the scar just below his collarbone. “Vivienne. This place. The cellar. The lies.”His jaw flexed. “You ask too many questions after I’ve just f*cked the truth out of you.”She smirked. “Then f*ck it into me this time.”Her words were a challenge.And he took them like fire to gasoline.Damian surged forward, grabbing her thigh and flipping her onto her back again, arms pinned above her head.“Fine,” he growled, dragging the tip of himself along her soaked entrance. “You want the truth?”He pushed into her slowly, inch by inch, until her lips parted in a silent gasp.“I warned her not to come down here.”He thrust hard. She whi

Lydia’s fingers hovered just above the tape. Her name—Lydia—scrawled in slanted red ink, the kind that smeared like blood when touched. Her breath was shallow, her skin still flushed from what they’d just done in that very room, but her body no longer trembled from pleasure.Now, it trembled from fear.And suspicion.“Say something,” she said, voice tight.Damian didn’t move.“I didn’t record that,” he finally murmured. “I swear to you, Lydia, I’ve never hurt you. Never would.”“But it’s here. My name’s here.” Her voice cracked with disbelief. “Did your father know me before we met? Did you know me before that night at the bar?”“No. No, I—” he stepped forward, reaching for her—She pulled back. “Don’t.”The tension in the room curled around them like smoke. The velvet ropes still dangled from the table. The scent of their bodies lingered in the air, but the heat had gone cold.Lydia turned back to the tapes and lifted hers out. The plastic was warm to the touch. Like it had been used

Lydia’s legs still trembled as she slid off the edge of the table, Damian’s release slick between her thighs, the raw ache between them a silent echo of everything that had just been said—and done.She couldn’t look at him. Not yet.The weight of his confession pressed heavier than his body ever could.“Your father…” she whispered, reaching for her dress with shaking fingers. “He watched me. Chose me. Why?”Damian stood behind her, bare, unrepentant, power rolling off him like heat. “Because he wanted to shape me. Mold me into the kind of man who could… take control. And I guess you—” he paused, stepping closer, brushing her hair off her neck with a gentleness that didn’t match his earlier ferocity—“you were the final test.”She flinched away. “You talk about me like I’m some kind of object. Like a possession.”“I never saw you that way.”“You f*cked me like you did.”A dark smirk tugged at his lips. “And you came like you liked it.”She spun around and slapped him hard enough to make

Lydia yanked her robe around her naked body, the silk sticking to her damp skin.“Did you see that?” she whispered.Damian was already moving. “Celeste.”He stormed toward the door, but Lydia grabbed his arm.“Don’t chase her,” she hissed. “That’s exactly what she wants.”He froze, chest heaving, torn between fury and control. Lydia’s heart thudded, not just from fear—but from exposure.Celeste had seen them.And she hadn’t looked surprised.Lydia stepped back into the room, every inch of her body still buzzing from the way Damian had touched her… taken her. But now, that pleasure tangled with shame. Not because of what they’d done—but because of who had witnessed it.She paced slowly to the velvet chair, where her underwear had been tossed.“Do you think she’s been watching all along?” she asked, slipping the lace back on. “Or just now?”Damian sat down, elbows on his knees. “Celeste is dangerous. She knows how to stay hidden until she wants to be seen.”Lydia turned to him, lips par

The room was quiet now—quiet like the pause between lightning and thunder. Lydia stood at the mirror, still flushed, still breathless. Her thighs ached deliciously from Damian’s relentless mouth, but her mind refused to relax. Because now, she knew for sure: someone was watching. And that someone was Celeste. She didn’t knock when she found her. The door to the east wing creaked open under her palm. The scent of rose and something darker—muskier—hung in the air. Celeste lay sprawled across a velvet chaise, silk robe open just enough to reveal the swell of one breast and the lazy trail of her fingers over her own thigh. She looked up and smirked like she’d been expecting Lydia all along. “Jealousy looks good on you,” she purred. Lydia didn’t flinch. She shut the door behind her and stepped into the room, her robe slipping off her shoulders. “You’ve been watching us.” Celeste sat up slowly, one brow raised. “Didn’t you like it?” “That’s not the point.” “No?” Celeste rose from th