All Chapters of Forbidden Affairs : Chapter 231 - Chapter 240

Jade tried to forget.She scrubbed the grease from her skin until her fingers ached. She tossed the torn top into the trash and ignored the way her thighs still trembled when she walked. She told herself it was a mistake. One dark, filthy moment she’d never repeat.But the scent of oil still clung to her. The ache between her legs hadn’t faded. It had bloomed. Every time she closed her eyes, she saw him. His fingers, slick with her arousal. His cock, thick and unforgiving. His growl against her ear as he told her she was his.She was still sore.But it wasn’t enough.She tried touching herself. Late at night. Lights off. Her hand between her thighs. She tried to mimic the way he had fingered her. The rough rhythm. The stretch. But it wasn’t the same. Her body didn’t respond to her own touch the way it had to his.No matter how hard she tried, her orgasm wouldn’t come without remembering his voice saying, “Shut up. You came here wanting this.”So she drove back.Not to pick up her car.

She didn’t knock.Not anymore.By now, the garage felt more like her confessional than a place of repair. She came here not to be saved, but to be broken. Over and over again.The oil-stained walls, the scent of metal, the silence — all of it made her feel alive. She belonged on her knees here more than she ever had behind a desk. And the man who pulled orgasms from her body like he was fixing an engine?He owned her.Or so she thought.Jade pushed the metal door open and stepped into the glow of the overhead lights. Her heartbeat was already speeding up, breath coming shallow.But something was off.Laughter.A woman’s laugh. High and breathy.Her feet slowed. That laugh wasn’t hers. She didn’t make sounds like that when he touched her. She screamed. She cried. She moaned like a woman being punished.She stepped around the corner and saw them.A brunette. Younger. Leaning against the same hood she had been tied to last night. Her dress was hiked up. Her panties dangled from one ankle

The first thing she noticed was the smell.Motor oil. Grease. Cigarettes. Sweat.It clung to the walls of the garage like a ghost, heavy in the air, thick enough to taste. It wasn’t unpleasant. Not to her. It reminded her of her father’s old shop, of broken bikes and dirty hands. Of things that didn’t require pretending.She stepped further inside.A drop of sweat traced the curve of her spine as the summer heat pressed against her from all sides. Her car had died a mile out, engine wheezing, the hood smoking like a dying animal. She hadn’t panicked. She didn’t panic over things like that.She walked.And now she stood in the doorway of a nameless garage in the middle of nowhere. No receptionist. No music. Just the echo of her boots on concrete and the buzz of an overhead light struggling to stay alive.Then she saw him.The mechanic.Crouched low beside a stripped-down bike, forearms flexing as he tightened a bolt. He wore low-hung jeans and nothing else. His back was soaked with swe

The garage door was still open.It wasn’t supposed to be.The mechanic usually locked it behind them. But maybe this time he wanted to make a point.Marley was on her knees again.Her lips were swollen. Her mascara was streaked. Her throat ached from how deep he’d fucked it the last time. She didn’t know how long it had been. Minutes. Hours. She no longer cared.The other girl — the one who’d brought her — was lying flat on her back beside a pile of greasy rags. Her legs were open. Her pussy red and puffy. Her lips parted in a blissed-out smile. Cum dripped from her inner thighs, staining the floor.The mechanic stood over them.Still hard.Still hungry.He tugged Marley up by her hair and made her bend over the hood of a car he hadn’t worked on in years. She didn’t fight it. She couldn’t. Her whole body trembled, her legs barely stable, her cunt sore and needy.He slapped her ass once. Then again. Harder.“You thought I’d stop?” he muttered. “You thought this would be over after one

He had cleaned the garage twice.Mopped the floors. Wiped down the benches. Changed the bulbs.He wasn’t waiting. At least that’s what he told himself.But every hour, his eyes flicked to the door.Every time he heard boots outside, his cock twitched with the memory of her voice in his ear, her hand on his throat, her cock inside him.The mechanic — the man who once fucked women until they forgot their names — had been reduced to something raw and waiting.And when the door finally creaked open again, the way it had a week ago, he didn’t pretend not to hear it.She stepped in like the last time had never ended.Same black boots. Same leather jacket. But this time, she had a duffel bag slung over one shoulder.She dropped it on the table with a loud thud.He stood there, hands covered in oil, chest tight.“I wasn’t sure you’d come back,” he said.She didn’t smile.She walked right up to him. Grabbed his chin. Pulled his face down to hers.“I told you to be on your knees.”He dropped. I