All Chapters of Forbidden Affairs : Chapter 261 - Chapter 270

The loft above the garage is hot. Not from the weather.From the tension.From the way he watches us both.From the collar locked around my neck.From the way Jenna kneels across from me—naked, trembling, waiting.She asked to come back.He didn’t say yes at first.Made her beg.Made her apologize.Made her swear that she understood: I belonged to him. And she was just an extra pair of lips, an extra set of shaking thighs. Not his girl. Not his priority.Just something for him to use when he wanted to watch me break.Now she’s here. Again.And this time, he’s not letting her touch without permission.He circles us slowly, leather leash trailing from my collar. The snap of his boots against the floor echoes with every step.“You begged for this,” he says to her.Jenna nods.“You said you wanted to serve.”“I do.”“You said you didn’t care if she was first.”“I don’t.”“Prove it.”He stops in front of her and holds out the plug.The one he used on me in Bay Five.Jenna hesitates.He doe

The heat slammed into her before she even opened the door.Thick. Oppressive. Molten.Her camera lens fogged. Her breath caught.The forge blazed like a beast in the center of the room. Sparks crackled in the air. Every surface gleamed with sweat and steel.And at the anvil stood a man.Naked from the waist up.Firelight kissed his carved chest, thick arms glistening with sweat. His back was broad. Roped with muscle. A leather apron slung low on his hips barely covered the rest. His hammer struck hot metal, the sound echoing through the cabin like a heartbeat.She didn’t mean to stare.But he didn’t look up.Not even when she spoke.“Hi. I’m… I’m with Highland Profiles magazine. I sent letters. About the article.”He didn’t stop hammering.“I’ve been trying to reach you,” she added, shifting awkwardly, her boots crunching on stray metal shavings. “You’re kind of a legend. Off-grid blacksmith. No internet. No phone. No interviews. I thought if I showed up—”He turned.Finally.His face

The sign said “Private Land. No Trespassing.”She stepped over it anyway.Maple’s job wasn’t exactly legal — but when her editor offered double pay for candid wildlife photos on untracked land, she hadn’t thought twice. Black bears. Cougars. Maybe a wolf if she was lucky.What she didn’t expect was a steel trap snapping shut two feet from her boot.She froze.It was massive. Rusted. Deadly.And she hadn’t seen it until it was too late.Her heart pounded as she backed away slowly, scanning the forest floor now with new eyes. There were dozens of them. Hidden under moss. Buried in leaves. Perfectly placed.Then she heard the voice.“You’re not very good at being quiet.”She whipped around.A man stepped out from the trees. Not emerged — stepped. Like he was made of the forest.He was tall. Broad-shouldered. Camo pants tucked into heavy boots. No shirt — just a harness of knives strapped across a bare chest sculpted like a statue. His jaw was covered in stubble, his hair tied back, and h

The first thing she noticed was the blood.It dripped down the drain behind the glass counter. It stained the apron he wore. It painted his hands, dark red and thick.The second thing she noticed was him.Massive. Silent. Unbothered by her presence.He stood behind the butcher block with a cleaver in hand, chopping through bone like it was paper. His arms bulged beneath the rolled sleeves of his shirt. His beard was streaked with silver. His eyes? Focused. Unapologetically male.Lena hesitated at the entrance. The mountain market was almost empty, the lights flickering above her head. She was only supposed to pick up supplies for the cabin she rented.She wasn’t supposed to stop here.Definitely not supposed to stare.He looked up once. Met her gaze.Didn’t smile.Didn’t speak.Just watched her like he could see under her skin.“Need something?” His voice was deep, rough as rawhide.She cleared her throat. “I—yeah. Um… a few cuts of steak?”He turned without another word and moved tow

Locals called it the scarred mountain.Miners used to say the hills bled there. The shafts were sealed now, the tunnels abandoned decades ago after the last cave-in. No one hiked that way anymore. No tourists. No rangers. No cameras.But she wasn’t like most people.She liked things people were afraid of.And when a bartender told her there was still a man living up there — in the old mining house no one dared to enter — she grabbed her camera, laced her boots, and hiked straight into the story.She found the cabin at sunset.It leaned against the edge of the ravine like it might collapse with a hard wind. The wood was faded gray. The door hung crooked on rusted hinges. It looked dead.Still, she knocked.Nothing.She knocked again.Then she heard it — boots. Slow. Heavy.The door swung open.And she forgot how to breathe.He stood in the shadowed doorway like a warning. Broad. Bare-chested. His body was carved from muscle and pain, marred by thick scars that crisscrossed his chest, h