All Chapters of Sinful Seduction (Exotica Collection): Chapter 171 - Chapter 180

I did. The angle opened me to the cool air and to him. He kissed the crease at my hip and then put his mouth exactly where I ached. His tongue was patient at first, learning me again, then ruthless once he had the map. He flattened, circled, drew slow figure eights that made my knees feel unreliable. He sealed his mouth and pulled, just enough. I broke open a second time, faster than I would have admitted, my body shaking and his hands steady on my hips. He did not stop when I pleaded. He softened, then sharpened, giving me no place to hide. The wet sounds of his mouth and the rain beyond the rail braided into something that felt forbidden and perfect.“Ethan,” I said, and my voice was not a voice. It was a plea.He lifted his head, chin wet, eyes dark with intent. “I want you against the door,” he said. “I want to hold your mouth when you try not to make a sound.”My whole body answered before my mind did. He rose in one clean line and turned me, palms gentle at my waist. The glass d

Rain tapped against my window.It was late — too late for anyone to still be awake — but the house wasn’t entirely silent. Somewhere down the hall, I heard the low thud of a door closing.I slipped out of bed.The hall was dark except for the faint glow spilling from under the study door. I pushed it open just enough to see him.Daniel sat behind my father’s desk, tie gone, shirt sleeves rolled up, a glass of whiskey in his hand. His hair was slightly damp, as if he’d just showered. He looked up when I stepped inside.“You should be asleep,” he said.“So should you.”He didn’t smile. He just set the glass down and leaned back in the chair, watching me. The air felt heavier in that room, thick with leather, smoke, and something sharper — him.I moved closer, my bare feet silent on the rug. His eyes followed every step.“What are you doing in here?” I asked.“Thinking.”“About?”He didn’t answer right away. He let his gaze drop, deliberately, to the thin straps of my camisole, the hem o

The days that followed were a torment.She told herself she’d imagined it. That it wasn’t as intense as she remembered. That the note, the voice, the smirk through the hole—they were all heat-drunk hallucinations of a lonely woman with a hunger she couldn’t tame.But the ache between her legs said otherwise.So did the new note that appeared two nights later.“You didn’t finish last time. Let me help.”No name. No time. Just that.She stared at the paper like it might catch fire in her palm.She should’ve been scared. Should’ve been calling the landlord, packing a bag, escaping whatever this was before it swallowed her whole.But she was wet just reading it.Because he was right.She hadn’t finished. Not really. She had come, yes—but it wasn’t release. It was hunger deepened. Satisfaction sharpened into something dangerous.And now, she wanted more.She dressed slowly that night. Black lace panties. A sheer robe that barely clung to her shoulders. No bra.She didn’t bother with perfum

She hadn’t even been at the company for a full week when temptation walked out of the elevator with a smirk and a devil in his eyes.The job was supposed to be her lifeline. After three months of scraping by on vending machine meals and couch hopping, landing a position as personal assistant to the CEO of Carrion Holdings had felt like divine intervention. The money was decent. The hours were brutal. The boss was intimidating.But she could survive that. She’d survived worse.What she hadn’t expected—what no one had warned her about—was the son.She didn’t know he was the boss’s son the first time she saw him. No one told her. But there was something in the way he moved—like the world bent around him, like rules were made for other people—that made it obvious he didn’t answer to anyone but himself.It was a Wednesday. Late morning. She had just come back from filing contracts on the thirteenth floor and was standing outside her boss’s office with an armful of reports when the elevator

The next few days were a blur of tension, heat, and dangerously stolen moments.He didn’t text. He didn’t call. But he didn’t need to. The way Luca moved through the office said enough. Every time he passed her desk, he’d brush his hand just close enough to graze her wrist. Every time their eyes met across a crowded meeting room, he’d smirk like he was remembering how she tasted bent over a boardroom table.She hated how much she loved it.The days went by in a haze. Her panties were constantly damp. Her heart raced when her phone buzzed, even though it was never him. Every second she spent in the office felt like foreplay, and she didn’t know how long she could keep pretending she wasn’t dying to be used by him again.Then, on Friday, it happened.She’d just finished scheduling a lunch meeting for her boss and was organizing a binder of fiscal reports when Luca’s voice slid over her shoulder like silk.“Come with me.”She turned.He didn’t wait for her answer.He walked ahead, expect