All Chapters of Sinful Seduction (Exotica Collection): Chapter 211 - Chapter 220

The rain didn’t bother her anymore.It had soaked through her shoes, chilled her skin, clung to her hair like fingers. But she barely felt it. All she could feel was the rising panic in her chest, a gnawing pressure that had wrapped around her lungs since the call from the hospital. Her brother needed the surgery by Friday. And she was still short five thousand.Five thousand might as well have been five million.And there was only one man who could give it to her.She hesitated outside the door, her hand hovering near the iron handle. The building loomed behind her like a secret, a place most people passed by without noticing. But she noticed. She always had. She’d lived in the apartment upstairs for almost a year, and she’d only seen him twice.Marlo.The landlord. The collector. The man who made grown men whisper his name like a curse.Everyone had a story.And she was about to become one of them.Her hand closed around the door and pushed.Inside was warm, too warm. Dim lights lin

The room smelled of cedar, sweat, and sin.She stood near the door, wearing nothing but the collar he’d given her. Thin, black leather with a silver ring in the center. The tag dangling from it still made her thighs clench—etched in neat, serif letters:His.Marlo watched her from across the space. He hadn’t moved since she entered. He sat in a tall leather armchair, legs spread, eyes dark, his shirt unbuttoned halfway, revealing the hard lines of his chest and the veins trailing down his forearms. There was something almost feral in the stillness of him. Like a beast waiting for the moment to strike.“Come forward,” he said, voice low.She stepped onto the rug, her bare feet silent against the wood.“Stop.”She froze mid-step.He stood slowly and walked toward her, stopping so close she could feel the heat from his skin. His fingers lifted her chin.“Do you know why you’re here tonight?”She nodded.“Say it.”“To serve.”“To surrender,” he corrected.Her breath hitched.He circled he

The desert didn’t forgive trespassers.Not even when the trespasser was a woman with flushed cheeks, camera in hand, and no idea that she’d just crossed the one line she shouldn’t have.The palace rose like a mirage from the dunes—white limestone glowing under the moonlight, towers crowned with gold, glass windows reflecting stars that no longer felt distant. It was beautiful. Isolated. Untouched. And off-limits to anyone without blood, power, or permission.She had none of those.But she had curiosity. And hunger.She wasn’t just a tourist.She was a journalist. Or at least, she used to be. Fired six months ago from a New York publication that had traded foreign stories for celebrity gossip. Now, she worked independently, selling photos and exposés to whoever paid best. And this palace—this untouched, hidden fortress in the heart of the Sharhan desert—had a story buried deep inside.A scandal. A secret. Something worth chasing.She crept around the back wall, the sound of sand shifti

She knew tonight would be different.The way the maids bathed her longer than usual. The way they massaged her thighs, oiled her neck, and fastened the golden cuffs to her wrists—not to restrain her, but to decorate her. Her body shimmered in the candlelight. The air smelled of spice and heat.And the sheer red veil they wrapped around her body left nothing to the imagination.She didn’t ask where she was being taken.She knew better now.Obedience had become instinct. Her resistance was still somewhere inside her—but buried. Waiting. Hoping he’d never dig it out again.Two guards escorted her down a long corridor beneath the palace, into an underground chamber she’d never seen before. The walls were stone, carved with ancient script. Torches lined the path. The further she descended, the warmer it became—not from fire, but from tension.The sound of low voices reached her ears.Male voices.The moment the doors opened, the heat swallowed her whole.The chamber was circular, the floor

The velvet curtain trembled as the heavy bass of the underground club throbbed through the walls. The air smelled of sweat, whiskey, and anticipation. She stood in the shadows backstage, her wrists trembling against the thin silk rope tied loosely around them. The satin dress they had given her clung to her curves, cut too high at the thigh, plunging too deep at the chest. She wasn’t dressed to be admired. She was dressed to be sold.Her throat burned as she swallowed down panic. She hadn’t known this world existed until she was dragged into it. An exclusive club for the richest men in the city, one that traded in rare possessions, sometimes art, sometimes gems, and sometimes women. Tonight, she was the jewel on display.“Number nineteen,” a guard barked, his gloved hand closing around her arm. His grip was iron, the kind that left no space for argument.Her heels clicked against the marble floor as she was pulled into the light. For a moment, the sudden brightness blinded her. Then t