All Chapters of Sinful Seduction (Exotica Collection): Chapter 71 - Chapter 80

Celeste wasn’t supposed to come back.That had been the silent agreement. No names. No words. No expectations. But ever since she left that room, her skin hadn’t stopped burning. She could still feel the bruise on her hip. The soreness between her legs. The stretch of him, buried deep inside her, claiming her without permission or apology.She’d touched herself every night since.It wasn’t enough.So she returned.She wasn’t invited. He hadn’t slipped another key across the table. He hadn’t even looked at her during her shift at Velvet Cellar.But she knew which room it was. She’d memorized the number. She wore black lace under a trench coat and nothing else. Her heels echoed off the hallway floor. With each step closer to the door, her chest got tighter. Her thighs already wet.She didn’t knock.She slid the old keycard in — surprised it still worked — and stepped inside.He was there.Sitting in the same chair by the window, unbothered, holding a glass of dark liquor. He didn’t look

Nathan stared at the collar laid out on the bathroom counter. Polished black leather, silver ring in the center. It mocked him with its simplicity — no tags, no words, just silent power. It had been two days since Simone made him sleep hard and untouched, and he hadn’t dared defy her again.Until this morning.She didn’t kiss him goodbye.She simply said, “The collar stays on.”And walked away.Nathan had tried to argue. Had pleaded with his eyes. “What if someone notices?” he’d whispered, already half-hard just from the command.“That’s the point,” she replied, walking into the closet in nothing but a towel. “Let them notice. Let them wonder.”Now here he was, dressed in a clean, pressed shirt and suit, the collar tight beneath the buttoned fabric. It wasn’t a loose fit. Simone made sure of that. It pressed against his neck, forced him to swallow harder, kept his every breath under her control.He caught his reflection in the mirror. Neat hair. Trimmed beard. Expensive clothes. But b

Nathan knelt in the center of the living room, naked except for the steel chastity cage Simone had locked him into days ago. His hands rested flat on his thighs, eyes downcast, back straight. Every muscle in his body was tight with restraint.He hadn’t been touched since the punishment.Simone hadn’t said a word all morning, just dressed slowly while he waited at her feet like a well-trained pet. The collar dug into his neck. The cage throbbed around his aching cock. And still, she offered nothing—no praise, no attention.Then, the doorbell rang.Nathan tensed.Simone’s heels clicked across the floor. The sound always made him dizzy. Her power wasn’t in her voice—it was in her silence. In the pause before pain. In the absence of permission.She opened the door.“Right on time,” she said casually.Nathan lifted his head, barely. A man walked in—tall, broad, sharply dressed in black slacks and a simple shirt. His presence was immediate, heavy, the way some wolves walk into a room and ev

The first time Rhea saw Dax Hart, she knew she would hate him. It wasn’t the smug curve of his mouth, or the way he took up too much space in the conference room like he’d paid for every damn inch of it. It wasn’t even the fact that he wore a black turtleneck in June. It was the look he gave her when she finished her presentation — that lazy, arrogant smirk that said he hadn’t heard a single word she’d said but already decided he could do it better.She crossed her legs tighter, refused to look at him, and forced herself to sip her coffee as if her hand wasn’t trembling just slightly with rage.He was the new creative director from the Los Angeles branch, transferred in after her firm’s acquisition of Steel Grey Agency. Everyone had been buzzing about it. “The golden boy,” they called him. “Won awards at twenty-six. Raised campaigns from dust.” Whatever. Rhea didn’t care about his accolades. She cared that now she had to share space — her space — with a man who looked at her like she

She didn’t knock.The door was already ajar when she got there, as if he knew she would come. As if he’d been waiting.Rhea stepped inside without hesitation, letting the door shut behind her with a soft click. The apartment was all sleek lines and dark wood, low lights casting golden shadows on stone countertops. Minimal. Cold. Masculine.She didn’t call out.She didn’t have to.Dax appeared from the hallway, shirtless, sweatpants riding low on his hips, a tumbler of whiskey in his hand. His hair was damp. There was a cut on his bottom lip — fresh, angry. Probably from a gym fight or his own teeth.He looked wrecked.And yet she had never wanted anyone more.“Couldn’t stay away, huh?” he said, voice rough from either alcohol or restraint.“Don’t flatter yourself,” she answered, but her voice wasn’t nearly as sharp as she wanted it to be.He took a slow sip of his drink, eyes raking over her like he was peeling her apart layer by layer.“What are we doing, Rhea?”“Destroying each othe