جميع فصول : الفصل -الفصل 290

Noelle’s POVThe sheets were still tangled and damp around my ankles when I finally caught my breath. My husband, Ezra, was a man of consistency, not just in his career, but in the bedroom.He had spent the last hour dismantling my composurel, driving his cock into me, leaving me feel completely hollowed out and satisfied.As he pulled away, the cool air of the bedroom hit my glistening cunt. Ezra leaned down, pressing a soft, lingering kiss to my forehead.“I have to get going, darling. The board meeting is at nine.” He whispered, already sliding out of bed to gather his clothes.I watched him dress, the familiar routine of the morning taking over. I loved him, and the sex was good. But as I watched him walk out the door with a final wave and a kiss on my cheek, a strange, restless energy remained in the pit of my stomach.It was as if the physical release hadn't quite reached the deepest part of my hunger.I spent the next few hours in the kitchen. I was humming a soft tune, stirrin

C282Chloe’s POV The music in the bedroom was designed to be atmospheric, but to me, it just sounded like noise.I was arched beneath Marcus, my legs wrapped tightly around his waist, my nails digging into the muscle of his back. He was a gorgeous man, athletic, attentive, and currently driving into me with a hungry energy that should have been enough to drown out the rest of the world.By all accounts, this was exactly what I wanted. A distraction. A way to purge the suffocating heat that had been simmering under my skin since the last time I’d seen Enzo.But as Marcus groaned, his breath hot and ragged against my neck, I felt a void where my pleasure should have been.I closed my eyes and the image of Marcus blurred, replaced by Enzo’s silhouette. I didn't want these broad shoulders, I wanted those sharp, lean lines. Enzo.Just thinking his name sent a violent jolt of electricity straight to my clitoris, making me gasp and arch my back. Marcus took it as a sign of encouragement, p

Drew’s POVI was in the kitchen, stirring the sauce in the pot while the smell of garlic and spices filled the apartment.I wasn't much of a cook, but I knew enough to put something decent together. My sister hadn't eaten properly all day, and I wanted there to be something waiting for her when she came downstairs.I glanced at the clock, Enzo should be back soon.For once, I wasn't in a bad mood.I'd seen Stella earlier that day and somehow, that alone had put me in a better mood than I'd been in for weeks. I caught myself smiling as I stirred the pot.“You're in a good mood.” My sister had teased earlier.“Am I not allowed to be?”“You've been smiling at your phone for the past ten minutes.”“I have not.”“You have.”The kitchen was quiet now, apart from the soft bubbling of the sauce and the music playing faintly from my phone.I tasted the sauce and nodded to myself, not bad. At least, I cook better than Enzo. Man! The guy is terrible. I finished preparing the food and divided it

Noelle’s POVEzra stepped out of the shower, the steam clinging to his broad shoulders. Ezra was a good man, stable, loving, and physically.. good. He’s always been supportive. In any other life, in any other set of circumstances, he would have been more than enough.“You look like you're miles away, honey.” Ezra murmured, crossing the room to wrap his arms around me from behind. He kissed the crook of my neck, his touch warm.I leaned back into him, closing my eyes. “Just thinking about work.” I lied.In reality, I was thinking about the dining room. I was thinking about the way Enzo had pinned me against the table that day, the way his voice had sounded when he called my name, not with affection, but with a terrifying authority.The memory of it sent a thrum of arousal through my core, making me lean harder into Ezra's chest.Ezra didn't know. He couldn't know. He believed our marriage was a fortress of trust, unaware that the walls had been breached by my tutor.He turned me aroun

Enzo’s POV Watching Noelle crumble was far more satisfying than the act of sex itself.As I stood by the edge of the hotel bed, watching her kneel on the plush white duvet, I felt a surge of absolute power. She looked like a ruined painting, her silk dress bunched up around her waist, her chest heaving, her eyes wide and glazed with a mixture of terror and longing. This was the "perfect" wife, the woman who lived in a curated world of high-thread-count sheets and societal expectations, now reduced to a trembling mess because I had told her to be.I didn't touch her immediately. I enjoyed the silence. I enjoyed the way she shivered, her gaze fixed on me, waiting for the slightest signal. The anticipation was a weapon, and I wielded it with surgical precision. I wanted her to feel the full weight of her own desperation, to realize that the "safety" of her marriage was a fragile illusion that I had shattered with a few well-placed words and a touch in a dining room three weeks ago."Loo