Semua Bab Forbidden Confession:- An Extra Spicy Erotica Collection : Bab 31 - Bab 36

The silence in the house was a physical thing, thick and suffocating. It was broken only by the rhythmic click-clack of Landon’s keyboard from the home office. My husband. The man who was supposedly my partner in all things, yet here I was, alone in our king-sized bed, feeling a familiar ache deep in my belly. An ache he hadn't touched, or even seemed to notice, in weeks.My hand slid down from my stomach, over the silk of my nightgown, and between my legs. It was a lazy, frustrated touch at first. I squeezed my thighs together, trying to imagine it was him, that he’d finally closed his laptop and remembered he had a wife. But the fantasy was hollow. Landon’s touch, when it came, was always so… perfunctory. Efficient. Like he was checking an item off a to-do list.My fingers found my clit through the thin fabric of my panties. I was already wet. My own body, always ready, always hopeful, betraying me. I closed my eyes and let my imagination take over, picturing a man who wasn't Landon

The sound of Landon’s office door clicking open was like a starter pistol. Panic, cold and sharp, shot through my veins, overriding the languid, post-orgasmic haze. I scrambled off the bed, my limbs slick and trembling. The evidence of my betrayal was everywhere—my torn nightgown on the floor, the damp, cooling mess on the sheets, the scent of Kael’s sweat and my own arousal thick in the air.My heart hammered against my ribs as I snatched my robe from the floor, pulling it on and tying the sash with fumbling fingers. I heard Landon’s footsteps on the stairs, slow and even. He was going to the kitchen. I had seconds.With frantic, desperate movements, I ripped the soiled sheets from the bed, balling them up and shoving them deep into the bottom of my laundry hamper, praying he wouldn’t notice the bare mattress. I grabbed the torn silk of my nightgown and buried it under the other clothes. My body still ached, a deep, throbbing reminder of Kael’s possession. I could still feel him insi

"Can I get you anything else, Mr. Vance?" I asked, my voice polite, professional. The question was a formality. He was Silas Vance. A billionaire. Owner of this entire private jet. He had everything.He sat in a leather armchair, a glass of amber liquid in his hand. The only other person on the flight was his pilot, locked in the cockpit, a wall away. It was just him and me. And the silence. The kind of silence that feels heavy and thick.He was older. Forty-five, maybe fifty. His hair was silver at the temples, but his body was lean and hard under his expensive suit. His eyes, the color of a cold, deep ocean, watched me from over the rim of his glass. I felt my skin prickle under his gaze."Yes, Jessica," he said, his voice a low rumble. My name, spoken by him, felt like a brand. He set his drink down on the small table beside him. "You can come over here and sit with me."My breath hitched. My training manual didn't cover this. "I'm sorry, sir? I have duties to attend to."He chuckl