Semua Bab Forbidden Confession:- An Extra Spicy Erotica Collection : Bab 61 - Bab 65

(LUCIAN'S POV)It had been forty-eight hours since Evelyn Carter had walked out of my office, and I was losing my fucking mind.For two days, her presence had haunted this apartment. I’d see the ghost of her in the chair opposite mine, her eyes wide with that delicious, terrified arousal. I’d hear the echo of her broken gasp when she said my name. It was a constant, maddening obsession that had sunk its teeth into me and refused to let go. I, a man who prided himself on absolute control, was being consumed by the thought of a suburban housewife in a beige dress.I needed a release. A circuit breaker. Something physical and meaningless to clear my head.That’s why she was here.Her name was Cassandra, or maybe Chloe. I’d already forgotten. It didn’t matter. Her body was a masterpiece though—lips plumped with filler, a tiny waist, and two large, perfect, completely fake tits that defied the laws of gravity whatsoever. She was a professional distraction, an empty vessel.Right now, she w

The speedometer of the black Escalade read one hundred and ten miles per hour, and the only sound in the car was the high-pitched whine of the engine and the sound of my bodyguard’s jaw clenching so hard I was surprised his teeth didn’t crack.Liam. His name was a boring, one-syllable thud, just like him. He was a mountain of quiet, coiled muscle and professional disapproval, and for the past six weeks, he’d been my shadow, my jailer, and the primary target of my very creative boredom.“You know, for a guy who’s supposed to be an expert driver, you’re surprisingly tense,” I said, kicking my stilettoed feet up onto his pristine dashboard. “You should relax. Have some fun for once in your miserable, duty-bound life.”His eyes, cold and grey as a storm-tossed sea, flickered from the road to my feet, then back again. Not a word. That was his whole thing. The strong, silent type. It was infuriating. I lived to make him crack.Tonight’s stunt had been a masterpiece. I’d ditched his two juni

My heart was hammering against my ribs, but on the outside, I was the picture of calm, polished professionalism. I was in the final interview for the Vice President of Acquisitions role at Davenport Industries, a job I had been dreaming of for years. The office was a temple of glass and steel on the 75th floor, with a view of the entire city sprawling below.The only person left to impress was the god of this temple himself: Julian Davenport. He was younger than I expected, maybe late thirties, with sharp, intelligent dark eyes, black hair styled with a casual precision, and a custom-tailored suit that probably cost more than my car. He was ruthless, powerful, and so intimidatingly handsome it felt like a weapon.For twenty minutes, he’d grilled me on my resume, his questions sharp and insightful. I’d met every one of them with confidence. I knew I was nailing this.Then, he stopped. He leaned back in his massive leather chair, the picture of calm, predatory authority. He slid a singl