All Chapters of Seduction Unleashed (Erotica Collection): Chapter 41 - Chapter 50

Levi didn’t wait for permission. He crossed the room like he’d been waiting years, not minutes. When his fingers curled around her wrist, there was a rawness in his eyes that made her stomach twist — not with fear, but anticipation. Something about his silence unnerved her more than Rome’s cocky smirks or Kade’s performative kink. He didn’t say a word. He just pulled her up and walked her backward toward the wide leather couch near the fire. Her legs were still jelly, her pulse still hammering from the orgasm Rome had wrung out of her. But she followed. Everyone else shifted, drawn like moths. Levi sat down and pulled her into his lap, back to his chest this time. His hand moved between her legs, still wet, still open. She squirmed, and he tightened his grip. "Don’t run now," he finally murmured, breath hot against her neck. Her breath caught. Then his fingers slid inside. She gasped, her hips rising, but his other arm locked around her waist. She was still so sensitive. Ever

He didn’t sleep beside me. He never does. After he came on me last night, Khalid walked straight to the master bathroom, cleaned himself like I wasn’t even there, and disappeared into his office. I waited on the couch, sticky and aching. Eventually, I curled into a silk blanket and cried—not because I was sad. But because he didn’t kiss me. He never kisses me. This morning, a maid entered the penthouse with a tray of fresh fruit and black coffee. She didn’t look me in the eye. None of them ever do. They treat me like something he bought. Like something he might return if it breaks. I sit at the breakfast bar, legs crossed, wearing one of his oversized shirts with nothing underneath. My skin smells like him. My thighs still burn from how hard he held them. It should disgust me. Instead, I clench around the memory of his voice. "You don’t need to speak. You just need to stay pretty. And mine." God. He’s making me addicted to my own degradation. The elevator dings. My breath

I shouldn’t watch her. I know this. The moment I installed the cameras, I knew. It started off as a safety precaution. A building-wide system for tenant security. Perfectly legal. Professionally maintained. But then I noticed her—Apartment 7C. Her name: Talia Monroe. Age 26. Works in fashion PR. Moves like sin in silk. The first time I saw her, she was barefoot in the kitchen, eating yogurt in an oversized tee. Her nipples pressed through the cotton like they wanted to say something filthy. I paused the footage. Rewound. Watched again. I’ve been watching ever since. I’ve memorized her routines. Tuesdays are bath nights. Thursdays, she drinks white wine and cries to romantic movies. Sundays, she masturbates—hand between her thighs, panting against her pillow. Sometimes she moans. Sometimes she says a name. Never mine. I don't touch myself. Not yet. I watch. Tonight, she’s late. It’s past midnight and she hasn’t come home. I lean forward in my chair, shadows thick around me. My

She doesn’t leave the next morning. She walks around my penthouse in one of my shirts, barefoot and quiet. The city hums outside, but in here, it’s just us. It always feels like just us. I watch her pour coffee. She doesn’t ask for permission. I like that. She brings me a cup and sits across my lap, thighs on either side of mine. Her eyes meet mine over the rim of her mug. “I want to see it,” she says. I raise an eyebrow. “The footage. Of me. Last night. Before you came down.” I pause. “You’re sure?” She nods. “Watching you fucked me up,” I say. “Watching you watch yourself might ruin you.” She leans in. “Then ruin me.” --- The screen glows in the dark office. I sit in the chair. She sits on the desk, one leg crossed over the other, sipping wine. My hand hovers over the keyboard. “You can stop it at any time,” I say. “Don’t you dare,” she whispers. I press play. There she is. Walking in. Red dress, high heels. Angry. Buzzed. Beautiful. She watches herself undress. Her

I never planned to forgive them. Not Devyn. Not Juno. But as I straddled my ex with her mouth on my neck, her fingers between my thighs, and his cock pulsing inside me, I realized this wasn’t about forgiveness. It was about taking everything back. And then breaking it. Their guilt. Their lies. Their bodies. All of it—mine now. “Don’t stop,” I moaned, hips grinding against Devyn’s as I reached back and gripped Juno’s wrist, pushing her fingers deeper. She gasped behind me, pressing her lips to the sweat-slick skin of my back. “You’re soaked.” “No shit,” I snapped, breath hitching. “You jealous?” “Fuck yes,” she whispered, voice ragged. Then come take what’s yours. --- Devyn looked up at me with that same helpless, dazed expression he wore when he came the first time we ever fucked. But this time? He was trying not to. My walls clenched around him and his jaw tightened. “I said you don’t come until I say,” I reminded him, slapping his chest lightly. His hands gripped my