All Chapters of Craving Forbidden Pleasures : Chapter 231 - Chapter 240

Dominic's penthouse was like a glittering empire that pulsed with life. Dominic Hale stood at the window, dark suit tailored perfectly, tie loosened, sleeves rolled to his elbows, a glass of single malt in hand. Beside him, Ava rested on the leather chaise, hips and thighs exposed beneath a silk robe that had slipped just enough to tempt and torment, a faint smile tugging at her lips.“Morning,” Dominic murmured, voice low, deep, with a familiar undertone of command.Ava stretched luxuriously, arching against the chaise, tracing the curve of her own leg with languid fingers. “Morning,” she purred, eyes glinting with mischief and heat. “I see you’ve already taken control of the empire today.”He smirked, turning to study her, dark eyes roaming possessively over her body. “Control?” His voice was a growl, a promise, a warning all at once. “This empire is ours. And you…” He stepped closer, pressing the heel of his palm to the small of her back, guiding her upright. “…you’re the crown je

The envelope was heavy, the kind of weight that made it impossible to ignore. It arrived without a return address, slid beneath my apartment door sometime between midnight and dawn. I almost missed it in the morning rush, but the glint of black wax on the hardwood floor caught my attention.I picked it up, turning it over in my hands. Smooth ivory paper, sealed with an insignia pressed into the wax — a mask with hollow eyes, staring back at me as though it knew something I didn’t.My pulse jumped. I wasn’t the type to receive mysterious letters. Bills, yes. Marketing flyers, of course. But this? It felt more like a relic from another century than something meant for me, a twenty-nine-year-old paralegal with a stack of unfinished work waiting on my desk.Still, I carried it into the kitchen, set it on the counter, and stared at it while the coffee machine sputtered to life. I told myself I should just throw it away. Nothing good ever came in envelopes without names. But something in th

Two nights. That’s all I managed before I found myself back at the door of 1127 Ashmore Street.I told myself I wouldn’t come. That I’d left the envelope and the blindfold behind me. That I’d return to normal life — case files, early mornings, lonely nights with a glass of wine and the faint hum of the TV for company.But normal felt like starvation now.The echo of silk sliding over my eyes haunted me. The weight of his voice when he said awakening had carved itself into my bones. Every quiet hour since leaving the club had been filled with memory and need, and need was the stronger of the two.So here I was again, my breath sharp in the night air, my hands trembling as I reached for the brass knocker.The door opened before I touched it. Cassandra was waiting, her lips curving like she already knew the battle I’d lost.“Welcome back, Evelyn.”Her tone wasn’t surprised. It was satisfied.The club was busier tonight. The lounge hummed with more voices, bodies moving through the shadow

When Cassandra slid the envelope into my palm that night, the black wax was still warm from her fingers. She didn’t have to say anything; the invitation was confirmation enough. This time the card carried a single word embossed in silver: Obedience.My skin prickled as if someone had traced a line down my spine. Obedience sounded like surrender and study and something darker — a curriculum for the body I had never known I wanted to learn. Yet when I walked through The Echelon’s doors, it felt less like a choice and more like an appointment my soul had scheduled long before I knew its name.“You look different,” Cassandra murmured as she led me past the lounge. There were nods from familiar masked faces, small bows of recognition. I’d become a curiosity, then a fixture, and finally something like a promise.“I feel different,” I admitted. The truth tasted like a secret I was no longer ashamed to carry.“That’s good,” she said, pleased. “Tonight is private. Master Corin will take you de

The invitation for the week was delivered not by Cassandra this time, but by a courier who knew better than to linger at my door. A plain envelope, my name in heavy ink, the seal pressed with The Echelon’s sigil. When I slit it open, there was no single word embossed like before. Instead, three:You have been Chosen.The script below explained what that meant in The Echelon’s lexicon. After a successful proving, the submissive was paired with a guide — a Dom, a mentor, someone who would not only test but shape them through a more intimate, sustained arrangement. It was both an honor and a risk. Intimacy here was never casual; it was as binding as the cuffs on the chamber walls.My stomach knotted as I read the final line: Your bond is with Master Corin.The chamber felt different when I entered that evening. Smaller, somehow, though the dimensions had not changed. Masks turned, eyes burned behind them, but the weight of their attention shifted. I was no longer a curiosity, nor an init