All Chapters of Touch me tender, Break me wild: A Steamy, Erotic compilation: Chapter 41 - Chapter 50

Janette's Point Of ViewMorning light filtered through the curtains, and I woke to the smell of bacon frying. Mark was at the stove, humming off-key, his back to me in just boxers and a t-shirt. I smiled despite everything, slipping out of bed to wrap my arms around him from behind. 'You're up early.' He turned, kissing my temple. 'Wanted to make you breakfast. Big day ahead. I'm meeting with the team on that project.' His hands settled on my hips, warm and familiar. For a second, the world felt right again. No texts, no knocks, just us. We ate at the small table, feet tangled under it. 'What about you?' he asked, forking eggs. 'Bookstore shift?' 'Yeah, till four. Then maybe I'd get groceries.' I kept it light, but my phone buzzed in the bedroom. I ignored it, focusing on him. Mark talked about work drama—his boss pushing deadlines—and I laughed at the right spots, but guilt gnawed at me. Why hadn't I told him about Tom's texts? It was nothing, right? Just friendly. After he l

The morning after my late-night text to Tom, I woke up with a knot in my stomach that wouldn't loosen. Mark was already in the shower, humming some tune from his playlist, and I lay there staring at the ceiling, replaying everything. The kiss by the river. The dinner invite I'd accepted. The way Mark had held me last night, clueless about everything. Guilt clawed at me, sharp and unrelenting. What if someone had seen? What if word got back to Mark? I grabbed my phone from the nightstand, half-expecting a blow-up, but the only new message was from Tom: 'Can't wait for tonight. Will pick you up at 7?' I deleted it quickly. My heart raced.Then my phone buzzed again. Lisa. My best friend since college, the one who'd been my maid of honor. 'Hey, we need to talk. I saw something yesterday. Meet me at the beach? 11 am is okay.' My blood ran cold. I saw something? Oh God, the kiss. She must've been near the river path. I pictured her face—disappointed, angry, judging me for throwing away my

My legs still trembled from the orgasm in the restaurant, a delicious ache that made every step toward the elevator feel electric. Tom's arm was around my waist, his fingers digging just enough into my hip to remind me of what we'd started. The suite was on the top floor, and as the doors slid open, he scooped me up like I weighed nothing, carrying me over the threshold into a room that screamed luxury—king-sized bed draped in silk sheets, floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the city lights, a bottle of champagne chilling on ice. But I barely noticed. All I could focus on was him, the heat radiating from his body into mine, the way his eyes devoured me. He set me down gently, kicking the door shut behind us. 'Jane,' he breathed as his hands slid up my arms, 'I've dreamed about this. About you.' His lips crashed into mine, hungry and deep, tongue sweeping in to claim me. I melted against him and my hands fisted his shirt, pulling him closer. The kiss broke only when we needed air,

Janette's Point Of ViewThe words hung in the air like a noose tightening around my neck. 'Camera?' I repeated, my voice cracking, barely above a whisper. My body felt heavy, exposed, the sheets tangled around my legs as I sat up straighter on the bed. Tom and Lisa were still locked together, her hips grinding lazily on his lap, his cock buried inside her like it belonged there. But their faces—oh god, those indifferent masks they wore now—sent ice through my veins. What the hell did they mean? We'd just... everything was so intense, so real. Or was it all a setup?Lisa's laughter sliced through the room first, sharp and mocking, like glass shattering. She slid off Tom with a wet pop, his cock glistening as it slapped against his thigh, but she didn't care. She turned to me, her eyes gleaming with something dark, triumphant. 'Oh, Jane. Sweet, clueless Jane. You really thought this was just a fun little threesome? A way to spice up your boring marriage?' She wiped a hand across her mou

Chapter 1: The Client Dinner The fluorescent lights of the law firm's conference room buzzed overhead like angry hornets, casting harsh shadows on the polished mahogany table. Mia adjusted her blouse for the third time, the silk clinging a little too snugly to her curves. At 23, she was the youngest paralegal in Richard Hargrove's cutthroat firm, and every day felt like walking a tightrope over a pit of vipers. Richard—her best friend Elena's stepfather—loomed at the head of the table, his broad shoulders straining against his tailored suit, his steel-gray eyes scanning the room with the precision of a predator. He was 48, divorced twice, and built like a man who commanded boardrooms and bedrooms alike. Mia had always known him as the stern figure in Elena's family photos, but now, working under him, that authority felt personal, invasive. "Mia, the deposition transcripts for the merger case," Richard's voice cut through the murmur of associates, low and gravelly, like gravel unde