บททั้งหมดของ Lust Behind Closed Doors: บทที่ 11 - บทที่ 16

The morning after the country club dinner dawned with deceptive calm, sunlight filtering through the mansion's heavy curtains like a false promise of peace. Elena woke in Adrian's bed, her body a map of aches and bruises—sweet reminders of the night's excesses. His arm was draped over her waist, possessive even in sleep, his breath warm against her neck.She slipped out carefully, ignoring the twinge between her thighs where he'd marked her repeatedly. Richard would be up soon, expecting coffee and conversation, oblivious to the fact that his wife had spent the night mere doors away, moaning his son's name.In the kitchen, she moved on autopilot, grinding beans and setting the pot to brew. The scent of fresh coffee filled the air, grounding her in the mundane. But her mind replayed the restroom scene—the raw jealousy in Adrian's eyes, the way he'd fucked the doubt out of her until all she could feel was him.Footsteps echoed down the hall. She tensed, expecting Adrian's smirk or Richa

Richard's overnight trip stretched into a second day—some last-minute negotiation in Abuja that kept him tied up with investors. The delay felt like a gift and a curse. Elena told herself it was mercy, extra hours to breathe, to think, to maybe find the strength to pull back from the abyss. But the truth was crueler: every minute without Richard was another minute Adrian owned her completely.They barely left the master bedroom.By late afternoon the next day, the sheets were ruined—twisted, sweat-soaked, stained with their combined release. Sunlight slanted through half-closed blinds, striping their naked bodies in gold and shadow. Elena lay on her back, legs still trembling from the last round, chest heaving. Adrian knelt between her thighs, eyes dark and ravenous, cock still hard and glistening from being inside her.He hadn't let her rest for more than a few minutes at a time."You’re shaking," he murmured, voice thick with satisfaction as he dragged the swollen head of his cock t

Richard didn’t confront them that night.He didn’t storm down the stairs, didn’t shout, didn’t shatter the fragile illusion with accusations or fists.He simply waited.The next morning unfolded with eerie normalcy. Elena woke to the smell of coffee drifting up from the kitchen—Richard’s ritual, unchanged for years. She dressed carefully: high-neck blouse to hide the fresh bite mark on her collarbone, loose skirt to conceal the faint fingerprints still bruising her hips. Every movement reminded her of Adrian—how he’d bent her over the dining table, how he’d filled her until she could barely stand.Downstairs, Richard sat at the breakfast bar, scrolling through his tablet, face unreadable. Adrian was already there, leaning against the counter in gym shorts and a fitted tank, sipping black coffee, looking every inch the relaxed son of the house.“Morning,” Elena said, voice steadier than she felt.Richard glanced up. “Morning.” His eyes flicked to her neck for half a second—long enough