All Chapters of TWISTED OBESSION: MY FIANCE CHEATED SO I SLEPT WITH HIS BOSS: Chapter 51 - Chapter 60

ELARA  "Starting now." He takes a shaky breath. "Starting right now. I won't come to your apartment. I won't even show my face at the office. I won't track you or monitor you or insert myself into your life. You want space? Real space? You have it."I want to believe him. God, I want to believe him.But I've heard promises before."What about yesterday?" I ask. "What about the fact that we just proved we can't maintain boundaries around each other?""Yesterday proved I can't maintain boundaries around you," he corrects. "Y

ELARA"Liar." His hand slides between my thighs, finding me already wet. "Your pussy tells me everything I need to know. You've been desperate for me, haven't you?"I whimper as his fingers circle my clit."Say it," he demands. "Say you've been desperate for my cock.""I've been desperate," I gasp. "So desperate. I can't sleep, can't think, can't function...""Good." He lifts me, and my legs wrap around his waist automatically. "Because I'm about to fuck you so hard you forget why you ever thought you could stay away."He carries me to my bedroom...my small, modest bedroom that's nothing like his penthouse...and throws me on the bed.My robe falls open. And he stands over me, his eyes raking over every inch of exposed skin like he's starving."Three days," he repeats, stripping off his jacket. "You have made me wait for three days.""You agreed to give me space...""And I did." His tie comes off next. "Didn't contact you. Didn't show up. Gave you your precious independence. But now you

ELARA I wake up to sunlight streaming through my bedroom window and a heavy arm draped across my waist. For a moment, I'm disoriented. This is my apartment. My small, modest bedroom with the IKEA furniture and the slightly crooked ceiling fan. But the arm across my waist is pure Damien Cross—muscular, possessive, claiming me even in sleep. He stayed. We didn't discuss it. Didn't negotiate whether this "space with benefits" arrangement included sleepovers. But apparently, he decided for both of us. I should be annoyed. Should push him away and remind him that this was supposed to be about my independence, but after last night and these early morning I really do not want to. Instead, I sink back into his warmth, letting myself have this moment of pretending everything is normal. "You're awake," his voice rumbles against my neck. "How long hav

ELARAI lean against the cool tile wall, spreading my legs wider. I dip my fingers inside my pussy...putting in two at first, then three...stretching myself the way he does. The burn is delicious, but not enough. Never been enough. I pump them slow, then faster, curling to hit that spot that makes my breath hitch. My thumb grinds my clit in tight, ruthless circles.Water pounds my back, hot and relentless, matching the rhythm building inside me. I bite my lip to stay quiet, but moans slip out anyway...wet, needy sounds that are swallowed by steam. I can hear his voice in my ear: Good girl. Take what you need. But it’s not his fingers or his cock that is inside me, and the emptiness gnaws at me even as pleasure coils tighter.My release is hard and hot on my fingers, my walls clenching around my fingers, and a sharp cry tears from my throat. Hot pulses ripple through me, my thighs are quaking, and water mixes with my release as it drips down my legs.But the orgasm is shallow, quick, a

ELARA Two weeks. Fourteen days since our text exchange. Fourteen days of continued space, continued independence, and most importantly, continued torture. But something is different We text now. Not constantly or obsessively. But regularly. Small check-ins that keep us connected without consuming our days How was your day? Thinking of you. Sleep well. Simple messages that somehow make the space bearable. I'm at my desk on a Wednesday afternoon when my body decides it's had enough. It has been showing me signs of withdrawal, but I'm too stubborn to believe that I... that I, who was once a virgin, am now obsessed and addicted to sex and, most importantly, to Damien's cock. It starts as a low ache between my thighs. Nothing unusual—I've been dealing with constant arousal for weeks now. But this time, it builds differently. It is faster and more intense. Until I'm shifting in my chair, looking to create a dull friction with my thighs clenched, trying desperately to