Semua Bab EDEN: Steamy Forbidden Pleasures : Bab 31 - Bab 40

~Zoe's POV~ The office lights buzzed faintly overhead, like they were as tired as I was. It was well past midnight in the heart of downtown Atlanta, the city sprawling out below us in a sea of twinkling lights and distant traffic hum. Our firm, Apex Architectural, was gunning for the deal of the century....a multi-billion dollar redevelopment project for the waterfront that could put us on the map or sink us against the competition. Every slide, every financial projection, every damn render had to be perfect. That's why I, Zoe Harlan, was burning the midnight oil with my boss, Elias Grant, the only two souls left in the entire building.I'd been his assistant for three years now, ever since I graduated and clawed my way into this high-stakes world. Elias was the kind of guy who commanded a room without trying...early forties, sharp features, that salt-and-pepper hair always perfectly tousled, and eyes like steel that could dissect a blueprint or make you feel seen in a way that li

~Jaden's POV~ Sweat poured down my face as the final buzzer blared, sealing our 85-72 win over the crosstown rivals. The crowd erupted, girls in the stands screaming my name like I was some rockstar. Jaden Reyes, varsity basketball captain, campus heartthrob...six-foot-three, chiseled from endless gym sessions, with that crooked smile that had half the sorority chasing me. But as my teammates mobbed me on the court, slapping my back and yelling about hitting the bars, my eyes flicked to the sidelines. There he was....Coach Alex Brooks. Arms crossed over his broad chest, that intense green stare locked on me. No one else saw the heat in it, the promise. To them, he was the no nonsense coach in his mid-thirties, built like he could still dunk on us rookies, dark hair messy from pacing, jaw set in that authoritative way. But to me? He was everything. My secret. The one who made my cock hard just by barking orders during practice.The locker room cleared out quick after the post-ga

Trigger warnings ahead: Slut shaming, verbal and physical degradation, foursome (three men, one woman), morally gray characters. ~Odessa's POV~ God, please let me get this job.I whispered a silent prayer, standing in front of the sleek, obsidian glass of the office building complex. This was it. Let’s Talk Radio. A private media house, the biggest name in Atlanta, and the company I’d dreamed about working for since I started my media and communication major four years ago. This job, the radio host position, it was everything. It meant moving out of my tiny, shared apartment, silencing my parents constant nagging, and finally proving that the degree was worth more than the paper it was printed on.I adjusted the lapels of my borrowed blazer...a crisp, professional shade of navy...took a deep, shaky breath, and pushed through the revolving door.The lobby was a cathedral of corporate power: marble floors, high ceilings, and an energy that felt like money and influence. I walked u

I moved between the three of them like a hungry animal, cycling through Kian's thickness, Damon's raw length, and Ethan's polished hardness. My cheeks were slick, my jaw ached, and my throat was raw, but I didn't dare slow down. Every minute felt like a test, every deep, throaty groan from them a score I had to achieve.“Stop, stop the mouth work,” Damon suddenly commanded, his voice gruff. He grabbed my wrist, pulling me up, and I barely had time to wipe my chin before he hauled me over his shoulder, his massive hand covering my ass.“Time for the main event,” he growled, tossing me onto the large, king-sized bed in the center of the room. The silky sheets felt cool beneath my hot skin.Ethan was already there, pulling a black leather belt...not a regular one, but a whip with heavy tassels, from a nearby drawer. Kian, meanwhile, was ripping the maid’s costume off me, the flimsy lace tearing away from my body, leaving me completely naked.“You’ve been a good girl so far, Odessa. But

~Jane's POV~ The fluorescent lights of the office had been flickering like a bad omen all week, casting harsh shadows over my desk where spreadsheets blurred into endless rows of numbers. As Jane Thompson, a 28-year-old marketing coordinator at a cutthroat ad agency, I was no stranger to the grind, but this week hit different. My boss, Mr. Anderson, had been riding me harder than usual...late nights rewriting campaigns, coffee fueled arguments in boardrooms, and emails piling up like accusations. By Thursday, my neck was a steel cable, shoulders screaming, and a dull ache throbbed between my temples. Sleep? A joke. Intimacy? Even funnier. My last date was a disaster three months ago, some guy who fumbled through foreplay like he was defusing a bomb. I needed release, real release, so Friday morning, I booked my standing appointment at Serenity Spa. Mike, my regular masseuse, had hands that could unravel a knot in seconds...strong, intuitive, always leaving me floating. One hour