All Chapters of TILL SIN DO US APART: A TABOO TALE OF LUST AND DESIRE: Chapter 21 - Chapter 30

THE NEIGHBOR’S POOL 3MILA’S POV The days blur into a secret rhythm after that midnight dip.Gabriel tries to resist at first—mornings where he keeps his office blinds closed, evenings where he mows his lawn with headphones on, avoiding my gaze when we pass on the sidewalk. But I see the cracks: the way he pauses at his window when I’m out by the pool in the afternoons, the lingering glances when I “accidentally” bend over to pick something up, wearing the tiniest bikinis I own.I don’t push too hard. I let the tension build, teasing him with glimpses—a flash of side-boob when I adjust my top, a slow application of sunscreen on my thighs while lying on my stomach, knowing he’s watching. The air between our houses feels charged, like the moments before a thunderstorm.By the end of the week, the heat wave peaks—record temperatures, the kind where the pool water feels like bathwater even at night. My parents announce they’re heading to the cabin up north for the weekend, leaving Frida

FORBIDDEN HEAT 2 SIENNA’S POV The next morning, I wake tangled in sweat-damp sheets, my body still humming from the night before. My skin feels too tight, every brush of fabric against my nipples or thighs sending sparks straight to my core. The ache Ronan left me with hasn’t faded—it’s worse. Sharper. A constant throb that makes me squeeze my legs together just to ease it a fraction.Mara, the pack’s healer, came to my room last night as promised. She gave me herbs to dull the heat, cool cloths, and soft words about patience. But her eyes held pity. “First heats are brutal for latents,” she said. “Especially when there’s a mate involved.” She didn’t say his name, but we both knew.I shower long and cold, trying to wash away his scent that still clings to my skin—pine, musk, raw male. It doesn’t help. When I close my eyes, I feel his mouth on mine, his fingers stroking me, stopping just before I fell apart.By afternoon, the restlessness is unbearable. I need air. Movement. Anythin

THE WEDDING GUEST ISABELLA & LUCA ISABELLA’S POV The vineyard resort sprawls across rolling hills, rows of grapevines glowing golden under the late-afternoon sun. Fairy lights twinkle along the pergola where tomorrow’s ceremony will take place, and the air smells like crushed grapes, jasmine, and summer promise. It’s the perfect setting for my cousin Sofia’s wedding, and as maid of honor, I’ve been running around all day—final dress fittings, seating charts, making sure the bridesmaids don’t kill each other over hair and makeup.But from the moment I arrived yesterday, my attention keeps drifting to him.Luca Moretti. The groom’s older brother. Best man.He’s forty, widowed two years ago. Sofia told me the story quietly, how his wife died suddenly of an aneurysm, leaving him with a teenage daughter he now raises alone. He owns a chain of upscale Italian restaurants in the city, the kind with Michelin stars and waiting lists. Tall, broad-shouldered, with dark hair that curls sligh

THE WEDDING GUEST 3ISABELLA’S POV The reception is in full swing—music pulsing through the vineyard’s grand hall, laughter echoing off the high ceilings, fairy lights twinkling like stars. Sofia and her new husband share their first dance, surrounded by family and friends. I stand at the edge of the crowd in my emerald maid of honor gown, the silk clinging to my curves, my hair swept up to expose my neck. I feel his eyes on me before I see him.Luca stands near the bar, drink in hand, watching me across the room. His tuxedo fits him perfectly—black jacket hugging his broad shoulders, his white shirt crisp against his tanned skin. His gaze is dark, predatory, like he’s been starving all day. My teasing worked. The brunch foot play, the photo brushes, the dinner hand job under the table—he’s at his limit.I smile innocently, sipping my champagne, then turn and slip out a side door into the cool night air. The vineyard paths are lit softly, leading to the old wine cellar beneath the m

COACH’S DAUGHTER 2RILEY’S POV The kitchen counter is cold against my bare thighs as I sit there, my legs dangling, my heart still racing from Declan’s mouth on me. The taste of him lingers on my tongue from that brief moment I had him in my hand, salt and heat. Cum drips slowly from me, warm and sticky, pooling on the granite beneath me. The house is silent except for our heavy breathing and the distant tick of the wall clock.Declan stands between my legs, his sweats pushed low on his hips, his cock still half-hard and glistening. His gray eyes lock on mine, intense, and conflicted, but burning with want. Sweat beads plastered on his forehead, his dark hair tousled from my fingers.He reaches for a dish towel, wetting it under the faucet, then gently cleans between my thighs. The cool cloth makes me shiver, but his touch is tender, almost reverent.“We shouldn’t have done that,” he says quietly, his voice rough.I catch his wrist, holding the towel in place. “But we did. And I wa