All Chapters of Taboo: Ties and Sins : Chapter 231 - Chapter 236

The smell of freshly brewed coffee invaded the apartment like a promise of normalcy—but for Hellen, that morning had nothing normal about it. It was a continuation. It was the warm residue between her thighs, lips still marked by Jaston’s voracious kisses, skin sensitive where his teeth had left soft impressions. She rose from the bed naked, unhurried, unashamed. Her bare feet touched the cold floorboards, sending a shiver up her legs that settled in her belly. Her entire body still radiated sex: sticky thighs, heavy breasts, swollen lips from so much biting and being bitten.She walked down the hallway in silence, her tangled hair falling in wild waves over her shoulders. She stopped at the kitchen threshold and simply watched.Jaston had his back to her, naked. He moved around the stove with an almost obscene naturalness—the muscles of his back contracting with each arm movement, his firm ass shifting slightly as he adjusted the flame. Morning light poured through the window above t

The room was bathed in a soft twilight, the kind of light that an autumn afternoon filtered through thin linen curtains. The sun had already passed its zenith but still insisted on slipping in, painting golden stripes across the wooden floor and the rumpled sheets. The air carried the lingering scent of everything that had happened there: fresh sweat, intense sex, the faint musk of heated skin, a trace of cold coffee from the distant kitchen. Their breaths, once ragged and urgent, now settled into a shared, almost synchronized rhythm.Hellen lay on her side, her body pressed against Jaston’s back. One of her legs was entwined with his, her arm wrapped around his waist as if to keep him from vanishing. Their skin was still warm, damp in places, marked by red imprints that would fade in a few hours—but in that moment, they felt like temporary tattoos of mutual possession. Jaston held her hand against his own chest, their fingers interlaced, his thumb tracing slow circles in her open pal

The afternoon was too hot for Minas Gerais in February, the still, humid air clinging to the skin like a second layer. Hellen drove with one hand on the wheel and the other drumming on the gearshift, her light cotton floral dress riding up her thighs every time she changed gears. The radio played low, an old MPB song she barely heard. Her mind was elsewhere: at the bar the night before, on the image of Jaston leaning over the counter, laughing with a curly-haired brunette in red lipstick who touched his arm as if she already had the right.She hadn’t said anything at the time. Just finished her drink, left money on the table, and walked out. But the image burned in the back of her mind—a raw, unexpected jealousy that caught her off guard. Hellen wasn’t jealous. Or at least she never had been. Not until Jaston.Her phone buzzed in the holder. A message from him.“Already left work?”She typed quickly without stopping the car.“Heading to the underground parking. 5 minutes.”“I’m waitin