All Chapters of Taboo: Ties and Sins : Chapter 231 - Chapter 240

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

The afternoon light came through the tall windows of Hellen’s apartment, filtered by beige linen curtains that softened the late-summer Minas Gerais sun. The bedroom was tidy for the first time in days—clean sheets, the scent of lavender mingling with his woody cologne that still lingered in the air. On the king-size bed, two large pillows propped against the headboard, a blank A4 notepad and a fine-tip black pen. Beside them, two half-empty glasses of red wine and a plate of black grapes, almost untouched.Hellen sat cross-legged, wearing only his white dress shirt—sleeves rolled to the elbows, the top three buttons undone, revealing the valley between her breasts. Jaston lay on his side, naked, head resting on her thigh. His cock rested semi-hard against his stomach, as if it already knew the conversation was about to heat up.She picked up the notepad and pen, wrote the title on the first line in firm, elegant handwriting:Limits, Rules, and Hungers – J & H“Let’s do this properly,

Hellen's phone vibrated on the nightstand while she was taking a shower. It wasn't anything urgent—just a random Instagram notification she didn't even plan to open. But his name appeared on the locked screen: @jaston_oliveira tagged you in a photo. Curious, she quickly dried her hands, entered the password, and opened it.The photo was old. Three years ago, maybe four. Jaston and a woman—tall, with wavy brown hair, a wide smile, and eyes that seemed to know everything. They were on some beach, tanned bodies pressed together, arms wrapped around each other's waists. He was laughing with his head thrown back; she was kissing the corner of his mouth. The ex's caption was simple: “Eternal longing, love. You were the best chapter.” The post date: two days ago. And the worst part: Jaston had liked it. An hour ago.Hellen felt her stomach churn. It wasn't just jealousy—it was pure venom, acidic, burning from her throat to her chest. She dropped the phone as if it burned. She got out of the