บททั้งหมดของ Taboo: Ties and Sins : บทที่ 61 - บทที่ 70

Zoey took the first step with bare feet, feeling the smooth, almost warm floor beneath her soles. It was as if the building had skin, was pulsing beneath her. Victor had left his wine glass on a built-in shelf and now walked ahead, silent, elegant as a shadow that knew every inch of that place."Keep following me," he said, without turning. "And try not to look only with your eyes."The phrase sounded almost like a challenge. Zoey lifted her chin and quickened her pace.The corridor leading out of the red room was narrow, wrapped in a red and amber gloom that seemed to breathe with her. On the walls, sensual sculptures framed the path, bodies sculpted from marble and iron, curved in poses of pleasure, pain, and surrender. Some were explicit: a woman with her arms bound by thin cuffs, her body arched back in a frozen orgasm. Others, mere suggestions: two torsos entwined without faces, as if desire had no identity.Zoey couldn't deny that it stirred something in her. The environment see

Zoey awoke with the sensation of being wrapped in velvet. The sheet against her skin was soft, almost too warm, and the scent of melted wax and leather still filled the air as if the night before had been just a prelude. For a moment, she didn’t know where she was. Then she remembered—the touch of silk, the blindfold, his tongue, the orgasm that shook her soul.And Victor.She turned slowly in the four-poster bed, looking for him. The red room was silent, bathed in a new, diffuse light. The candles had been extinguished, but a soft brightness came from a gap high on the wall. He was not there. But beside her, on the pillow, rested a handwritten note."Get dressed. Come to me. I want more than your body."There was something unsettling in that phrase. It wasn't just sensual. It was intimate, demanding, almost brutal. Zoey took a deep breath, feeling her body still sensitive. Every inch seemed to hold the memory of the night before.She rose slowly, still nude. She found one of his whit

The room was still a sanctuary. The world outside seemed to have vanished, swallowed by the slow-burning candles around what remained of them. Skin on skin. The scent of sweat and oil. The sound of intertwined breaths.Zoey was sitting astride Victor's thighs, their bodies still glued together from the previous round, their hearts beating out of sync. He held her with his arms, his fingers tracing soft patterns on her back, as if he never wanted to forget her."What is this between us?" she murmured, her head resting on his shoulder."It's thirst," he answered. "And you haven't named yours yet."She smiled against his skin."What if it's insatiable?"Victor leaned in and kissed her forehead, then her chin, then the corner of her mouth."Then burn with me."Zoey looked at him. His gaze was different now. There was still desire, but along with it came something denser. A conscious surrender. As if, after being explored, stripped, and worshipped, she wanted to reciprocate. Not out of obl

The light in the gallery was soft, diffuse, as if it didn't want to overshadow the artworks or the attentive eyes scanning them. Alys moved among the guests with the confidence of someone who knew every inch of the space, every brushstroke of the exhibited paintings. It was her third solo curation, but perhaps the boldest. The exhibition's theme was direct, provocative: "Skin as a Boundary."Photographs, sculptures, paintings, and interactive installations revolved around touch—its power, its absence, its memory. Alys believed the body had memory, that skin recorded stories like parchment. And that night, she wanted to see the reactions, observe the glances, measure the intensity of restrained smiles or the blushes born before the most intimate works.She wore a minimalist yet elegant black tailored suit. The fabric embraced her body discreetly, revealing more through her movements than through its cut. Hair in a low bun, subtle makeup. Alys liked to maintain control—over her image, h

Theo’s studio was in an old red-brick building, hidden at the end of a narrow street. They climbed two flights of stairs in silence, their steps echoing against the walls. With each step, Alys felt her body grow more awake. It wasn’t fear. It was the exact tension that precedes touch—that thin line between desire and vertigo.Theo unlocked the door and pushed it open with his shoulder. The interior was plunged into a warm twilight. Amber lamps hung from the ceiling, casting soft shadows over the objects: a dark leather sofa, heavy curtains, a tripod with a camera, a table with film canisters, fabrics, thin leather straps... and a hanger with a white shirt on it. Just the shirt.Alys stopped on the threshold, observing everything in silence."Close the door," Theo said, without looking back. He was already walking to a counter where he turned on another, more intimate side light. "We don’t want the world intruding now."She obeyed, her hands slightly trembling. When she turned, he was