All Chapters of SIN SO SWEET : Chapter 101 - Chapter 110

The power went off at 6:42 p.m. on a Thursday evening.One second, the office was buzzing, printers whirring, keyboards clacking, and fluorescent lights steady overhead. The next things… nothing. Darkness. A collective groan from every floor. Then the emergency lights kicked on, dim red strips along the baseboards, casting everything in bloody shadows.I was in the east elevator with Dom.We were heading down together after a late client call. He was carrying the presentation binder, and I was with my laptop bag slung over one shoulder. The doors had just closed when the lights died, and the car halted to a stop between floors 14 and 15.A soft, mechanical voice crackled through the speaker.“Power interruption detected. Assistance is on the way. Please stay calm.”Dom exhaled through his nose… annoyed, but not panicked. He set the binder down and pulled out his phone with zero bars. Of course.I shifted my weight. The emergency light painted his face… jaw tight, eyes dark. He looked a

On Friday morning, I called the office to give an excuse to be absent from work. Dom and I had other plans.“You sure it isn't something you can work from home?” HR voice sounded worried.“No.” I replied in a tiny voice.She hung up. I danced around my apartment, it was going to be a great weekend.Friday afternoon traffic crawled while Dom drove us north out of the city. The “work retreat” excuse had been easy… client off-site brainstorming, just the two of us, no team, no witnesses. I packed light: one overnight bag, the black lace lingerie set he bought for me last month, and nothing else he hadn’t explicitly approved.He didn’t say much during the drive. He rested his hand on my thigh the whole time, high enough that his pinky brushed the edge of my panties every few miles, and each time, the car hit a bump. Every time I shifted, he squeezed my thigh, a warning. I stayed still after that.The cabin sat at the end of a gravel road… timber frame, wraparound porch, and lake view t

The week had dragged me through hell and back. Three all-nighters in a row left my eyes gritty and my hands shaky from too much coffee. The client meltdown happened Wednesday afternoon—some VP screaming in the conference room because the new brand palette “felt too millennial” and “not premium enough.” Dom stood at the head of the table, arms crossed, voice low and lethal, promising revisions by Friday morning. He didn’t raise his voice once. He didn’t have to. Everyone in the room still flinched.After the call ended, he’d pulled me into the supply closet down the hall. Locked the door and turned off the lights. Then he pinned me against the shelves of printer paper and shoved my skirt up. Fingers inside me, his mouth on my neck, edging me until I was shaking and begging. Then he stopped and pulled his hand away. Kissed my forehead. He told me, “Not yet, Princess. Save it for me later.” I walked out of there throbbing, wet panties sticking to my skin, trying to look normal while the

Riley’s POVIt's Sunday, 4:47 p.m. The last day of the Prayer festival. Everyone was either blissed out, blackout drunk, or feral. The main stage bass was a living thing — it thumped through the ground, up my legs, into my ribcage like a second heartbeat. I’d been holding it for hours, not just pee. The kind of need that makes your thighs clench and your stomach cramp. I waited too long because the lines were insane and I was stupidly dancing instead of planning. Now, it was an emergency level.I pushed through the crowd, sticky skin brushing mine, someone’s elbow in my ribs, a girl screaming lyrics into her friend’s face. My tank top clung to my back, sweat trickling between my breasts, down my spine. My denim cutoffs were damp at the waistband.Finally, I stood in front of the porta-potty village. A grid of blue plastic units, half of them marked “OUT OF ORDER” with Sharpie graffiti and dried vomit streaks. The line snaked forever… some drunk guy pissing on trees, girls squat

Riley’s POV James texted me he was in town. We've been friends since we were fourteen, and I punched a boy in the mouth for laughing at his too-big school uniform. That was eleven years ago. Now we’re both twenty-five, still stupidly close, still finishing each other’s sentences, and pretending the way we look at each other doesn’t mean anything.We came to this beach town for three days because he said he needed “salt air to clean out the bullshit.” I didn’t argue. I never argue when he wants something. I just pack a bag and follow.It’s our last evening. Most people had left only a few stragglers walk far down the shore, tiny against the waves. We’re sitting on the big flat rock we claimed yesterday, towels spread out, cooler half-empty between us. I was in a tiny black bikini top and the high-cut bottoms that show the smooth dip of my hips. I noticed he's been trying not to stare. And he's been failing.“You’re quiet tonight,” I said, kicking sand off my foot.“Am I?”“Yeah. You