Semua Bab Midnight Love: Bab 381 - Bab 390

Marcus left for Singapore on a “last-minute business trip” arranged by his boss. Ten days. He kissed me goodbye at the airport, promising to call every night. I smiled sweetly and told him I’d miss him.The moment his plane took off, Damien’s black Mercedes was waiting in the parking garage.He didn’t take me to the penthouse.He drove me straight to his sprawling private estate just outside the city — a modern mansion with high walls, security cameras, and total privacy. The second we stepped inside the grand foyer, he shoved me against the cold marble wall.“No more hiding,” he growled, ripping my blouse open. Buttons scattered across the floor. “For the next ten days, this body is mine twenty-four seven. You eat when I allow it. You sleep when I allow it. And you come only when I say so.”He dragged me upstairs to the master suite — a massive room with a king bed, a mirrored ceiling, and a large sunken tub visible through glass doors. Damien stripped me completely naked in seconds,

Damien didn’t text me the next day. He sent a black luxury car instead.The driver handed me a small note: “Wear the red dress. No underwear. The yacht is waiting. Your husband thinks you’re at a girls’ night. Don’t disappoint me.”I changed in the car, slipping into the tight crimson dress he had chosen. It was dangerously short, with a plunging neckline that barely contained my breasts and a back so low it exposed my spine. One wrong move and the dress would reveal everything.The car took me to a private marina where a sleek, massive black yacht named *Obsession* waited. Damien stood on the deck in a black shirt and trousers, looking like sin personified. The moment I stepped on board, he dismissed the crew with a single sharp command.“Leave us. No one comes on deck until I say so.”As soon as the crew disappeared below deck, Damien grabbed me by the waist and pulled me flush against him. His mouth crashed down on mine in a possessive, bruising kiss. His hands roamed greedily ov

Sunlight poured through the floor-to-ceiling glass walls of the overwater villa, turning the ocean into liquid sapphire. I woke up tangled between two warm, hard bodies, my muscles deliciously sore in the most sinful places.Kai was behind me, his muscular chest pressed against my back, one heavy arm draped possessively over my waist. Kael lay in front of me, his face inches from mine, emerald eyes already open and watching me with dark amusement.“Morning, beautiful,” Kael murmured, his voice husky with sleep and lust. His fingers traced lazy circles over my bare hip.Kai’s hand slid lower, cupping my ass and squeezing firmly. “How does it feel waking up between two men who spent half the night ruining you?”Heat rushed to my face as memories flooded back — their mouths, their hands, the overwhelming sensation of both of them inside me at the same time. My pussy and ass still ached from how thoroughly they had used me.“I… I can barely move,” I admitted, my voice raspy.Kael chuckled

The invitation came on heavy black cardstock with gold embossing: a private viewing at the Rossi Gallery in Mayfair, closed to the public. Only a select few were invited — collectors, critics, and the inner circle of the art world.I was told to wear something elegant but accessible.I chose a deep burgundy velvet gown with a halter neck and a long slit up the side. Underneath, as per their instructions, I wore nothing at all.The gallery was dimly lit and intimate when we arrived. Soft jazz played in the background, and expensive champagne flowed. But the real art wasn’t on the walls tonight.It was the three of us.Alessandro, Matteo, and Luca moved through the room like kings, introducing me as their exclusive curator and companion. Their hands never strayed far — a possessive touch on my lower back, fingers brushing my thigh through the slit, a kiss pressed to my bare shoulder.Halfway through the evening, Alessandro pulled me into a private side gallery filled with provocative sc

Venice at night was pure magic — golden lights reflecting on the canals, the distant sound of gondolas, and the whisper of ancient secrets in the air. The Rossi triplets had brought me here for the exclusive Masquerade Ball held in a historic palazzo on the Grand Canal.The invitation was clear: masks were mandatory, identities optional.My gown was a masterpiece of sin — deep midnight blue silk with a corseted bodice that pushed my breasts up dramatically and a flowing skirt with a high slit. A matching sapphire mask covered the upper half of my face, leaving my lips and jaw exposed. Underneath, as always, I wore nothing.Alessandro, Matteo, and Luca looked devastating in tailored black tuxedos and matching dark masks that only accentuated their sharp jawlines and piercing hazel eyes.The moment we stepped into the opulent ballroom, the atmosphere felt charged. Music swirled, bodies moved in elegant masks, and the air was thick with forbidden possibility.The triplets kept me close,