All Chapters of Forbidden Lust: My Father-in-law: Chapter 61 - Chapter 70

Maya woke up sore. Not the gentle, pleasant ache of a good night. This was deeper. A dull, throbbing reminder between her legs that still pulsed every time she shifted against the sheets. She could feel him—still. The stretch. The bruises blooming on the backs of her thighs where the railing had bitten into her skin. The faint, sticky evidence that he had come inside her and left it there like a brand. She stared at the ceiling of the unfamiliar loft for a long time, one arm thrown over her eyes, trying to convince herself that last night had been a mistake she could simply erase. It wasn’t. Her body knew it. Her cunt was still soft and swollen, sensitive enough that the brush of the sheet made her bite her lip. When she finally dragged herself into the shower, the hot water stung the scrapes on her thighs and the faint crescent marks his fingers had left on her hips. She stood under the spray longer than necessary, fingers drifting down almost against her will, sliding through

Maya told herself she could control it.She lasted exactly six hours and fourteen minutes.The morning after the floor had been a carefully constructed performance. She woke at 5:40 a.m. already aching between her legs, already sticky with the evidence Cass had deliberately left inside her. She stood under a cold shower until her teeth chattered, scrubbed her skin raw, and dressed like she was going into battle: tailored black trousers, a silk blouse buttoned to the throat, blazer structured enough to feel like armor. Hair scraped back. Makeup precise. Every piece of clothing chosen to erase the woman who had shown up at his door at one in the morning with nothing underneath a T-shirt.She took the stairs.All twelve flights.Her thighs burned by the time she reached the lobby. The ache between her legs burned worse. Every step reminded her of how deep he had been, how hard he had fucked her into the hardwood, how he had watched his cum drip out of her and then pushed it back in like

It happened on a Thursday.Maya would remember that later—the ordinary cruelty of it being a Thursday, the way the week had been building toward something neither of them wanted to name. Four nights in a row she had fallen asleep in his bed or he in hers. Four mornings of soft hands that turned vicious. Four days of walking through the world with secret bruises under her clothes and the slow, filthy knowledge that she was still carrying him inside her long after he left.They had stopped pretending it was temporary.They simply refused to talk about what it actually was.That night she came back to the building later than usual, brain still buzzing from a client dinner that had run long. The elevator was empty. She rode it to twelve with her forehead resting against the cool steel wall, already aching in anticipation. When the doors opened she walked straight to his door instead of her own. She didn’t question it anymore. Her body had stopped asking permission days ago.Cass opened be

The night after the conference room felt different from the first second.They didn’t fuck against the door or on the floor or over any piece of furniture that could take the violence of them. Cass locked the door of his loft behind them, took Maya’s face in both hands, and kissed her slowly—deep and searching, like he was trying to memorize the shape of her mouth all over again. There was no rush in it. No anger. Just the quiet, devastating attention of a man who had decided he would not look away this time.Maya’s bag slid off her shoulder and hit the floor with a soft thud. She let him walk her backward through the living room, still kissing her, his hands moving under her blouse in slow strokes up her spine. When the backs of her knees hit the edge of his bed he pulled away just far enough to look at her.The city light through the window painted one side of his face silver. The other stayed in shadow. His eyes were dark and steady and full of something that made her chest ache.“

Maya counted them in her head the way some people count scars.She had stayed.That was the first truth she woke up to on Monday morning, Cass’s arm heavy across her waist, his breath warm against the back of her neck. The second truth was that staying felt more dangerous than leaving ever had. Leaving had been clean, in its way. A suitcase. A closed door. Two years of silence that at least had edges she could lean against. Staying meant waking up every day inside the thing that had already ruined her once and deciding, again, not to run.Cass kissed the hinge of her shoulder before he got up. No words. Just the press of his mouth, lingering long enough that she felt it after he walked into the bathroom. She listened to the water run and stared at the ceiling, wondering how many mornings like this it would take before the fear loosened its grip.They left for work at the same time. In the elevator he stood close enough that the back of his hand brushed hers once, deliberate. When the