All Chapters of Forbidden taste of pleasure: A taboo collection : Chapter 51 - Chapter 60

The rain had started sometime around two in the morning, streaking the floor to ceiling windows of Suite 1804 with long, shimmering rivers. Beyond the glass, the city had dissolved into a blur of gold and blue, its familiar skyline swallowed by the storm. The streets below were nearly empty, the restless world reduced to distant headlights and the occasional flash of lightning. They had returned from The Obsidian in the dead of night, slipping through the private garage entrance without encountering a single soul. No reporters, no colleagues, no curious strangers. Just the three of them, disappearing into the penthouse as though they had crossed some invisible boundary between the lives they once knew and the one they had chosen. Now, in the pale blue-grey light of Sunday morning, Julian lay sprawled across the center of the enormous king-sized bed, surrounded by dark silk sheets that had twisted into untidy folds during the night. His hair was a mess, his skin warm, and his body

Monday morning arrived without an alarm. For the first time in twelve years, eight o’clock came and went without Julian reaching for his phone in a panic. There were no unread emails demanding his attention, no conference calls he was already late for, and no board members waiting to tear apart his decisions. The world had continued spinning without his supervision, and strangely enough, it had not fallen apart. Sunlight streamed through the floor-to-ceiling windows of the 4th Street loft, spilling across the exposed brick walls and polished concrete floors. Outside, the city was already awake, its streets crowded with people rushing toward offices, meetings, and deadlines. Inside, however, the morning moved at a gentler pace. Julian sat curled into the corner of the dark velvet sectional, wrapped in a heavy grey throw. His hair was still slightly messy from sleep, and a ceramic mug rested between his palms. He watched the steam rise from his coffee, wondering when he had last all

Inside the suite, the atmosphere was warm, quiet, and strangely thick with peace. Julian sat on the edge of the leather sofa, wrapped in a plush white hotel robe that pooled loosely around his frame. He cradled a mug of black coffee between his palms, letting the warmth bleed into his stiff fingers. Beside him, his laptop sat open on the cushion, its soft screen light illuminating the thoughtful quiet of his face. For once, the sight of a laptop didn't trigger that familiar, sickening spike of anxiety. There were no frantic spreadsheets, no complex financial models demanding immediate attention, and no relentless stream of emails from executives who viewed every second of his life as their personal property. Instead, a blank document sat open, its header bearing the address of a Fourth Street loft. Below it lay a draft lease agreement he had been quietly parsing for the past twenty minutes. It was a modest step, but it carried seismic weight. Freedom. His body still thro

Zara’s hand remained wrapped tightly around mine as we stepped out into the cool night air.I took a deep breath, letting the chill clear the lingering fog of alcohol and heavy bass in my head. Behind us, the muffled thrum of the nightclub’s music faded into the background, replaced by the quiet hum of the sleeping city.I turned to look at the woman beside me.She was smiling not the playful, teasing grin she’d worn inside the club, but something softer. Intimate. It made me wonder if she was feeling the same sudden, quiet pull that I was.“So,” she said, breaking the stillness. “Are you always this adventurous?”I raised an eyebrow. “What exactly have I done that counts as adventurous?”“You kissed a complete stranger.”“You’re not a stranger anymore. I know your name.”Zara let out a soft laugh. “That’s all it takes?”“Depends on the woman.”She took a step closer, her fingers lightly brushing against my palm. “And what does it take with me?”I let my eyes linger on her lips for a

The following evening, I stood pinned in front of my bedroom mirror, my fingers trembling slightly as I second-guessed every detail of my appearance. It was absurd. I had spent twenty minutes debating earrings, swapped my dress twice, and restyled my hair three times all for a woman I had met only forty-eight hours ago. Worse, I had played it off with casual indifference when she asked to see me again.I reached for my favorite perfume, misting a fine cloud against my pulse points before turning to inspect my reflection.The burgundy dress clung to my curves like a second skin, stopping just mid-thigh, paired with obsidian heels that arched my posture into something predatory and sharp. My dark hair fell in heavy waves over my shoulders, and my makeup was understated yet deliberate—the kind of look that whispered effortlessness while screaming intent.At least, I hope so, I thought.My phone buzzed sharply against the glass dressing table.Zara: Are you ready, beautiful?A reflex smil