All Chapters of Sinful Whispers: A Collection of Forbidden Tales: Chapter 51 - Chapter 60

Lila pulled the curtain back. Roman stood at his own window across the courtyard. Shirtless. Jeans still open from earlier. He held his phone in one hand and looked straight at her. He typed something. Her phone buzzed again. Roman: Come over. Now. She didn’t answer. She just dropped the curtain, grabbed her keys, and left her apartment barefoot. The hallway was almost silent. She stopped in front of his door and knocked once. He opened it immediately. Roman stepped aside. Lila walked in. The door shut behind her and the lock turned. He said nothing at first. His gaze traveled over her — oversized hoodie, soft shorts, no bra, hair still messy from earlier. Then he reached out, hooked two fingers in the waistband of her shorts, and pulled her forward until her chest hit his. “You came fast.” “You told me to.” “I know.” He walked her backward until her calves hit the arm of the couch. The same couch. “Clothes off.” Lila pulled the hoodie over her head and dropped it. Her sh

Roman pushed into her from behind without warning. Lila was still half-asleep, body warm under the sheet, when the thick head of his cock stretched her open again. He moved slow at first, one arm wrapped around her waist, the other hand resting between her legs so he could feel himself sliding in and out of her. “You’re already wet,” he murmured against the back of her neck. “Been waiting for this.” She pushed back against him, and he responded by thrusting deeper, the angle making every stroke drag against the sensitive spot inside her. The bed creaked softly. Morning light filtered through the open blinds, bright enough that anyone looking up from the courtyard would see the shape of them under the sheet. Roman pulled the sheet down to their hips. Cool air touched her skin. He kept fucking her in long, steady strokes while his fingers found her clit and rubbed slow circles. “You’re going to cum like this,” he said. “Quiet. Then I’m going to flip you over and do it again.” The

Maya’s POV I turned the key slowly so it wouldn’t click. Elias’s apartment smelled the same as always—clean laundry and the faint trace of his cologne that stayed on the couch even when he wasn’t around. I closed the door and stood still for a second, listening. No sound from the bedroom. No water running. Just the fridge humming. Three weeks. That was how long this had been going on. Three weeks since the night I got too drunk at my brother’s place and Elias walked me home. One thing turned into another, and now I had a key. I dropped my bag by the shoe rack and walked in further. The living room was dark, but the lamp in the bedroom was on. A thin strip of light cut across the floor. He was home. I should have texted first. That was the rule we never said out loud but both followed. I didn’t. He was sitting on the edge of the bed in a black t-shirt and sweatpants, phone in his hand. When he looked up, he didn’t look surprised. Just quiet. “You’re early,” he said. “My

I woke up to Elias’s hand on my stomach. Morning light came through the blinds. His chest was warm against my back. He was already awake. “You stayed,” he said, voice rough. “You asked me to.” His hand slid lower, resting just above my jeans. We stayed quiet for a while. “I should go soon,” I said. “Not yet.” He rolled me onto my back and kissed me. Slow at first, then deeper. His hand pushed under my shirt and cupped my breast. I arched into him. He made a low sound and kept kissing me while he pulled the shirt off. I pushed at his sweatpants. He kicked them away. Then he dragged my jeans and underwear down together. When I was bare he settled between my legs. He rubbed the head of his cock against me, slow, coating himself in how wet I already was. Then he pushed in. The stretch made me gasp. He gave me a second before sliding the rest of the way. We both went still. He started in missionary—deep, steady thrusts, his weight on his forearms so he could watch my face. Every

The airport was loud and bright. My brother walked out of the arrivals gate with his bag over one shoulder and a tired grin. Elias stood beside me. We both smiled like nothing was wrong. “Missed you two,” my brother said, pulling me into a quick hug, then clapping Elias on the back. We drove him home. The whole way I kept my hands in my lap and my eyes on the road. Elias answered questions about work. I answered questions about my shifts. My brother talked about the trip. None of it felt real. After we dropped him off and helped carry his bags inside, Elias looked at me in the hallway while my brother was in the bathroom. “Tonight,” he said quietly. I nodded. I went back to Elias’s place just after ten. The second the door closed he was on me. No talking. Just mouths and hands and the sound of clothes hitting the floor. He pushed me onto the bed and climbed on top. Missionary first—hard, deep thrusts that made the headboard knock the wall. I wrapped my legs around him and to