All Chapters of Sinful Whispers: A Collection of Forbidden Tales: Chapter 61 - Chapter 70

Daniel moved first.He yanked his shorts up, grabbed my clothes off the floor, and pushed them into my hands.“Upstairs. Go.”I ran. My legs still felt weak and I could feel him leaking down my thighs with every step. I made it into the guest room and shut the door just as the front door opened downstairs. Maya’s voice carried up the stairs, tired and casual. Daniel answered her like nothing had happened. I cleaned up as quietly as I could, changed, and sat on the bed until the house went still again.Morning felt almost normal.Maya made coffee in one of Daniel’s old shirts and talked about Jake’s parents. Daniel moved around the kitchen without looking at me longer than necessary. When she announced she was spending the whole day on the boat with Jake, something tight settled low in my stomach.They left a little after ten. I stood at the window and watched the truck disappear. When I turned around Daniel was already in the doorway.He didn’t say anything. He just walked over, backe

Maya left early.She and Jake had plans across the lake—some brunch thing with his cousins. She kissed my cheek in the kitchen, told me not to leave before she got back, and disappeared out the door with wet hair and a half-eaten piece of toast in her hand. The truck engine faded down the driveway. Then the house went quiet in that particular way it only did when it was just the two of us.Daniel was already watching me from the doorway of the kitchen.I set my coffee down. He crossed the room, backed me against the counter, and kissed me slow at first—like he was giving me one last chance to change my mind. I didn’t. My hands slid under his shirt. His fingers found the waistband of my shorts and pushed them down over my hips. I stepped out of them without breaking the kiss.He lifted me onto the counter. The surface was cool under my bare ass. He shoved his own shorts down, rubbed the head of his cock through the wetness between my legs, and pushed in with one long, deep thrust. The

Freya almost didn’t go back. She spent the week telling herself it had been a one-time mistake. A strange, filthy night she could put behind her. But every time she sat at her desk and glanced toward Callum’s office, her body remembered. The way he’d held her open. The slow, thorough way he’d licked her. How full she’d felt when he finally pushed inside. By Thursday the second black card was already in her bag again. She took a different cab this time. The same woman checked her in, handed her a new blindfold, and pointed down the hall. “Room three,” she said. “He’s waiting.” Freya tied the blindfold tighter than before. Her hands were steadier, but her pulse wasn’t. The door opened. Someone guided her inside. The lock clicked. Silence. Then his voice, closer than last time. “You came back.” She swallowed. “Yes.” “Good.” He didn’t tell her to undress. He just started doing it for her. Fingers at the zipper of her dress, slow, deliberate. The fabric slid off her shoulders a

Freya didn’t go back to the club that Friday. She didn’t need to. Callum texted her at 7:12 p.m. from a number she didn’t recognise. *My place. 8:30. Door code is 1947. Wife is gone until Sunday.* She stared at the message for a long time. Her first instinct was to delete it. Her second was to reply that she wasn’t coming. Instead she got dressed, left her apartment, and took a cab across the city. The building was the kind of quiet, expensive place that had a doorman who didn’t ask questions. She entered the code. The elevator took her to the twenty-third floor. When the doors opened, Callum was already standing in the hallway, still in his work shirt with the sleeves rolled up. He didn’t say hello. He just stepped back so she could walk past him into the apartment. The place was all glass and dark wood and city lights. A large open kitchen. A long dining table. Floor-to-ceiling windows that looked out over the river. Freya stood in the middle of the living room with her bag

The office was quiet in that late-afternoon way that always made the clock feel slower. Most people had already started packing up. Mira stayed at her desk longer than she needed to, finishing a report she could have left until morning. She told herself it was just focus. Really, she was avoiding the walk past her boss’s office. Mr. Harlan had been watching her more than usual the past few weeks. Standing too close when he checked her screen. Finding reasons to lean over her shoulder. Commenting on her clothes in a way that never quite crossed the line but always left her skin crawling afterward. She stood up, smoothed her skirt, and walked toward the hallway bathroom. The corridor was empty. She pushed the door open, locked the single stall, and started to unfasten her skirt so she could pee. The outer bathroom door opened. Heavy footsteps. Then the lock on the main door clicked. Mira froze with her hands still on her waistband. “Mr. Harlan?” Her voice came out tighter than sh