บททั้งหมดของ Private Sins : A Collection Of Steamy stories (Erotica): บทที่ 61 - บทที่ 70

Cain had been on Ava Rourke’s detail for eleven days before she said it out loud. Eleven days of black SUVs, private elevators, advance checks, and standing outside rooms while she took calls that moved more money than most people saw in a year. She was twenty-seven, precise, used to being obeyed in boardrooms. He was thirty-four, ex-military, hired through her company’s private security branch, and good enough at his job that most clients forgot he was a person. Ava never forgot. She watched him. Not always obviously. In reflections. In the moment before doors opened. In the way her eyes caught on his hands when he took her coat. Cain noticed because noticing was the job. He also noticed because there was nothing subtle about the kind of attention that stayed on a man’s mouth too long. That night, her penthouse was quiet in the way expensive places were quiet — thick glass, soft lighting, the city reduced to a blurred grid far below. Cain finished the final sweep, checked the te

The threat was minor in operational terms and major in the way it got under Cain’s skin. Ava had a late reception at a private gallery downtown — glass walls, too many unsecured entry points, investors who drank like security was decorative. Cain spent the first hour doing what he was paid to do: watching hands, exits, reflections, the man near the side installation who kept checking his phone too often, the woman who drifted too close every time Ava moved. At 9:41 p.m., the man with the phone tried to follow Ava into the restricted corridor toward the service bathrooms. Cain intercepted him before Ava even turned around. It wasn’t dramatic. No drawn weapon. No public scene. Just Cain’s body in the way, a low verbal command, and the kind of grip on the man’s arm that ended the discussion immediately. Gallery security took over after that. The guy claimed he was looking for a restroom. Maybe he was. Maybe he wasn’t. Cain didn’t care which version made anyone else feel better. Ava

By Sunday night the weekend detail had stopped looking like coverage and started looking like a shared address with a gun on the console table. Cain had cleared three off-site meetings, two private dinners, and one last-minute route change through traffic that made no operational sense except that Ava wanted him in the car with her instead of trailing behind in a second vehicle. Nobody from the security branch had called it out yet. That only meant the pattern was waiting for the wrong person to notice it. When they got back to the penthouse, Ava dropped her bag by the sofa and stood in the middle of the room like she had been rehearsing a decision all day. Cain finished the sweep out of habit. Terrace. Bedrooms. Hall. Kitchen. When he came back, she had not moved. “Don’t take the service elevator down tonight,” she said. Cain stopped. “Say what you mean.” Ava’s arms were folded, not defensively, more like she needed somewhere to put her hands. “I mean I’m done dressing this up

Sienna did not go back to the polite side of the house. After the first daybed, her legs were unsteady and her dress felt pointless. She pulled it down for a moment out of habit, then stopped bothering when Nate’s hand slid straight back up her thigh as they moved deeper into the main lounge. Someone offered her water. Roman made her drink it. Dex watched her throat move while she swallowed like that alone was part of the night. “You’re marked already,” Dex said, thumb brushing the corner of her mouth where she had wiped herself clean and still somehow missed the feeling of it. “People can tell.” “Good,” Nate added. “Saves time.” Cole walked behind them without speaking. Roman led. The next room was wider and darker, built around low modular couches and a huge upholstered platform in the center. More bodies here. A man had a woman bent over the arm of a sofa while another waited his turn with his cock in his hand. Two guests on the platform were locked together while a third str

The upstairs lounge was quieter in the way a locked room is quieter. Carpet swallowed their footsteps. The music from below became a dull throb under the floor. One long couch, two low armchairs, a wide ottoman, bottles of water on a sideboard, dim lamps instead of party lighting. No mirrors. No audience. Just enough furniture to hold bodies and enough privacy to make every sound feel intentional. Roman steered Sienna to the couch and put a cold bottle in her hand. “Drink.” She did. Her throat was rough. Her thighs stuck together when she sat. The dress draped around her shoulders still had not made it back onto her body properly, and nobody moved to fix that. Dex stood over her, rolling his shoulders like he was just getting started. “She looks softer up here.” “She is softer up here,” Nate said. “No crowd to perform for.” Cole shut the door. The click was small and final. Sienna lowered the bottle. “If this is a break, it doesn’t feel like one.” Roman took the water from he