Tous les chapitres de : Chapitre 31 - Chapitre 40

CASSIAN POVI locked the door.The soft click sounded final in the quiet office. For a moment neither of us moved. Vespera stood near her desk, watching me with that same cool, assessing expression she used in meetings when she was deciding whether someone was worth her time. The difference was the air. It felt thicker now. Charged.“Come here,” she said.Two words. No volume behind them. I still felt them land low in my stomach.I walked toward her. Every step made me aware of how empty the floor was, how late it had gotten, how irreversible this already felt. When I stopped in front of her she didn’t step back. She simply looked at me, head tilted slightly, as if I were a problem she had decided to solve personally.“You’ve spent months looking at me like that,” she said quietly. “In meetings. Across the open floor. When you think I’m not paying attention. Did you believe I wouldn’t notice?”I swallowed. “I didn’t realize I was that obvious.”“You were.” She reached up and loosened

CASSIAN POVI arrived at 6:41 a.m.The revised forecast was already in her inbox. Clean shirt. Dark trousers. No evidence on the surface that I had spent the night hard and aching, obeying a rule no one else in the building knew existed. The skin on the back of my thighs still felt tight every time I sat down. Every shift in my chair sent a quiet reminder of the paddle.The morning call started at eight.Vespera ran it the way she always did — precise, cold, intolerant of fluff. I kept my eyes on my notes and answered when spoken to. Once, only once, her gaze landed on me across the conference table while someone else was mid-sentence. The look lasted less than a second. It still made my cock twitch under the table like she had reached down and touched me.When the call ended, people filtered out. I stayed seated until the room emptied. Then I stood, gathered my laptop, and walked the long glass hallway to her office.The door was open.She sat behind the desk in a black dress that lo

CASSIAN POVThe afternoon was torture measured in fifteen-minute increments.I sat at my desk with my trousers scraping every welt she had left on my thighs. No underwear meant every shift, every time I leaned forward to type, the fabric dragged over sensitive skin and over the cock that refused to go down. I kept my chair pulled in as far as it would go. I answered emails in short, careful sentences. I avoided standing whenever possible.At 2:17 a.m colleague stopped by to ask about a shared client file. I nodded, spoke normally, and prayed he wouldn’t look down. He didn’t. When he left I exhaled so hard my vision spotted.Every time I glanced toward the glass wall of her office she was there — on calls, typing, turning a pen between her fingers. Once she stood and walked to the window. The line of her back in that black dress made my mouth go dry. She did not look at me. She did not need to. The control was already absolute.By four-thirty my cock had been hard for so long it hurt i

CASSIAN POVShe made me wait three days.Three days of ordinary office hours. Three days of her cool professional voice in meetings. Three days of sitting at my desk with the memory of scratching her, fucking her through the rug, and the dark promise in her eyes when she said I was in trouble.On the fourth night her text was only an address and a time.When I arrived the door was already unlocked. The apartment was dim. Vespera stood in the center of the living room wearing nothing but black lingerie and higher heels than she ever wore at work. In her hand was a length of soft black rope and a leather cock ring.She didn’t greet me.“Clothes off. Hands behind your back. Knees.”I obeyed. The second my knees hit the rug she stepped behind me and bound my wrists with efficient, unforgiving knots. Then she reached around, stroked me until I was fully hard, and locked the cock ring in place at the base. The pressure was immediate.She walked in front of me, looked down, and said quietly,

Morning light found them still tangled.Marianne woke first. For a long moment she lay still, cataloguing the unfamiliar weight of a body in her bed, the heat of a bare thigh pressed between hers, the slow rise and fall of Theo’s chest under her cheek. The sheet had slipped to their waists. His arm was heavy across her back. One of her legs was hooked over his hip as if, even in sleep, she had refused to let him go.The guilt arrived a second later, cold and precise.Caroline’s son. Caroline’s boy. The child she had once watched open Christmas presents on a living-room floor. The thought should have made her pull away. Instead her fingers flexed against his stomach, feeling the warm, firm skin, the faint trail of hair that disappeared beneath the sheet. He was hard against her thigh. Even asleep he was hard for her.She shifted carefully, meaning only to look at him. The movement woke him. His eyes opened, grey and sleep-soft, and for a second he only stared at her as if she might van