Romans & histoires Back Rooms

“But begging for his forgiveness means accepting that he is remarrying and will be replacing my mother.” Sophia sighed wearily. “Don't you want him to be happy again?” “And what about me?” “Desiree…” “Thanks for the ride.” Desiree abruptly ended the conversation. “I'll see you later.” Desiree stepped out of Sophia's car and walked across the street. She paused, taking a deep breath as she stood in front of the massive building of Rothschild Group of Industries, located in one of the most expensive and industrial areas of the city. With most of its exterior made of glass, this gray building outshone the surrounding structures.

"See that doorway over there?" On the other side of the room, there's an opening in the black-painted wall, and through it, the start of another darkened corridor. Yes. That leads to the back area. Lots of smaller spaces for different activities. She uses the same word as the woman out the front. There are private rooms as well, with all kinds of equipment. That's where most of the stuff youre thinking about happens.

DUCHESS 48 Into the backrooms of the Grand Hall of the Royal Palace, the people inside were only me, Viscount Ludwig and His Majesty the King. Her Majesty the Queen and the Crown Prince were not explicitly invited thus they cannot enter here in the back rooms. The back rooms are a private room that only His Majesty the King can use and have access in to. not even the servants can just enter this room and when serving us food and drinks, the trolley was left outside and we are the ones to take it from there. Being invited in the backrooms means that His Majesty the King has something important to discuss, or it is something of a

That room was dirty. I pushed open the door to the smallest guest room in the back of the west wing. It was rarely occupied, and it had a faint scent of dust and abandonment. I didn't turn on the light. There was enough moonlight streaming through the window to illuminate the plain bed, the unadorned dresser. I sat down on the edge of the bed, the springs complaining with a creak. The numbness wore off, replaced by a tremor that started deep inside and shuddered through me from head to toe. I wrapped my arms around me, but there was no heat to be seized. Only the icy remembrance of his words: Whore around… same freedom…

The lady walked towards the elevator and Kathilyn followed suit. As they both were inside the elevator, the lady pressed a button to the 10th floor. The elevator moved up while Kathilyn felt sick to her stomach, feeling nervous about meeting her fiance, Isaac Cambridge. The elevator arrived at the 10th floor with a 'ding' and they both walked out after the door slid open. The lady led Kathilyn through the building towards Isaac's office while showing her around. "So, this is his office. You can wait for him here, if anything you can contact customer service by pressing 5 on the phone." The lady spoke and left, closing the door behind her.

But then again came the betrayal. I looked away from the building and stepped out of the car. It's been two weeks. All hand over events has been completed. Bloom's house belonged to Rosewood enterprises. Even if Nova didn't know that yet. Well, she was about to know. I walked up to the sliding front doors and into the lobby. The place was scanty, save for a receptionist who was dozing at her post. My heels clicking on marble floors made her sit up, her eyes still lidded with sleep.

Unable to reach Max, I had to go to his office. When I arrived, neither Max nor Coco were there. The receptionist mentioned they were at Disneyland. The manager tried to brief me on company matters, but I waved him off. "I'm just dropping something off." However, I froze in shock when I opened the door to Max's office. The once minimalist black-and-white decor was then splashed with color, the artwork replaced by intimate photos of Max and Coco. A corner of the room had been converted into a mini-suite, complete with a bed, shower, and—shockingly—a pair of pink lingerie hung on the wall. The curtains were stained, and there was an unmistakable odor permeating the space.

Jax pointed his chin behind Jim. “Passed out again. I put her in the room she’s been staying in. Come on, this way.” Jim followed Jax down the hallway, past several closed doors. Jim knew what went on in these back rooms, or crash rooms, as they were fondly called. Each one had a bed, a sofa, some tables, and an attached bathroom.

I froze, trying to process this novel, unexpected experience, while Jeff panted above me. Early exposure to a particularly unfortunate strain of commercial p**n had discouraged me from ever trying this before. Said p**n involved straight guys who were perfectly willing to let their carrot be waxed by another man for money, so long as they didn't have to do any of the dirty work themselves. So rimming had become synonymous in my mind with a particularly submissive (okay, guilty as charged, but, please!) kind of guy who'll do anything to get a man off without expecting any reciprocation.