Novel & Cerita Desire And Decorum 3

Stepping inside, I flicked on the lights, inviting Isaac to enter. With a gesture towards the sofa in my living room, I offered him a seat. "You can sit there. I'll prepare your coffee," I said, pointing to the inviting piece of furniture. Wanting to accommodate his preferences, I inquired, "With or without milk?" "Without," he responded, making his way to the sofa. His eyes continued to roam around the house, taking in the details. A wave of self-consciousness suddenly washed over me. Although I maintained a regular cleaning routine, a nagging feeling of inadequacy settled in, causing me to question the cleanliness of my home.

"This is a business environment, and there's a certain decorum expected." Bianca took a step closer, her eyes narrowing. "Decorum?" she scoffed again, her voice barely a whisper. "Is that what you call it? Or is it just convenient when it keeps you at a distance from someone who…cares about you?" My jaw clenched. Bianca had always been a touch…clingy, but this sudden shift in her behavior sent a shiver down my spine. "Bianca," I began, my voice low and dangerous. "Don't go there."

I chuckle thinking back at the old days So shall we continue this date , I think I'm getting hungry from all the talking Yea sure we had reach the end where a beautiful table was set up and there were decoration hanging from near by tresses that made everything looked more beautiful When did you decorate here Well I did after we meet so that one day i could bring you here, but the food I prepared today You know For being a demionda your acting like a real gentleman , most demionda are aggressive and dominant and hardly do there share much affection to there mate

He ordered and she walked to the end, she took a seat and he also did. “Sit upright.” He ordered and she did. “Both hands on the table.” He added and she obeyed. “Tell me what the book was about.” “B… BDSM.” She stuttered. Draven looked at her hands and noticed they were trembling. “Breath in Xalia.” He said and she inhaled. “And out.” He added and she exhaled. “Now, I want you to answer my questions without stuttering. If you stutter, I will get mad, do you want that?”

It’s painfully domestic, a shrine to middle-class mediocrity that makes me feel out of place the moment I step through the door. Desiree moves stiffly in front of me, her heels clicking against the scuffed linoleum floor as she walks into the living room. Her entire body language screams tension—shoulders squared, chin slightly raised, and an expression that says she’d rather be anywhere else. I know that look. It’s her battle face. She’s not here to reconnect. She’s here to endure.

I clamp down on my bottom lip as I take in the scene, allowing the desire that warms my belly to grow. A couple of women in front of me are slowly being undressed from behind by their partners as they are deeply in love. Her breasts protrude as one man slides the dress down his girlfriend's arms. Her lover takes possession of her mouth, but her friend goes straight for her uneven pink nipples. They have a ballet-like choreography to their movements. The display makes me feel good, and that is all I need to be reminded of it. Feeling desperate, I drop the cloth and make my way to Jay's office.

My mind jumped from guilt to desire and back again faster than I could follow. “I’ve been thinking about you, Father,” she said. My chest convulsed. My jaw tightened. My hand slid down the wood, pressed flat, trying to force myself to stay put, but my fingers trembled. My stomach turned over, and I felt heat spreading down, tight, unrelenting, impossible to ignore. My mind was screaming. I couldn’t have this. I shouldn’t feel this. I shouldn’t want this. And yet every nerve, every muscle, every inch of me wanted exactly that.

“Please excuse me and the interviewee. I’ll handle her myself. He said with a readable smirk. Hmm, what could he mean by that? Does it mean he wants to be inside me as well? Chairs moved backwards and everyone seated stood up and left while carrying their belongings. It was just me and him stuck inside the boardroom. No noise, no stares. Literally two horny bastards waiting to devour one another without hesitation. He got up from his chair and walked all the way from where he sat to where I am sitting. Hmm, this should be interesting. I thought to myself.

Because desire doesn’t ask to be followed blindly. It asks to be respected. I respect it now—not as a savior, not as rebellion. But as information. Accurate. Costly. Necessary. I end the chapter with the conclusion the confrontation leaves me with. Desire does not prove itself by certainty. It proves itself by endurance. By remaining when questioned. By clarifying rather than collapsing. If it survives your hardest honesty, it is not an escape. It is a direction.