In Silent Obsession Ao3 Novels & Stories

Her nightie raised high as a result of the way she sat on the table. She spread her legs wide, showing him her moist area. "Come on and delve in," she said naughtily. Alberto smiled. He stood up and bent towards her leg before covering her p**sy with his lips. "Oooh!" Stephanie moaned, biting her lips. Alberto held her legs with his two hands, sucking her cl*t hungrily. "Baby, oh my!" "Put in that damn tongue!" Alberto did as she said as he thrust his tongue into her p**sy hole. He started thrusting faster, his finger rubbing her p**sy lips.

CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN — Godric — I’ve always said there’s more poetry in silence than in words. Especially when it’s the kind of silence that wraps around someone’s throat and makes them gasp without ever realizing they’re suffocating. Tonight, that silence belongs to Aphrodite. And Duncan Moretti is the one tightening the leash. But not too tight. Not yet. Just enough to make her twitch. Just enough to make her wonder if she enjoys it.

Indeed, a psycho have emotions too, they just need someone who'll understand and won't leave them when they need them the most and it happens to be her, my Baby Milda. She was the psychopath obsession and become the wife now. I love you so much... I promise to never leave you, forever.

Chapter Three – Executive Ecstasy The Obsidian Office evolved into a haven of shadows and power as the night settled, the tinted windows reflecting the city lights, the boardroom table a stage for our entwined forms. My blouse and skirt were strewn aside, bruises on my hips and thighs, bite marks on my breasts, cum and sweat coating my skin—yet the hunger within me burned, a primal need fueled by Daniel’s unrelenting dominance. He loomed over me, his breath heavy, cock hard again, eyes locked on mine with a fierce mastery, ready to culminate our executive ecstasy. The office thrummed with the energy of our shared taboo, our professional roles a sacred bond that tightened with each touch.

FORBIDDEN FLAMES 2 ARIA’S POV The text from Serena arrives just as I flip the café sign to CLOSED, the soft click of the lock echoing in the empty space. My hands still tremble from the day, every customer interaction felt like a distraction from the memory of her mouth on mine yesterday, her fingers teasing me to the edge in the storage closet before pulling back with that wicked smile. "Not yet," she whispered. "We savor the sin." The words have haunted me all shift, making my panties soaked, my nipples hard against my bra, every brush of fabric a reminder.

A language written in texture and memory and a quiet, unbreakable will. The obsession was a live wire in my veins. I had just mutilated a man as a warning to her father. But the true battle wasn't being fought in crumbling distilleries. It was being fought in the quiet of my study, across a desk, with a blind girl who was steadily, unknowingly, carving her way into the core of me. I needed to reassert control. Not over Danta. Over her. Over this… feeling. I needed to see her. To remind us both of our positions.

Was I that easy to read? “Mehnn…I love sluts.” That was Cinnamon. “Someone, get the blindfold.” Brown ordered before stroking my face and whispering “I don’t need your hands, your mouth will do. Do you understand?” I nodded. “But don’t worry, I will,” Green added. As if in a trance, I took my gaze to his erection and I couldn’t look away.” It was long and curvy….absolute perfection. I practically drooling until everything went dark….fuck blindfolds.

It felt different and completely out of my control. When I remained silent, only staring up at him like a lost puppy he said, “I'm hungry, Principessa.” His chest vibrated with a suppressed growl on every word delivered with intention. At the same time, his knee moved up between my legs to my wet and throbbing spot. It was too far to create the friction I desperately wanted against the ache down there. But close enough to feel the wetness dripping out with the fabric of his trouser as the only barrier between his knee and my need.

She walked to the center of the studio, sat down, and spread her legs, sitting exactly as I'd instructed. She is always so obedient and yet so stubborn. I hated how much that turned me on. Antonio and I set up our easels. We started painting in silence. The scratch of charcoal on canvas filled the room mixed with the sound of Aria's breathing as she tried her best not to rub her legs together. Her nipples were poker hard, her pink areola looking so tempting. After about twenty minutes, Antonio set down his charcoal. "Can I have a taste?" he asked casually not taking his hungry eyes off Aria.

"Damien, the windows—people can see—" "We're fifty floors up. No one can see. And even if they could—" His hand slid into my jeans, finding me already wet. "I don't care. Want them to know you're mine. That you belong to me." "Possessive bastard," I gasped as his fingers circled my clit. "Your possessive bastard." He worked my jeans down, his own following. "Hands on the glass." I obeyed, pressing my palms against the cold window. The position left me exposed, vulnerable, completely at his mercy.