Murmuring

I was dying from my fear of heights, but my husband, Don Vincent, was busy with his assistant, savoring the latest coffee flown in from Hawaii that morning. "You're a grown woman, Bella. What's the big deal? You're stuck on a roof, figure it out." Then he hung up on me. I collapsed onto the hot tar of the roof, my body shaking uncontrollably before everything went black. It was two hours before building security found me. When I got home, I asked Vincent for a divorce. He rubbed his temples, his patience worn thin, looking at me as if I were a child throwing a tantrum. "Over a cup of coffee? I told you, the heights are all in your head. You’re perfectly safe now. Stop making a scene alright? What's this nonsense about a divorce? I have more important things to deal with. Calm yourself down." I stared at his back as he left, tears already streaming down my face. Something important? Did he really think I couldn't hear his assistant, Sophia, murmuring in the background? Did he think I didn't know he took her to the last family gathering? I had loved Vincent for three years. Everyone knew he was the center of my world. They all thought an orphan like me could never leave him. But now, all the love I had was eclipsed by a profound, soul-crushing exhaustion. I was done. I picked up my phone and dialed a number I hadn't touched in three long years. "Uncle, book me a flight to Seattle. I'm ready to leave Vincent."

Completely frozen and horrified, her watery eyes were staring at that bleeding dead body in front of her. She couldn't just believe he had just killed someone in front of her so brutally, just because she dared to talk to that person and not any person, but his own wife's brother. "Now, you will forever remember…never to get closer to any other man," she heard him whispering those words in her ear. His blood stained hands gripped her waist more firmly which made her finally look at him. "He was your wife's brother. H..he was your family," she stuttered, disgusted by this brutal monster on whose embrace she was captured now. A feral smirk ghosted on his face. "You needed to think about this before getting closer to him," he brought his face closer to her. Her glossy eyes filled with more disgust, hatred and anger for this barbaric animal before her. "You shouldn't have forgotten that…." Sensually grazing his lips against hers, he peered into her watery eyes. "You are my possession," his words made her fists her palms, especially when she felt his hand opening the zip of her gown. He would again taint her by claiming her body as his. "I am your sole possessor, cara mia," he grinned, sadistically before completely undoing her gown's zipper. She just helplessly stood in his embrace. "Now be a good girl and let me have you again…." hotly murmuring that, he captured her mouth in his and freed her from her clothes and she was not capable of doing anything to stop that sinner from committing that sin with her again because she was…..HIS SINFUL POSSESSION……. Why was she committing that sin of letting a married man have his sinful possession over her? Read to find out…

“Shh, little girl,” he growled, teeth catching my bottom lip. I fought the moan, but he circled my clit, my hips jerked helplessly against his hand. Then he pushed my panties aside and sank two thick fingers inside me. I soaked his palm, knees buckling as tremors wracked me. “That’s it, cum for me,” he whispered against my ear. I did. Waves crashed through me while he held me up, stroking gently, murmuring filthy praise that made it sweeter, deeper, more shattering than anything I’d ever felt with a woman. I’m a lesbian. I’ve always known it, claimed it shamelessly. I’ve mapped women’s bodies with my mouth, hands, loving every touch and gasp. My best friend’s tongue between my legs has made me come countless times. The only man I tried, my ex, was awkward, unsatisfying. I swore off them forever. I love women. I love my best friend. So why does this man, her father, the one I should never want make me wetter with one stroke than she ever has? Why am I aching for his cock, pushed inside me, thrusting relentlessly, filling me, ruining me in ways no woman could? Why does bending over his desk for him feel like the right thing to do? One forbidden touch. One devastating truth: I might never want another woman again. When I rejected the vice chancellor's advances, my best friend's obsessive aunt, she threatened expulsion. My friend took me to her father, the college owner. One look at his body and I was lost. That night in their home, hiding in the kitchen while watching him cook, I touched myself, craving what is forbidden. Will my best friend discover my sudden addiction to her father? Will her aunt ever stop wanting me?