Amber had always been the good girl, the one who followed the rules and played it safe. But tonight, as she stood in her dimly lit apartment, she felt an unfamiliar itch deep within her, a longing for something wild,…
The coastal town had exploded in color. Flags on porches, lanterns strung through trees, the air heavy with BBQ smoke and anticipation. Maddie woke early. Slipped out of her bed and into her role. Today wasn’t about seduction—it was about control.…
Maddie returned that evening to the seaside suite. Wine glasses were chilled, rose petals scattered across the bedspread, soft music vibrating through the walls. Liana and Mark looked different now—expectant, a tiny tremor of anticipation in their stance. She chose…
Maddie had drifted between wakefulness and sleep for hours. Ever since she’d shut the door on Vanessa and Graham outside her room, her skin had felt electrified—every nerve ending alive, humming. She’d tried counting breathing exercises. Tried focusing on the…
Her name was Juliette Vernier. Late 40s. French-American. A strategic consultant with a reputation for fixing companies—and breaking egos. She wore tailored suits, bold lipstick, and always had a glass of scotch in reach. When she entered Tyrone’s office, she didn’t…
Amber had always been the good girl, the one who followed the rules and played it safe. But tonight, as she stood in her dimly lit apartment, she felt an unfamiliar itch deep within her, a longing for something wild,…
The coastal town had exploded in color. Flags on porches, lanterns strung through trees, the air heavy with BBQ smoke and anticipation. Maddie woke early. Slipped out of her bed and into her role. Today wasn’t about seduction—it was about control.…
Maddie returned that evening to the seaside suite. Wine glasses were chilled, rose petals scattered across the bedspread, soft music vibrating through the walls. Liana and Mark looked different now—expectant, a tiny tremor of anticipation in their stance. She chose…
Maddie had drifted between wakefulness and sleep for hours. Ever since she’d shut the door on Vanessa and Graham outside her room, her skin had felt electrified—every nerve ending alive, humming. She’d tried counting breathing exercises. Tried focusing on the…
Her name was Juliette Vernier. Late 40s. French-American. A strategic consultant with a reputation for fixing companies—and breaking egos. She wore tailored suits, bold lipstick, and always had a glass of scotch in reach. When she entered Tyrone’s office, she didn’t…