Lahat ng Kabanata ng Sinful Seduction (Exotica Collection): Kabanata 181 - Kabanata 190

Eli had been dating Natalie for five months. She was sweet. Smiled a lot. Laughed at his jokes, even the ones that didn’t deserve it. Her lips were soft, and her kisses were gentle. They went to the same university, shared mutual friends, even talked about taking a trip after finals. She was the kind of girl he should want.But lately, every time he kissed her, he felt… nothing.It started after she told him about her father.“He works a lot,” she’d said. “Travels more than he stays home. Barely a parent, honestly.”Eli had never met the man. Their schedules never aligned. Every time he was over at her place, her dad was gone. That’s how she liked it, she said.Which made the moment Eli unlocked the front door with the spare key and stepped inside all the more jarring.The house wasn’t empty.Someone was there.The low hum of music vibrated from the living room. Jazz. Something smooth and heavy. Eli hesitated in the hallway, holding his breath.Then he saw him.A man stood near the ki

It started as a secret.A kiss in the kitchen. A blow job on the cold tile floor. A groan into the crook of his neck that sounded too close to love but was just lust—wild, poisonous lust.But it didn’t stop there.It couldn’t.After that first time, Eli didn’t try to convince himself it was a mistake. He didn’t even feel guilty—not really. Natalie’s name barely crossed his mind anymore. She was a shadow in the background, a pale echo of what he used to want. Because now, every inch of him ached for something bigger. Stronger. Crueler.For him.For the man who kissed like he owned him, fucked like it was punishment, and whispered filth into his ear like it was the only truth that mattered.⸻Eli started finding excuses to come over when she wasn’t home.The man never texted. Never called. But he left the door unlocked. Always.The first time it happened in daylight, Eli thought he might back out.But the moment he stepped inside, he was yanked forward, shoved against the wall, and kiss

The tires crunched slowly over the gravel as the cab turned up the long driveway. Trees arched overhead like a tunnel, filtering the late afternoon sun into golden slivers. I chewed the inside of my cheek, my fingers wrapped tightly around the handle of my tote bag. Home renovations. That was the reason Mom gave. As if I didn’t know better. She wanted space. I’d been away at school too long, grown too opinionated, too much like my father, and now I didn’t fit anymore.She sent me here instead. To him.The house emerged between the trees like something out of a movie. It was all glass and dark wood, sleek and expensive. Cold. My mother had called it a “guesthouse,” but this was no cottage. This was a secluded retreat buried in the hills, miles from the nearest store, where the air smelled like pine and silence.He was already on the porch when the cab stopped. Leaning against one of the support beams, one hand tucked into the pocket of dark slacks, the other holding a glass of somethin

The next morning, he left a note on my nightstand.Wear the black dress. No bra. No panties. Be downstairs by ten. Don’t speak unless I ask you to.My fingers trembled as I read it. The handwriting was sharp, clean. Just like him. There was no name signed, because he didn’t need one. His voice had already carved itself into my thoughts.I stood slowly and peeled off the oversized shirt I had worn to bed. My body still ached from the night before, especially my knees, but the ache only added to the arousal pulsing low in my belly. I didn’t question the instructions. I didn’t hesitate.The dress clung to me like sin, thin and sheer in the light. Every step I took made my breasts sway slightly, the fabric teasing over my nipples until they peaked. Between my thighs, I was already slick.Ten o’clock.I walked barefoot down the stairs, every inch of my body conscious of his gaze before I even saw him. He stood in the living room, leaning on the back of the leather couch, a glass of somethi

She didn’t sleep.The ache between her thighs throbbed all night, a pulsing reminder of what they did. What she begged for. What he gave. She lay on the couch wrapped in a thin throw, her skin still marked by the weight of his hands. Every time she closed her eyes, she saw him—shirtless, furious, wild. The sound of his voice. The way he growled her name like it tasted like sin.She touched herself once more before dawn. Just to feel something. Just to pretend it was his hand again.By morning, the sunlight spilling through the blinds was cruel and bright. The air smelled like old smoke and pine. She sat up slowly, her muscles sore, her hair wild around her face.She heard him in the kitchen. The clink of a coffee cup. Cabinets opening and closing. He was acting like nothing happened. Like he hadn’t just wrecked her on the couch hours ago.Her bare feet padded across the wooden floor. She didn’t bother putting on a bra. The tank top was thin enough that her nipples pressed visibly agai