Lustful Pleasures

 The library was silent, save for the steady patter of rain against the windows. Soft candlelight flickered along the towering shelves, casting golden shadows that stretched and shrank like restless spirits. Selene knew she wasn’t supposed to be here. Yet, she was never one to follow rules. Her fingers hovered over the spine of an old leather-bound book when she felt it—an undeniable presence, the air shifting, thickening with something unseen yet felt deep in her bones. “You enjoy testing limits, don’t you?” The voice sent a shiver down her spine, deep and smooth, like velvet wrapping around steel. She didn’t turn, didn’t have to. She already knew who it was. “I wasn’t aware the library belonged to you,” she murmured, feigning nonchalance. A low chuckle. “Everything here belongs to me, Selene. Including you.” Her breath caught as he moved closer, the heat of him brushing against her back without touching. A cruel game. One she had played before and lost every time. “I don’t belong...

 The forest was alive with whispers, the wind weaving through the trees like a specter. A silver moon bathed the world in its eerie glow, casting long shadows that danced in the quiet. Evelyn knew she shouldn’t have come. But the letter had arrived at her doorstep, inked in a hand she hadn’t seen in years. The words had been simple: Meet me where it all began. She had tried to convince herself it was a trick, a cruel illusion. And yet, here she was, standing in the clearing where it had all started. Where she had first tasted love. And betrayal. A rustle behind her. She turned sharply, her breath hitching as a figure stepped from the darkness. He was just as she remembered—broad shoulders, sharp jawline, eyes that held too many secrets. “Evelyn.” His voice was a murmur, barely louder than the wind. She swallowed hard. “Damien.” For a moment, silence stretched between them. Then, he stepped closer, his presence suffocating, intoxicating. “You shouldn’t be here,” she whispered, but h...

 The air in the ballroom was thick with the scent of roses and something darker—something forbidden. The chandeliers cast golden halos on polished marble, but the shadows clung stubbornly to the corners, whispering secrets of their own. Isla had been warned about men like him. Men with midnight eyes and a smirk that curled at the edges like a promise. But warnings had never been her strong suit. She had always been drawn to the fire, even when it burned. And he was fire incarnate. “Dance with me.” His voice was a velvet command, sliding over her skin like a whispered sin. Isla’s pulse stuttered, but she tilted her chin, feigning a composure she did not feel. “I don’t even know your name.” His smile was slow, deliberate. “You will.” His hand found hers, strong and calloused, pulling her into the waltz. The world blurred as he led her across the floor with an effortless grace, each step pressing her closer to something unnamed, something dangerous. “I shouldn’t be here,” she murm...