20 SHADE OF FORBIDDEN TABOO

Episode 6

** Playing with Fire**

Three weeks after Sarah returned, the house felt like a pressure cooker.

Chloe had learned the rhythm of her mother’s days the way a thief learns the layout of a bank. Sarah left for her book-club meeting every Thursday at 6:40 p.m. and never came home before 9:15. That gave them two hours and thirty-five minutes of pure, dangerous freedom.

Tonight Chloe didn’t wait for the front door to close.

The second Sarah’s car pulled out of the driveway, she walked into the living room where Mark sat reading, dropped to her knees between his spread legs, and yanked his zipper down.

“She’s been gone thirty seconds,” he muttered, already hardening in her hand.

“Then we have two hours and thirty-four minutes,” Chloe answered, and swallowed him to the root.

She sucked him with filthy enthusiasm, spit running down his shaft, eyes locked on his face the entire time. Mark’s head fell back against the couch, one hand fisting her hair as she bobbed and twisted her tongue around the head. When she felt him throb, she pulled off with a wet pop.

“Not yet,” she said. “I want you to f**k me first.”

She stood, shoved her denim shorts and panties down in one motion, and straddled him on the couch. Mark gripped her hips and slammed her down onto his c**k in one brutal thrust. Chloe cried out, the sound raw and unrestrained for the first time in weeks. She rode him hard, t**s bouncing under her thin tank top, the wet slap of their bodies loud in the quiet house. Mark’s hands moved from her hips to her breasts, pinching her n*****s while he thrust up to meet her.

“Harder,” she demanded. “Make it hurt.”

He flipped her onto her back without pulling out, hooked her knees over his shoulders, and drove into her with deep, punishing strokes. The angle forced every thick inch against the spot that made her see stars. Chloe’s nails raked down his back as the first orgasm ripped through her. She soaked the couch cushions, walls clenching and fluttering around him.

Mark didn’t stop. He pulled out, flipped her onto all fours, and entered her from behind, one hand fisting her hair, the other delivering sharp spanks to her ass. Each smack made her p***y clench tighter. He f****d her like he was trying to brand her from the inside, the head of his c**k battering her cervix with every thrust.

“Tell me who this cunt belongs to,” he growled.

“You,” she gasped. “Only you, Daddy.”

He reached under her and rubbed her c**t in tight, ruthless circles. The second climax hit harder than the first. Chloe’s arms gave out; she collapsed onto her elbows, ass still high, taking every brutal stroke while she came. Mark followed with a low, guttural groan, burying himself to the hilt and flooding her with pulse after heavy pulse of hot c*m.

They stayed locked together for a long minute, both breathing hard. c*m leaked down her thighs onto the couch.

Chloe laughed breathlessly. “We’re going to have to flip this cushion before she gets home.”

Mark pulled out slowly, watching his seed drip from her stretched p***y. “You’re going to get us caught one day.”

She turned, still on her knees, and licked a stray drop of c*m from the head of his c**k. “Then make the risk worth it.”

They cleaned the couch in a hurry, then showered together with quick, soapy, hands roaming. Mark pressed her against the tiled wall and took her a second time, slower but still deep, one hand over her mouth even though the house was empty. He came inside her again, and Chloe clenched around him deliberately, milking every drop.

At 8:50 they were dressed and sitting at the kitchen table like nothing had happened. Chloe had a textbook open. Mark was pretending to check emails.

Sarah walked in at 9:12, smiling, arms full of leftovers from book club.

“Miss me?” she asked, kissing Mark on the cheek.

Chloe watched the casual kiss and felt the familiar twist of jealousy in her stomach. Under the table her bare foot found Mark’s calf and slid higher until her toes pressed against the still-sensitive bulge in his jeans. She smiled sweetly at her mother.

“Of course we did, Mom. How was the meeting?”

Sarah launched into a story about some drama with the other women. Chloe nodded at the right places while her foot rubbed slow, deliberate circles against Mark’s c**k through the fabric. She felt him thicken again. His jaw tightened, but he never looked at her.

Later that night, after Sarah had gone upstairs, Chloe cornered him in the dark hallway.

“She kissed you like she owns you all the time,” she whispered in a jealous tone.

Mark’s hand shot out, gripping her wrist and pulling her into the laundry room. He shut the door, spun her around, and shoved her shorts down just far enough. In the narrow space between the washer and dryer he entered her from behind in one rough thrust, hand clamped over her mouth.

“She doesn’t own this,” he growled against her ear, f*****g her in short, deep strokes that made the dryer rattle. “This is mine.”

Chloe came hard and fast, biting his palm, legs shaking. Mark followed seconds later, flooding her again, his forehead pressed to the back of her neck.

They stayed like that until their breathing slowed.

“We’re playing with fire,” he said quietly.

Chloe reached back and laced her fingers with his, still full of him.

“Then let’s burn.”

She slipped out of the laundry room first, adjusting her clothes, the evidence of him still leaking down her thighs as she climbed the stairs to her bedroom.

Behind her, Mark stayed in the dark a moment longer, already counting the hours until the next time they could set the house on fire again.