Forbidden Rose

Secret Nights

The end of August and the beginning of September became, for Arina, a time when the world narrowed to two points: his bedroom and her body. After that first night when she came to him herself and surrendered completely, they could no longer stop. Every evening, as soon as the mansion fell asleep, Arina quietly slipped out of the annex and climbed the back stairs. The door to his bedroom was always ajar—an invitation that needed no words.

Daniel waited for her in different ways. Sometimes already naked, sitting in the armchair by the window, c**k hard, hand slowly stroking its length—he teased himself, knowing she was watching from the doorway. Sometimes in bed, on his back, hands behind his head, letting her touch him first. Sometimes at the door—grabbing her immediately, pinning her to the wall, tearing off her clothes and taking her standing, not even making it to the bed.

Their s*x was different every time, but always intense, always on the edge. He taught her everything: how to take him deeper in her mouth, how to ride him so that he growled with pleasure; how to take him from behind, arching just right so he hit the perfect angle; how to come from just his tongue between her legs. He was insatiable—taking her three, four, five times a night. Coming inside her, on her breasts, on her back, in her mouth. Leaving marks everywhere: bites on her neck (which she hid under her hair), bruises on her thighs and ass, red handprints on her skin from spanks.

Arina opened herself to him completely. She learned to be depraved for him: greeting him on her knees at the door, mouth already open; sitting on his face and coming while he licked her; begging for it harder, deeper, rougher. She screamed his name, clawed his back until it bled, bit his shoulders. Her body became his—every orgasm belonged to him.

By day, they were strangers. He—the cold master, she—the quiet maid. He gave orders through Mrs. Gray, passed by without a glance. But sometimes, when no one was watching, his hand slid over her ass in the hallway, or he whispered in her ear: "Tonight I'll f**k you in the greenhouse." And she spent the whole day wet, waiting for night.

In early September, Victoria Layton returned.

Arina saw her car first—a silver Mercedes that screeched to a halt at the main entrance. Out stepped Victoria: tall, perfect blonde in a tight white dress that accentuated every curve. Sunglasses perched on her head, Hermès bag on her shoulder. She walked as if the mansion already belonged to her.

Mrs. Gray whispered in the kitchen: "Daughter of Mr. Rivers Senior's business partner. Here for two weeks. They say Daniel's father wants them to... get closer."

Arina felt everything inside her tighten. But outwardly, she remained calm.

Victoria immediately claimed the best guest room next to Daniel's bedroom. She came down to breakfast in a silk robe that barely covered her thighs, ordering fresh berries and champagne. When Arina brought the tray, Victoria eyed her from head to toe and smiled a thin, venomous smile.

"Oh, is this the same girl who spilled coffee on Daniel last year?" she asked sweetly at dinner on the first evening. Daniel sat at the head of the table, Victoria beside him.

Arina froze with the dish in her hands.

Daniel looked up—eyes cold, impenetrable. "Yes. Arina works here."

Victoria laughed softly. "How sweet. I hope she's learned to be more careful. Danny doesn't like it when his things get dirty."

Arina felt her cheeks burn. She set down the dish and left.

That night, Daniel came to her in the annex—for the first time in a week. Usually she went to him, but tonight he couldn't hold back.

He entered without knocking, closed the door, pinned her to the wall.

"Sorry about dinner," he whispered, kissing her neck roughly. "She means nothing."

Arina pushed him away—for the first time. "She'll be sleeping next to you. In the next room."

He growled, grabbed her wrists, pinned them above her head. "You're jealous."

"Yes."

He smiled—dangerously, predatorily. "Good. Because you're the only one I want."

He tore her clothes off—literally ripped her blouse. Threw her face-down on the bed. Entered her from behind—one thrust, deep, without preparation.

Arina screamed into the pillow.

He f****d her hard—punishing her jealousy, proving ownership. Spanked her ass firmly, leaving red prints.

"You're mine," he growled with every thrust. "Hear me? Only mine. No one else will touch you."

She came twice—hard, to the point of tears.

Then he flipped her over, entered again—slowly, eyes locked.

"I love you," he said for the first time. Quietly, but firmly.

Arina cried. "I love you too."

They made love until dawn—tenderly, then roughly again. He came inside, pressing his whole body to hers.

"I'll talk to my father. Soon. We'll be together openly."

But for now—secret.

Victoria began the hunt.

She flirted with Daniel openly: touching his hand at dinner, laughing louder than usual, wearing dresses with deep cleavage. Staying late in his sitting room—"discussing business."

Arina saw it all. And suffered in silence.

One night, Victoria knocked on his bedroom door—Arina was there, under the sheet, naked, after another round.

Daniel got up, threw on a robe. Arina froze under the covers.

Victoria entered without invitation. "Danny, darling, I can't sleep. Shall we have a drink?"

He said coldly: "Tomorrow. It's late."

Victoria noticed the woman's blouse on the chair—Arina's. Smiled sharply.

"Oh, you have company? Sorry, I didn't know."

She left.

The next morning, Victoria approached Arina in the garden.

"You know, sweetie, men like Daniel always return to their own kind. You're a temporary distraction. A summer toy. Soon he'll get bored with you, and he'll marry me."

Arina said nothing, but inside everything boiled.

That night, she asked Daniel: "Are you sleeping with her?"

He grabbed her throat—not painfully, but dominantly. Pinned her to the wall.

"Never. Since you came into my life—only you. Understood?"

She nodded.

He f****d her against the wall—standing, hard, proving words with actions.

But the tension grew.

Victoria started watching. Saw Arina leaving the main house at dawn. Snapped a secret photo.

And sent it to Daniel's father with the caption: "Your son is entertaining himself with the maid. Time to intervene."

Arina didn't know yet.

But she felt it: their secret nights would soon end.

Or explode.