Forbidden Obsession

Christina has money. She has power. She’s spent her thirties building a kingdom with no one in her bed. At nineteen, Lia still has a soft face and stubborn legs. Christina starts calling herself the mentor, the teacher, the example. She makes it sound elegant on paper. But they both know the apartment changes when the door locks. She buys Lia silk that slips straight off pale shoulders, watches the fabric catch between her thighs. Every night the sheets smell like money and salt. Christina runs her palm down Lia’s spine until the girl arches, then pushes two fingers inside, slow enough that Lia has to beg with her hips. The moans come steady after that—wet, open, grateful. Christina smiles against her throat, tasting the skin she paid for, the softness she claimed. They sleep skin to skin, legs tangled, luxury and youth turned into one breathless, obedient fact.