Forbidden Desire

Diana

I'd been sunk into my couch for hours. Two, maybe three. Time seemed to stand still as my head spun like a runaway roller coaster. I couldn't think straight. There was a hole in my chest, a mixture of guilt, excitement, and pure emotional chaos.

Ethan.

My boss.

The man who had always been my forbidden fetish, my silent crush, my unconfessed sin.

Two years of eating me up inside, full of indecent thoughts, sweaty nights, and dirty fantasies… and now? Now we had sex. Real, official.

I should have been happy, right? Fulfilled, jumping for joy. But everything felt wrong. Or too right to be real. It was the kind of thing we keep in our imagination. That we experience only with our eyes closed, in the darkness of our bedroom. I never thought it could actually leave my head and become flesh. Skin. Raw lust.

The craziest part? It was perfect. Hot, intense, dominating, just the way I'd always imagined. And yet... I wanted to run away.

What if my mother found out?

The woman who gave her life to pull me out of nowhere, who raised me alone when my father obliged and disappeared. She worked like a bitch to see me get here—to a decent job, in a big city, trying to build a life.

And now I'm going to ruin it all? Throw away everything she did for me... because of one fuck?

Okay, it wasn't just any fuck. It was the stuff of legend. But still...

Maybe it was a mistake.

The problem is: how am I going to resist Ethan now?

After feeling how delicious it is to be touched by him, to be used, to be fucked hard. After hearing his husky voice as he cums inside me...

How am I supposed to act normal again?

The sound of the doorbell snapped me out of my trance. I jumped on the couch, thinking it was finally the delivery man with my order.

"Coming!" I shouted, trying to sound more excited than I actually was.

As I ran around the apartment, I threw on the first robe I found hanging on the chair. I couldn't answer the door wearing only a worn-out Legião Urbana t-shirt and a pair of skimpy underwear. It was all I had clean at the moment—the rest of my clothes were between the washer and dryer, in some stage of survival.

I turned the doorknob without even looking. And I nearly had a heart attack.

"Ethan?!" My voice cracked, stumbling over the syllables. "What are you doing here?"

He was there. In the flesh, in a perfectly pressed suit, as if he'd stepped straight out of a men's fashion magazine. And worst of all: holding two bags with the name of my favorite Chinese restaurant on them.

"Is this how you greet your boss?" “He said, holding out the bags as if nothing was out of the ordinary.

I grabbed the food automatically and went straight to the small table in the living room, trying to hide my mental breakdown.

“What do you want, Ethan?” I asked, trying to hide the tremor in my voice.

“First: it’s Mr. Alencar,” he replied, walking in behind me as if the apartment were his. “Second: I came to talk to you.”

“My shift ends at six-thirty. If you want to talk to me, send me an email. I promise I’ll answer you tomorrow, at eight sharp.”

I walked in, expecting him to stop at the door. But of course he didn’t. He followed. He closed the door with an irritating calm and stared at me as if I were an equation he was about to solve.

“This isn’t about work, Diana.”

The air grew thick. My legs trembled a little, and it wasn’t from hunger.

He wasn’t there for spreadsheets. And I knew it very well.

"Okay, I'll give you five minutes," I said firmly, even though I knew I'd already lost this battle the second I opened the door for him.

I shouldn't have even let Ethan into my house. I knew very well what I was doing. And worse: I knew exactly where this would end. But I let him anyway.

"Can I sit down?" he asked, nodding toward the living room sofa.

"Sure... sit down." I sighed, giving up. There was no point in feigning resistance anymore.

He settled in with the ease of someone who knew my resistance was a facade. I sat down next to him, keeping a safe distance. Or at least trying to.

"Diana, I'll be straight with you," he said, turning slightly toward me.

"You're right. Your five minutes are already ticking." I crossed my arms, trying to hide the butterflies in my stomach.

"What happened between us... last Saturday..." He hesitated for a second. "That wasn't a mistake. That was real. Between us, in that house…"

"Ethan…" I interrupted, lowering my gaze. "I don't think it's a good idea to talk about it."

"Why not?" He stood up suddenly, with that intense energy that took my breath away.

"Because it was a mistake, Ethan." My voice was low, almost a whisper. But it hurt to say it.

"What mistake, Diana? Why do you insist so much on calling the best moment of your life a mistake?"