CRAZY DESIRES AND SINS

The music downstairs was loud—laughter, clinking glasses, fake smiles, and all of it. But Elena Voss, the thirty-five years old wife of the mayor, didn't care. She never cares.

She leaned against the marble counter of her private dressing room, her dress halfway down her back, exposing smooth, bare skin. No bra. No panties. Just velvet, heels, and a dangerous itch crawling under her skin.

On her knees in front of her?

Ava Sinclair.

Twenty-two. Brown-eyed. Soft-lipped. And sin in a tight little body.

The mayor's intern. The girl everyone thought was sweet and harmless.

Yeah... not even close.

"I should fire you for this," Elena whispered, trying to catch her breath, her voice shaking. "This is so stupid."

Ava didn't answer. Just kissed her thighs, slow and teasing, mouth tracing up to her skin like she owned it.

"You keep saying that," Ava said, "but you called me to give you this."

Elena chuckled darkly, her head dropping back. "You talk too much."

"And you taste too good."

A moan slipped out of her lips as Ava's tongue finally reached where Elena wanted her most, her dripping wet pussy. Her hips flinched forward, heat spreading fast, drowning every inch of self-control she thought she had left.

Elena had power. Influence. Class. But none of it meant a damn thing right now.

Not with Ava's hands spreading her legs wider.

Not with her mouth moving so slow on her pussy driving her crazy.

"You've done this before," Elena gasped.

Ava smiled against her skin. "Once or twice."

Elena looked down at her, eyes half-lidded, hair wild.

"You're gonna ruin me."

"You already ruined yourself," Ava whispered, voice thick with heat. "I'm just finishing the job."

Elena reached back and grabbed Ava's hair, wrapping it around her fists and pulling her closer, her body shaking with every soft suck, every roll of Ava's tongue. It was maddening. She didn't want it to be slow anymore.

"Stop teasing."

"Say please."

She growled low. "You're such a little-"

A sudden knock.

Three soft taps.

They both froze.

"Elena?" Leonard's voice. Calm. Smooth. Controlled.

"Are you alright in there?"

Her heart beat faster in her chest.

Ava didn't move. Didn't stop. Her mouth stayed right where it was, tongue eating Elena’s juicy pussy.

Elena pressed her palm over her mouth to hush the moan climbing up her throat. Her eyes squeezed shut.

Leonard knocked again.

"You've been gone for a while."

Elena swallowed, took a breath, and forced her voice steady.

"I'm fine, darling," she said sweetly, eyes locked on Ava's wicked ones. "Just fixing my hair."

She heard his shoes turn and walk away.

And then finally she let out the moan she was holding.

Ava didn't stop. If anything, she got rougher.

Hungrier. She used her tongue like she had something to prove. Like she was starving. Eating every drip away.

And Elena? She couldn't breathe. She couldn't think. Her body trembled against the counter. Her knees almost gave out, her thighs shaking as Ava pushed her all the way to the edge.

Then she hit her climax, hot and fast.

She cried out softly, her entire body jerking as the orgasm ripped through her core.

Ava stayed on her, soft licks, slower now and more gentle.

Elena's chest rose and fell fast. She leaned forward, breathless, eyes glazed.

"Jesus Christ," she muttered. "You're a fucking problem."

Ava stood up, licking her lips. "You can say that again."

Elena turned, still half-naked, still flushed. She looked at the girl - no, the woman in front of her and knew this wasn't just about sex.

It was power. It was a risk. It was the exact kind of fire she had been craving.

She reached out and gripped Ava's chin, eyes sharp.

"You keep this up, and I'm not going to be able to hide it anymore."

"Then don't," Ava whispered. "Let them watch."

Elena didn't answer.

She pulled her dress back up, smoothed her hair, fixed her makeup, put on her lip stick, and walked out of the room like nothing happened.

Downstairs, the gala was still in full swing.

Elena walked through the crowd like a queen - flawless, glowing, calm. No one would guess what just happened upstairs. Not the senators. Not the wives who smiled through their teeth. Not even Leonard, who stood by the bar, sipping whiskey and chatting up donors.

Everyone adored her.

Everyone envied her.

And Elena smiled at them all because that was the game.

A waiter in black approached her quietly, holding a silver tray.

"Mrs. Voss," he said, "this was left for you."

On the tray sat a small black envelope. Plain and clean.

No label. She frowned slightly but took it without question, sliding it into her purse.

"Thank you."

He nodded and walked off.

Hours later, the mansion was quiet. Leonard was asleep in the master bedroom, snoring faintly. Elena stood barefoot in her private sitting room, robe loose, hair down. A glass of wine in one hand.

She took the flash drive out of the envelope and plugged it into her laptop.

Curiosity? Maybe.

Instinct? Probably.

Something felt off.

The screen lit up.

A video started playing.

Her breath caught.

It was her.

In that room.

Bent over the counter.

Ava on her knees.

Her own head thrown back, hand gripping hair, the sounds unmistakable.

Every moan. Every twitch. Every second.

Recorded.

Her hand shook. The wine glass slipped from her fingers and shattered across the hardwood floor.

She didn't even blink.

She stared at the screen, stunned, frozen. Who the hell...?

Then, the screen went black.

A message appeared, blood red letters against pure black.

"I see everything."

Her heart dropped.

And for the first time in years...

Elena Voss felt exposed.