Wrong move

The storm inside Sera's mind had been building for days - no, for weeks. Every stolen glance, every touch that lingered too long, every whispered word from William Moro had wrapped around her like chains. And tonight, as she lay in bed, her heart racing and her body trembling, those chains felt tighter than ever.

Her eyes burned with unshed tears as she stared up at the cracked ceiling of her small apartment. The dim glow of the streetlamp outside cast shadows across the room, but none could match the darkness in her heart.

Enough.

The word echoed in her mind like a drumbeat.

Sera sat up, pulling her knees to her chest, wrapping her arms around herself as if to stop from breaking apart. She had to do it. She had to stop him. No matter how her body betrayed her - no matter how her skin still tingled from his touch, how her lips still felt the ghost of his breath - she knew this couldn't go on.

I'll go to the police.

Her heart hammered at the thought. Fear clawed at her, but underneath it, something stronger burned - a flicker of the courage she thought she'd lost.

The next morning, Sera walked into the police station with trembling hands but steel in her spine. The room smelled of stale coffee and paper, the air heavy with the weight of a hundred stories like hers. But this was her story now.

"I need to file a complaint," she said, her voice quiet but firm.

The officer at the desk, a woman with kind eyes, looked up. "Tell me everything."

And so Sera did. She told them about the stolen touches, the words that felt like spells, the way William's presence made her feel trapped, lost, weak. Every detail poured out of her like a flood.

The officer listened, her face growing more serious with every word.

"We'll handle this," she said finally, her voice full of promise. "We have a special unit for this sort of case. Trust us."

For the first time in a long while, Sera let herself breathe.

Hours later, the office was unnervingly quiet. The storm outside mirrored the one that had raged in Sera's heart for so long. She sat at her desk, pretending to work, but her mind was with the team of policewomen on their way to confront William Moro.

She imagined the scene: William, finally powerless, finally exposed.

Let him try his charm on them, she thought bitterly. These are trained officers. They'll see through it.

But deep down, a sliver of doubt wormed its way in.

When the police unit arrived, the building seemed to hold its breath.

There were four of them: strong, confident women, their eyes sharp, their steps sure. They entered like a storm, their presence undeniable.

William was in his office, as always, the city sprawled behind him through the glass windows like a kingdom at his feet. He turned as the door opened, his expression calm, unreadable.

"Mr. Moro," the lead officer said, her voice firm. "We need to speak with you."

William's eyes flicked over them, and then…

That smile.

That slow, knowing smile that had undone so many.

Sera watched from her desk, heart pounding. She couldn't hear the words, but she saw the shift - the way the officers hesitated, the way their bodies seemed to soften.

William spoke, his voice low, velvety, dangerous.

One of the officers stepped closer, as if drawn in by some invisible thread.

Another's lips parted slightly, her breath quickening.

No…

Sera's nails dug into her palms. This couldn't be happening.

But it was.

Inside the office, the air grew thick with tension.

William leaned against his desk, his eyes half-lidded, his smile deepening. "Ladies," he said, his voice like silk, "I assure you… I've done nothing wrong. But you've come all this way. Shouldn't we… talk?"

The lead officer's resolve crumbled beneath the weight of his gaze. "We… we shouldn't…" she murmured, but even as she spoke, she was moving closer, her hand reaching out as if of its own accord.

Another officer closed the door, as if sealing their fate.

Buttons came undone.

Breaths mingled.

The room filled with the sounds of desire unleashed, of control surrendered.

William's hands roamed freely now, his touch a sinful promise, each brush of his fingers setting fire to their skin. His palms slid over curves and hollows, firm yet gentle, as if he already owned every inch of them.

His mouth claimed them one by one - soft lips pressing against the pulse points of their necks, teeth grazing tender skin, tongue tasting the salt of their surrender. The lead officer gasped as his mouth captured hers, his kiss deep and devouring, drawing out a moan she hadn't meant to give.

Buttons snapped beneath impatient fingers. The tight fabric of their uniforms fell away piece by piece, scattered across the room like the last fragments of their will. His fingers slipped beneath the edges of a bra, tugging it free, exposing soft, flushed skin that rose to meet his touch.

One officer, trembling, tried to speak - to remind herself why she was here. But William's mouth found the sensitive curve of her ear, his breath hot, his voice a dark caress.

"Shhh… let me show you what you really want."

Her protest melted into a whimper as his hands slid lower, fingertips tracing the lines of her hips, the inside of her thigh, so close to where she burned for him.

Another officer, emboldened by the haze of desire, ran her hands over his chest, pushing aside his shirt to feel the heat of his skin, the hard muscle beneath. William let out a low growl of approval, his own hands exploring, stroking, kneading flesh that shivered beneath his grip.

Their bodies pressed to his, seeking him, needing more. His mouth moved between them, tasting the swell of a breast here, the hollow of a throat there, leaving trails of heat that made them arch and plead. His tongue circled a hardened nipple, teeth grazing just enough to make her cry out, her hands tangling in his hair.

Belts unbuckled. Zippers slid down.

Soon there was nothing left between them but skin, hot and slick where their bodies met.

William's hands claimed them all at once - one hand cupping the firm roundness of an officer's backside, pulling her against him, while the other trailed lower, fingers slipping between slick folds, drawing gasps and moans that filled the room.

His mouth moved lower still, and they parted for him eagerly, desperate for the pleasure only he could give. His tongue found the sweetest spots, stroking, teasing, tasting, as their cries grew louder, their hips moving against his mouth, their hands clutching at him as if they'd drown without him.

They were his now. Every shudder, every gasp, every pleading word from their lips fed his hunger, his power.

He took his time, making each of them unravel beneath him, savoring their surrender. When he entered them, it was slow at first - agonizingly slow - until they begged for more. And he gave it, driving into them with a rhythm that stole their breath, made them see stars behind their closed eyes.

Sweat slicked their bodies, the room filled with the sounds of skin meeting skin, of moans and gasps and the wet, sinful music of their joining.

William moved between them, tireless, insatiable, taking them higher, over and over, until they were nothing but trembling, spent forms draped across his office, their bodies marked by his mouth, his hands, his need.

And when at last he was done, when the storm inside the room matched the storm outside, he stood among them - naked, powerful, victorious.

The officers lay at his feet and in his arms, bare, breathless, completely his.

Outside, Sera couldn't look away.

Through the sliver of glass in the office door, she saw everything - his hands, their bodies, the heat that filled the room like fire.

Her heart broke and burned all at once.

How?

How could they fall so easily? How could she have thought she could stop him?

William lifted his head, his eyes finding hers through the glass.

That smile again - triumphant, dark, seductive.

And there he stood, surrounded by the naked, trembling forms of the women sent to take him down.

His gaze promised her that she would be next.

Sera stumbled back, her breath stolen from her lungs.

Her mind screamed at her to run, but her body - traitorous, weak - ached with longing.

The storm outside broke at last, rain lashing against the windows as if the heavens themselves wept for her.

And William watched, victorious, as Sera fled down the corridor, his laughter low and dark, the sound of a predator savoring the hunt.

The game had only just begun.