LANDLORD’S ARRANGEMENT

Wife Bred and Bound While Husband Watches (NTR Novella)

By

Liora Cross

Chapter 1: The Arrangement

The landlord’s boots hit the hallway floor like a countdown.

Marcus stood in the kitchen with his hands braced on the counter, staring at the eviction notice like it might rewrite itself if he looked long enough. Two months behind. The new management company had bought the building and sent their collector—six-foot-something, broad through the shoulders, and already treating the place like he owned more than the lease.

Elena came out of the bedroom in the thin tank top she wore around the house, shorts riding high on her thighs. She stopped when she saw the paper in Marcus’s hand. “He said he’d give us until the end of the week.”

“That was before he saw the apartment.” Marcus’s voice was tight. “He wants the back rent in full or we’re out by Friday. He also said he might be willing to work something out if we talk to him tonight.”

The knock came again, heavier this time.

Elena’s mouth pressed into a line. She crossed to the door before Marcus could stop her and opened it.

The landlord filled the frame. Late thirties, dark hair cut short, jaw set. He looked past her at Marcus, then let his gaze drop, slow and deliberate, over the curve of Elena’s chest and the bare length of her legs. “Evening. Figured I’d save you the trip downstairs.”

Marcus stepped forward. “We can get you half by Friday. The rest—”

“I’m not interested in half.” The landlord’s voice stayed even. He stepped inside without waiting for an invitation, close enough that Elena had to tilt her head back to keep eye contact. “You’ve got one asset that might cover the balance. I’m here to see if your wife’s willing to discuss terms.”

Elena’s breath caught. Marcus went still.

“Terms,” she repeated.

The landlord’s mouth curved, not quite a smile. “You stay. I collect. Starting tonight. You keep the apartment, the late fees disappear, and nobody gets a notice on the door. Your husband can watch if he wants. Or he can step out. His choice.” He looked at Marcus. “Door’s right there.”

Marcus’s hands curled at his sides. He didn’t move.

Elena’s pulse hammered under her skin. The landlord was already looking at her like the decision was made. He reached out and hooked one finger under the hem of her tank top, lifting it just enough to bare the soft underside of her breast. She didn’t stop him.

“Lock the door,” the landlord told Marcus without looking at him. “Then sit. I’m not repeating myself.”

Marcus’s throat worked. He turned, turned the deadbolt, and dropped into the armchair by the window like his legs had given out.

The landlord turned Elena toward the wall. One broad hand flattened between her shoulder blades, pressing until her palms met the plaster. The other slid under her shorts, fingers dragging through the heat already gathering ...