Lahat ng Kabanata ng Forbidden Collection : Kabanata 111 - Kabanata 120

I had always been the responsible one, the girl with plans and dreams. But everything shattered the night my parents died in that horrific car crash on the icy Austrian highway. One moment, I was a university student with a loving family; the next, I was an orphan with nothing but grief and a suitcase of clothes. My uncle, my father’s brother, wasted no time. He swooped in like a vulture, claiming the family home under some obscure clause in my father’s will that no one had ever mentioned. He made my life hell—constant belittling, locking me out in the cold, treating me like an intruder in my own childhood home. I endured it for months, hoping things would improve, but they only worsened. Finally, I packed what little I could and fled to Vienna, the city where my old friend Zara lived. Zara had been my classmate back in school, before my family moved. We’d reconnected online, and when I poured out my story, Zara didn’t hesitate. “Come stay with me,” she’d said. “I have plenty of spac

I’ve been buzzing about this cosplay thing with Luca for weeks. Ever since Mom announced the family vacation to Disneyland, we’ve been texting non-stop, plotting every detail. “Sash, you’re gonna kill it as Jasmine,” he’d message me late at night, his words popping up with those fire emojis that made my stomach flip a little. Not in a weird way—Luca’s my stepbrother, after all—but there’s always been this playful energy between us, like we’re in on some secret joke the rest of the world doesn’t get. He’s 24 now, all grown up with that easy grin and those broad shoulders from his gym obsession, but to me, he’s still the guy who snuck me candy when our parents weren’t looking.We’d video call, him holding up sketches of Aladdin’s vest, me twirling in front of the camera with fabric swatches for my outfit. “Imagine the pics we’ll get,” I’d say, laughing as I struck a pose. “Private story only—none of that family-friendly crap.” Luca would chuckle, deep and teasing. “Yeah, keep it exclusi

I slapped two slices of bread into the toaster, my fingers sticky from the butter I’d smeared on earlier. My body still throbbed from yesterday’s marathon—three clients back-to-back, pounding me raw until I could barely walk straight. Every step sent a dull ache through my pussy, a reminder of cocks that had stretched me to my limits. I lit a cigarette, inhaling deep, the smoke curling in my lungs like a lover’s breath. Fuck, I needed this break. The toast popped up golden, and I grabbed it, heading to the dining table.I sat down, biting into the crisp bread, crumbs falling on my tank top that barely contained my full tits. My phone buzzed on the table, lighting up with a notification from the app. I glanced at it, exhaling smoke through my nose. Some guy named Rex: “I want to fuck you for six hours straight. Booked online. Be here in an hour.” Attached was his address and a dick pic—thick, veined, already hard like he was jerking off just thinking about it.I typed back, my fingers

Elena sat cross-legged on the floor, her fingers absently twisting the hem of her faded T-shirt as her friends chattered around her. Maria leaned forward, her eyes sparkling with that familiar mix of concern and enthusiasm, and placed a warm hand on Elena’s knee. “Girl, you’re only forty-one. Look at you—those curves, that smile. You’re too beautiful to be wasting away like this. You could get married again in a heartbeat.”Elena forced a small laugh, but it didn’t reach her eyes. She tucked a strand of her dark, wavy hair behind her ear, feeling the weight of their gazes. “Married? Please. After what happened, I’m done with that mess.” Her voice cracked just a little, and she swallowed hard, blinking away the sting.Tasha nodded vigorously, crossing her arms over her chest. “Exactly why you need to get out there. Start with something for you. Hit the gym—tone up, feel strong again. It’ll boost your confidence, and who knows? You might meet someone who actually deserves you.” She wigg

I can’t believe this is happening. Two weeks. It’s only been two goddamn weeks since Noah shattered my world, and here I am, curled up on the couch, staring at the TV screen like some pathetic masochist. The live stream of his wedding—his wedding to her—plays out in high definition, every pixel a knife twisting in my gut. There they are, Noah and that bitch from high school, the one who made my teenage years a living hell. She bullied me relentlessly—tripping me in the halls, spreading rumors about me being easy, stealing my homework just to watch me fail. And now? She’s the one in the white dress, smiling up at him like she owns him. It should be me. It was supposed to be me.Tears blur my vision as I watch them exchange vows. His voice, that deep, smooth timbre that used to whisper promises in my ear during our late-night sessions, now pledges forever to her. “I do,” he says, and I feel it like a punch. A sob rips from my throat, raw and ugly. I grab another tissue from the box besi