All Chapters of TABOO:BATION — 50 SHADES OF FORBIDDEN SHORTS: Chapter 231 - Chapter 240

The professor was droning on about biology, writing notes on the board that I wasn't even reading. My mind was still stuck in that garden from last night, replaying every humiliating second. Then, my phone buzzed on the desk, vibrating against the wood like a warning. It was a text from James. James: "Old art studio. Now." I gritted my teeth, my thumbs flying across the screen, my heart already beginning to race with a mix of dread and fury. Me: "I’m in the middle of a lecture, James. Go the fuck out of my DMs." The reply came back in seconds, cold and calculated. James: "Three minutes. If you aren't here, I’m hitting 'send' on that video to the school group chat." My heart did a sick flip. The blood drained from my face, leaving me feeling hollow. I stood up so fast my chair scraped against the floor, the sound echoing like a gunshot in the quiet room. The professor looked up, but I didn't wait for permission. I grabbed my bag and bolted out of the room, ignoring the curious s

I climbed onto the bed, the silk sheets feeling cool against my bare skin. James loomed over me, his shadow falling across my body. He didn't rush. He leaned down, his face inches from my inner thigh. He took a long, deep breath. "Mmm... you smell amazing, Amy," he murmured, his voice a low vibration against my skin. "Like vanilla and desperate heat. You’ve been waiting for this all day, haven't you?" "I haven't," I lied, my breath hitching as he moved his hand between my legs. "I hate this. I hate you." "Keep telling yourself that," he said. He started to play with my clit, but he was doing it so casually. He used just the tip of his index finger to circle the spot, barely putting any pressure on it. It was a light, teasing touch that was a thousand times worse than being ignored. "James... stop," I moaned, my hips jumping toward his hand. "What... w-what… are you doing?" "What's the matter?" he asked, looking bored. He kept up the slow, circling motion, his thumb occasionally g

The morning light was way too bright as it hit the kitchen tiles. I felt like a zombie, my body heavy and my head still spinning from what happened at 3:00 AM. My mom was busy at the stove, the smell of bacon filling the air. "Amy, honey," she said, not looking up from the pan. "Go wake James up, would you? Breakfast is almost ready, and I don't want it getting cold." My heart did a nervous skip. "Can't Leo do it?" "Leo’s in the shower. Just go, Amy. Don't be difficult." I walked down the hallway, my legs feeling weak. Every step toward the guest room felt like I was walking back into a trap. I reached his door and knocked softly. No answer. I pushed it open just a crack. The room was dim, the curtains still drawn. James was a dark shape under the covers. "James?" I whispered, staying by the door. "Wake up. My mom wants you for breakfast." He didn't move. I sighed and walked closer, reaching out to shake his shoulder. "James, come on. Get up." In a flash, his hand shot ou

The second night felt different. The air in the room was charged with a heavy, electric silence that seemed to press against my skin. I lay in my bed, my body stiff, listening to the clock on the wall. Every tick sounded like a heartbeat. I wasn’t trying to sleep tonight. I was waiting. I was waiting for the rustle of the sheets, for the shadow to move, for the pervert I let into my house to come back for more and finish what he started.When I finally heard it—the soft, predatory slide of his feet on the carpet—my stomach did a somersault. I squeezed my eyes shut, forcing my muscles to go limp. I had to look like a statue. I had to look like a woman who was dead to the world, even as my blood began to boil with anticipation.He moved with a terrifying confidence that told me he knew exactly how much he could get away with. I felt the mattress dip as he sat on the edge of my bed. He didn't start with my hand this time. I felt his fingers reach for the hem of my thin nightshirt, slidin

The fourth night arrived, and the air in the bedroom felt thick enough to choke on. I lay there, my skin humming with a nervous, electric energy. Every time the floorboards groaned, my heart skipped a beat. I was waiting for him. I was addicted to the fear and the heat of it. Then, I heard his mattress creak. The sound of his footsteps was like a drumbeat in the dark. He didn't hesitate. He came straight to my side and sat down, his heavy heat radiating through my thin blanket. "Hello beautiful, I can't get enough of you, Amy," he whispered, his voice a deep, gravelly rasp that sent a shiver straight to my core. "I tried to stay in my bed. I really did. I swear. But you're like a drug. You're so addicting, just lying here like a silent little prize. I need to feel you." I kept my eyes squeezed shut, my breathing shallow. I felt his large, warm hands reach under the covers. He found the waistband of my panties and began to slide them down. He moved with agonizing slowness, the fabri