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All Chapters of Fucked Into Forever [Forbidden Collection]: Chapter 31 - Chapter 40

93 Chapters

Chapter 3 _ The Stepbrother’s Confession

The following afternoon, the house felt heavier, like the walls themselves were holding their breath. Lavinia had left for her salon appointment, leaving behind a trail of clipped remarks about “certain people needing to learn boundaries.” Aveline was folding laundry in the basement utility room, the warm scent of fabric softener doing nothing to calm the restless ache between her thighs. Every time she replayed the garage encounter, her body responded—nipples tightening, core fluttering.She didn’t hear Thorne until he was right behind her.“Aveline.”She spun, clutching a towel to her chest. He stood in the doorway, broad shoulders filling the frame, stormy blue eyes darker than usual. At twenty, he had his father’s height and strong jaw, but none of the controlled dominance—just raw, aching vulnerability.“I saw you last night,” he said quietly, voice cracking. “In the garage. With Dad.”Her stomach dropped. She opened her mouth, but nothing came out.Thorne stepped closer, the

Chapter 4 _ Mother’s Growing Resentment

Lavinia noticed the marks first.The faint purple bloom just above Aveline’s collarbone, half-hidden by her loose sweater the next morning. Then the way her daughter moved—slower, more languid, a secret glow radiating from her skin like she’d been thoroughly, deliciously used. And Merrick… he barely glanced at his wife anymore. His touches were polite, distant, while his eyes followed Aveline with a hunger that made Lavinia’s stomach twist into knots.She had suspected. Now she knew.That afternoon, while Merrick was supposedly working in his home office and Thorne had vanished to the gym to burn off his own misery, Lavinia cornered her daughter in the kitchen. Aveline was rinsing a glass, humming softly, when her mother’s voice sliced through the air like a blade.“You little whore.”Aveline froze, water still running.Lavinia stepped closer, eyes blazing with pure venom. “I know exactly what you’ve been doing. Spreading your legs for my husband under my own roof. After everything

Chapter 5 _ Jealousy Ignites

Thorne couldn’t hold it in any longer.That evening, after the gym failed to burn away the images burned into his brain, he found Lavinia alone in the living room. She sat with a glass of wine, scrolling through her phone, but her posture was rigid, fury barely contained.“Lavinia… I have to tell you something,” he said, voice raw. Tears stung his eyes as he dropped onto the couch beside her. “It’s Dad and Aveline. They’re… fucking. I saw them in the garage. He was inside her. I watched the whole thing.”Lavinia’s face transformed—eyes narrowing to slits, lips curling back in pure, venomous rage. The wine glass trembled in her hand before she set it down with a sharp click.“That whore,” she hissed, voice low and deadly. “I knew it. I felt it in my bones.” She pulled Thorne into a tight hug, but there was no comfort in it—only ice-cold calculation. “Don’t worry, sweetheart. I’ll handle this. She won’t destroy our family. Not while I’m breathing.”Her mind was already spinning: divo

Chapter 6 _ Tangled Heart

Thorne was drunk on pain and cheap whiskey when he cornered Aveline in the hallway the next evening. His eyes were bloodshot, hair disheveled, the scent of alcohol clinging to him like regret. Lavinia had gone out “for air,” leaving the house dangerously quiet. “I can’t do this anymore,” he slurred, backing her against the wall. “I’ll tell her everything—every single time I saw you with him. Unless…” His hand trembled as it cupped her cheek. “Give me one chance. Just one night. Let me show you I can make you feel something real.” Before she could pull away, he crashed his mouth onto hers in a desperate, sloppy kiss. His tongue pushed past her lips, tasting of liquor and heartbreak. Aveline turned her face, gently but firmly pushing against his chest. “Thorne… stop. I can't… it's your father I want.” The words landed like a slap. Thorne staggered back, eyes glistening. “He is old enough to be your father! What is wrong with you!?” He laughed bitterly, a broken sound. “Fine. Ru

Chapter 7 _ Explosive Truths

Dinner that night felt like walking into a powder keg. The four of them sat around the long mahogany table, the air thick enough to choke on. Lavinia had set the plates down with deliberate calm, but her eyes were two shards of ice. Thorne stared at his food untouched, knuckles white around his fork. Aveline kept her gaze lowered, pulse hammering. Only Merrick ate with steady confidence, one hand resting casually on his thigh. Lavinia lasted exactly six minutes. She slammed her wine glass down so hard the stem cracked. Red liquid spilled across the white tablecloth like blood. “I know everything,” she snarled, voice trembling with fury. “You two have been fucking under my roof like animals. My own daughter—whoring herself to my husband. And you…” she jabbed a finger at Thorne “....are pathetically in love with the same slut who destroyed this family.” Thorne flinched. Aveline’s breath caught. Merrick set his fork down slowly, eyes never leaving his wife. “You’re right about

BOOK 6 : Melody in the Dark _ Chapter 1 _ The Melody

Lena's POV The city was already drunk on holiday lights and mulled wine, but inside The Black Cat, a tiny basement venue in the East Village, the air was thick with sweat, reverb, and anticipation. I stood near the back wall, arms crossed, half-hidden in shadow. I’d come alone—again—because books and silence were safer than people, but tonight the flyer in the bookstore window had promised something raw. Rhys Calder and the Night Owls. Blues-infused indie rock. “One night only before the tour.” The lights dropped. A single spotlight hit the stage. And there he was. Rhys. Leather jacket slung low, dark hair falling into his eyes, guitar slung across his chest like an extension of his body. He looked up once—scanned the room—and his gaze snagged on mine for a heartbeat longer than necessary. My stomach flipped. I told myself it was the bass vibrating through the floor. The set was electric. Gritty riffs, lyrics about longing and leaving, his voice low and smoky, t

Chapter 2 _ Silent Echoes

Rhys's POV Christmas morning dawned cold and quiet on the tour bus somewhere between Philly and Baltimore. The engine hummed low, tires eating highway miles while the rest of the band slept off last night’s whiskey and stage sweat. I sat in the back lounge, acoustic guitar across my lap, fingers picking out fragments of a melody that wouldn’t leave my head.Her melody.Lena.I didn’t even know her last name. Just the way she’d tasted—sweet and sharp, like winter berries and want. The way her thighs had trembled around my face in that filthy alley. The sound she’d made when I thrust into her, raw and surprised, like she hadn’t expected to feel that much.I’d walked away. Had to. The bus was leaving. The tour was waiting. But every mile since then felt like pulling against a tether I couldn’t see.My phone buzzed. A text from the bassist, Marco: ~You good, man? You’ve been staring at that guitar like it owes you money.I typed back: ~Writing.Lie.I wasn’t writing. I was rememberi

Chapter 3 _ Bookish Desires

Lena's POVNew Year’s Eve in the city felt like everyone else was celebrating something I couldn’t touch.The bookstore stayed open late—our annual tradition of hosting a quiet reading hour while the rest of Manhattan exploded with fireworks and champagne. I’d volunteered to close, grateful for the solitude.The last customer left at 10:45. I locked the front door, dimmed the overhead lights to just the warm glow of the reading lamps, and flipped the sign to *Closed* but didn't lock it.The shop smelled like old paper, cedar shelves, and the faint vanilla of the candle I’d lit earlier.I should have gone home. Should have poured wine, watched the ball drop on my tiny TV, toasted alone.Instead I lingered.I wandered to the back corner—the erotica section nobody ever asked for help finding. I pulled a slim volume from the top shelf: The Art of Surrender. The cover was black with gold lettering, no photo. Perfect.I sank into the worn velvet armchair tucked between the stacks, the on

Chapter 4 _ Road Cravings

Rhys's POV Somewhere on I-95 South, just past Richmond, the tour bus felt like a rolling cage. We’d been on the road for two weeks straight—club dates, dive bars, one sold-out theater in Atlanta. The setlist was muscle memory now, the crowds predictable, the nights a blur of sweat, applause, and empty hotel rooms.I hadn’t slept properly since New Year’s Eve.Every time I closed my eyes, I saw her: Lena in that velvet chair, skirt hiked, fingers moving between her thighs while she read filthy words aloud.The way her voice had cracked when I replaced her hand with my mouth. The taste of her—sweet, slick, addictive. The way she’d whispered my name like a prayer when she came.I’d left her again. Dawn flight. No promises. Just a kiss on the forehead and a vague “I’ll be back.”I was starting to hate the sound of my own voice saying shit like that.The bus hit a pothole. I jolted awake in my bunk, cock already half-hard from the dream I’d been having. Same one every night: her on her

Chapter 5 _ Festival Glimpses

Lena's POV Summer had arrived early in New York—sticky heat, long days, the kind of evenings where the city felt alive and restless. The Brooklyn Summer Music Festival was in full swing: three stages, food trucks, bodies pressed close under string lights and the smell of grilled corn and weed.I hadn’t planned to come.But Riley had dragged me out with a promise of “just one set, then we can leave,” and I’d caved because staying home meant staring at the same bookstore walls and thinking about him again. Six months since New Year’s Eve. Six months of radio silence after that one text he’d sent from the road: ~ I’m still tasting you. Every fucking mile.I hadn’t replied. What was there to say? “Come back?” “I miss the way you broke me open?” I’d left the message on read and deleted the thread, but the words stayed burned into me like a lyric I couldn’t shake.Riley handed me a beer and tugged me toward the smaller side stage. “This band is supposed to be good. Low-key, bluesy. Y

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