All Chapters of HIS FORBIDDEN OBSESSION : Chapter 1 - Chapter 10

The sheets were already ruined. Bella’s thighs trembled as she forced a third finger inside herself, the stretch sharp enough to make her bite down hard on her lower lip. Wet, filthy sounds filled the quiet bedroom—obscene, rhythmic, desperate. Her free hand pinched her nipple until the ache shot straight between her legs. She was soaked, arousal dripping down her wrist and onto the silk beneath her. She didn’t think about being nineteen. She didn’t think about the perfect daughter she was supposed to be. She thought about *him*. Lucian Cross. Forty-one years old. Six-foot-four of controlled power and expensive restraint. The man her father hated more than anyone alive. The man who had looked at her once, years ago, like he already knew exactly how she would sound when she broke. In her head he was between her legs, one heavy hand pinning both of her wrists above her head, the other working her open with two thick fingers while those cold grey eyes watched every flicker on her

Bella padded down the stairs barefoot, the cool marble silent under her feet. She wore nothing but a tiny pale-pink silk robe that barely reached the tops of her thighs. The front hung completely open. No bra. No panties. Her full breasts swayed freely with every step, nipples already tight and pink from the cool air. The soft curves of her ass peeked out beneath the short hem, and the smooth, bare lips of her pussy were fully exposed every time the robe shifted. She had chosen this on purpose. The kitchen smelled like fresh coffee and him. Lucien stood at the wide marble island with his back to her, sleeves rolled up, pouring black coffee into a heavy mug. The white shirt stretched tight across his broad shoulders and the thick muscles of his arms. Even from behind he looked dangerous — tall, controlled, powerful. Bella stepped into the doorway and let the robe slip a little farther open. “Morning, Lucien.” He went completely still. Slowly he turned. His grey eyes landed on h

The house felt too quiet after he walked away. Bella stood in the kitchen for a long time, the marble counter still cold under her palms, the open robe hanging loosely off her shoulders. Her skin burned where his hands had been. The thick, hard shape of his cock was still imprinted against her bare pussy, a phantom pressure that made her clench every time she breathed. He had pushed her away. He had looked at her like he wanted to devour her and then forced himself to leave. She should have felt rejected. Humiliated. Instead the ache between her legs only grew sharper, hotter, more desperate. He was fighting so hard. That meant he was close. Closer than he had ever been. She spent the rest of the day testing every limit he had set. She wore the shortest dress she could find in the closet — soft black fabric that clung to her curves and stopped high on her thighs. No bra. No panties. Every time she walked past an open doorway she made sure the hem rode up just enough. She lingered

“Daddy—” The word was still hanging in the air when Lucien pressed the thick, slick head of his cock against her entrance and started to push. Bella’s eyes flew wide. A sharp, broken shout tore out of her throat as the fat tip stretched her virgin cunt open for the first time. The burn was instant and fierce. Tears sprang to her eyes and spilled down her temples into her hair. “Ah—! Lucien— wait— it hurts—” He froze immediately, only the swollen head inside her, the rest of his heavy cock still outside. His jaw was locked so tight a muscle jumped in his cheek. Sweat already beaded along his hairline. The effort of holding still was written in every rigid line of his body. “Fuck… you’re so goddamn tight,” he rasped, voice strained. “I know, baby. I know it hurts. You’re still a virgin.” He pulled back carefully, the head of his cock slipping free with a wet sound. Bella whimpered at the loss even as the sharp sting lingered. Lucien reached over to the nightstand cupboard, yanked

Victor Vale arrived just after seven the next evening.Bella heard the heavy car doors shut from her bedroom window. She stood there in a simple white dress, barefoot, watching as her father stepped out of the black SUV followed by two men she didn’t recognize. Lucien was already waiting at the front entrance, dressed in black, expression carved from stone.She stayed upstairs like she had been told.The low murmur of male voices drifted up the staircase. Polite. Controlled. Dangerous. She caught fragments — her father’s familiar cold tone, Lucien’s quieter replies — but nothing clear enough to understand. After several minutes the voices moved toward the east wing.Only then did she come down.The house felt different with him inside it. Heavier. Like the air itself had thickened. Bella walked into the main living room and found Lucien standing alone by the tall windows, a glass of whiskey untouched in his hand. He didn’t turn when she entered.“He’s settling in,” Lucien said flatly.