Age Gap Forbidden Romance Novels & Stories

He pushed them further apart, watching the emissary lick his lips at the sight. “Very good, very beautiful,” Padraig let both his hands run up and down the inside of her legs, loving the way her legs twitched under his fingers. The emissary’s eyes were still locked on her core. “Let’s get you into position now, shall we? The emissary hasn’t got all day.” She didn’t move but sat limply on his lap with her head on his chest. He wrapped his arm around her waist and stood, taking the few steps to the bed and bending her at the waist. Her hands fell to the bed rail without him telling her to put them there. Padraig ran his hands up and down her back and sides as his legs nudged hers further apart

“You’re a good wife, Amelia. A very good wife.” Her smile tightened. “Of course, Arthur.” She patted his hand lightly, withdrawing quickly as the familiar feeling of its roughness touched her fingers. He was seventy and she was twenty-eight. The gap wasn't just age; it was a chasm. A chasm filled with his money and her desperate longing for anything else.

She thought this was cool. “I mean—wow,” she went on, bouncing slightly on her toes. “An age gap romance? Like a real one? Your dad really married someone younger? That’s… that’s honestly amazing! I read so many books with this trope. Secret romance, huge age gap, wealthy older guy, younger wife—ugh, one of my favorites. It’s so dramatic and intense! Sexy, even!” She wiggled her shoulders playfully. I forced a smile. “Yeah,” I said, my voice sounding distant even to me. “It’s… something.”

“Improper pairing? Is that a fancy way of saying that the Moon Goddess made a mistake? I hadn’t expected you to be so blasphemous.” “I am not being blasphemous. It’s simply a fact that our pairing is improper—the age gap alone proves that.” “Are we the only mates with a ten-year age gap?” I challenged. “No, but I prefer an older mate with life experiences.” I smiled weakly and set the teacup and saucer onto the tray. “What a coincidence, so do I.” He cursed under his breath and shifted in his chair, pinning me down with a hard, cold gaze.

The air felt sharp with tension. Geneva stood in the back, giving her a small nod of encouragement. Aria took a breath. And began. “My name is Aria Wolfe. I was married to Sebastian Wolfe for seven months. During that time, I believed I had found a partner, a protector, and a man of integrity.” She paused. The room was silent. “But behind closed doors, I discovered layers of deceit. I uncovered financial manipulations, emotional coercion, and a long history of hidden relationships that stretch back to before his first wife’s death.”

He took the glass from her hand and drank it in one gulp. "I just asked it casually." She was getting close to him slowly. She wrapped her hand around his waist. She was breathing in his smell. He was not showing any interest in her but she didn't halt herself. She got this opportunity after the death of her wife. How could she let him go?.

I knew that after I had the win, I should fill up my empty glass. I took my glass and had to be somewhere else, away from becoming the third wheel and stopping my best friend from finding herself a man. Christopher called me after I left the bar and had gotten to a place quiet enough to answer. He wanted to know if I was having fun, and honestly, I wasn't. Lola, who was now being accompanied by a young man, didn't think she would need me anymore. I made the man I love assume I was having fun without him. Even though he got a chance to be together, we cannot be seen by anyone around; our parents are well known, and this will break their hearts.

"I've been in love with you since we were fourteen, and I'm tired of pretending I'm not." The confession hit Luca like a physical blow. Everything he'd dreamed about, everything he'd convinced himself was impossible, but his palm became sweaty and his heart pounding so hard, this was not how he was supposed the feel after hearing this, he knew it and he knew exactly why he was feeling this way. "You have a girlfriend," he said weakly. "I have a beard." Ryan's laugh was bitter. "I have a convenient arrangement that keeps my father happy and the gossip satisfied. But I don't have what I want."

The space between us closed, and our lips met in a kiss. A slow, tentative kiss that quickly deepened, a desperate claiming, a silent promise. We kissed, savoring the moments we had missed, the touch we had craved. Relishing in the feel of each other, the closeness we had missed for so long. It was a kiss that tasted of remorse, of forgiveness, of longing, of a second chance, and a fragile, flickering hope for a future we had almost lost. His lips were firm, possessive, and I met him with equal fervor, all the hurt and anger dissolving into the intoxicating heat of the moment.

When I realized that a very substantial sum was being transferred to it every month, I quickly closed it. I can't return the money I transferred earlier to Frost—the sender's details aren't visible in my banking system. I've applied to several correspondence schools because I don't plan on quitting my job. I need to save up to buy an apartment closer to the center. That's where Tim Frost's office is... Max hesitates at the bar. He likes me, I know it, even though he's happily married. He offered me a relationship, I politely declined, citing his status, and he just as politely backed off. We even developed a semblance of friendship.