Forbidden Desires Novels & Stories

It’s much, *much* wetter than before, a lewd, visceral symphony that reverberates through every fiber of my being, making it all the more overwhelming, all the more intensely forbidden. This symphony of sensation, this rising tide of raw, carnal noise, is increasing the pleasure to an almost unbearable degree. It’s increasing the sensation, sharpening every nerve ending, heightening the forbidden intensity of everything that is going on right now. God, I know this is wrong. My conscience, a faint whisper in the back of my mind, screams that this is so fucking wrong, a transgression against everything I know. But I can’t help it, I really can’t. The fact, God, the sheer, undeniable forbidden

The boy who had filled my thoughts, my dreams, my secret fantasies. Every brush of his fingers against my skin sent heat spiraling through me, leaving my body trembling with want. My pulse raced wildly as desire curled deeper inside me, stronger and more intoxicating than anything I had ever known. I wanted more. I wanted his hands to explore every inch of me, to make me forget my fears, to claim me so completely that nothing else existed except him. But beneath the rising hunger, fear still coiled tightly in my stomach. I had never done this before.

in the dark. She tried to move on. Went on dates. Let men take her home. But their touches felt wrong—too gentle, too clumsy, too singular. Nothing compared to being claimed by three at once, nothing matched the way they’d made her feel wanted, filthy, perfect. The passion had been incandescent—filthy, consuming, everything. But it was never love. It was hunger. And hunger eventually starves. She sat alone in her room one night—windows open to the summer air, phone silent on the nightstand.

I stared at the screen for a long time. For the first time, I realized something terrifying. This wasn’t just desire anymore. This was war.

My heart was pounding hard but I pushed myself up onto shaky arms and moved on my knees, until I was positioned in the V of his spread thighs. The bulge in his trousers was right at my eye level. I could see the detailed outline of it now and the dark patch of moisture seeping through the fabric at the tip. “The sacred art of fellatio is a profound act of contrition,” he began, his voice taking on that holy cadence again, though his eyes were blazing with a purely human fire. “It is the willing submission of one’s own body to channel and pacify the divine fire that purges sin. You will take my cock into your mouth, Alice and learn to worship it with your lips, your tongue, and your throat.”

’ But it doesn’t stop there anymore. Beneath my words, in another writing— his handwriting and the poem continues. ‘Oh, I burn for the forbidden, For the touch that condemns, For the desire that damns.’ ‘My hunger knows nothing but that it wants, and no guilt nor shame attached to it.’ ‘I am ruined by wanting. Ruined by the ache of almost.’ ‘Let me taste sin on your tongue. ‘Let me memorize the terrain of your surrender.’

I lifted my hand slightly, calming him even as my own heart thundered. “You’re asking me to choose,” I said slowly. “Yes.” Mary’s voice softened. “They want to see which desire you value enough to anchor reality to.” “And the others?” I asked. “They will not be erased,” the second said. “But they will be… released.” The word felt hollow. I turned away from Elliot, forcing myself to breathe. All this time, desire had been danger because it was uncontrolled. Forbidden because it disrupted order. Now they wanted to use it.

The memory alone made my thighs press together. I wanted him. Not just the memory. The real thing. I wanted the weight of him, the way he took control, the way he filled me until I couldn’t think. I wished I could have him every day...morning, night, whenever the house went still. The need was sharp enough to make my chest ache. I would do anything. Risk anything. The thought of getting caught only made the ache worse.

"Victor is an aesthetic hedonist. He buys beautiful things and breaks them when he grows bored. If you approach him as a delicate flower, he will take you, conquer you, and discard you again." Adrian's thumb stroked over Julian’s bottom lip, pulling it down slightly, exposing white teeth. Julian felt a shudder run through his core, a sharp spike of arousal that caught him off guard. "You must be the poison he willingly swallows," Adrian continued softly, his thumb tracing the curve of Julian's jaw line down to his throat. "You must be arrogant, elusive, and utterly unattainable until he is crawling on his knees. He must believe you are superior to him in every way—wealthier, sharper, cooler,

It is taking him all he could not to kiss back. F*ck! It's just so hard! All his body wants right now is to just kiss her back. How can he fight the urge? He has always wanted to kiss her. He has always wanted to kiss every part of her body. How can he control himself in a moment like this? What type of temptation is this? He clenched his fist as he kept on fighting the urge of kissing her back. He really needs to break away from this kiss before he does something that he would regret.