Forbidden Dreams Novels & Stories

Melissa People always tell you how bad forbidden love is. How you should stay away from it. How it's.... forbidden. What they don't tell you, is how captivating it is. How it lures you into its tight grip and doesn't let go. How... intoxicating it is. Honestly, if the way I feel for this man is the same way Eve felt in the garden of Eden, towards that forbidden fruit, then I don't blame her for eating it. Because I would too.

The entire night was filled with surreal and fragmented dreams—none of them forming a coherent story. In one of the dreams, Miranda cradled a chubby, smiling baby in her arms. Behind her stood a tall, gentle man, softly encircling her waist, quietly reminding her to watch her step. But when she turned to look at him, he vanished. All that remained was an endless field of wild grass, stretching as far as her eyes could see. No trace of the man, no one to turn to.

Welcome to The Art of Seduction, a series crafted to lead you through the labyrinth of human passion, where every turn reveals another facet of our darkest fantasies and most forbidden dreams. Here, seduction is an art form, a game played with skillful precision and dangerous intent. It’s a world where whispered promises can lead to a lifetime of ecstasy or an eternity of torment. Each story within these pages is a journey, an invitation to step into the unknown and embrace the shadows that lurk within us all. But be warned, dear reader, this path is not for the faint of heart.

Fuck. Incubi were terrible at dream walking. We only ever used it for one thing. Sex. Because when you could promise someone mind-blowing pleasure on the other side, they didn't care that you'd shown up in their dreams uninvited. The energy drain was worth it when there was a reward waiting.

The stars hung in millions, some distant flecks in the background and others bright and ripe with light. The way his voice grew deep as he condemned himself, admitting how he fell and let his demons get the worst of him. It had me thinking, wondering if this bet between us wasn’t for his personal gain, but for his kingdom. If Dain saw himself as this irredeemable failure, the chances of him wanting a mate for himself were slim. Some nagging feeling in the pit of my stomach told me I wasn’t the only one struggling to find sleep that night. When sleep finally did claim me, I had the strangest of dreams. As a child, rarely ever did I dream. The few I did have were vivid with colors and sounds,

Come to me in the silence of the night; Come in the speaking silence of a dream; Come with soft rounded cheeks and eyes as bright As sunlight on a stream; Come back in tears, O memory, hope, love of finished years. O dream how sweet, too sweet, too bitter sweet, Whose wakening should have been in Paradise, Where souls brimfull of love abide and meet; Where thirsting longing eyes Watch the slow door That opening, letting in, lets out no more. Yet come to me in dreams, that I may live My very life again though cold in death:

His dreams were haunted by vivid, tormenting visions. In his dreams, he saw Peyton and Ava as he had observed them through the camera, making love in the shower. They were happy, completely absorbed in each other, oblivious to his existence. The dream twisted, morphing into a nightmarish version where Peyton and Ava began to taunt him, their loving gestures turning into cruel mockery. As they continued their intimate embrace, they hurled words of scorn and derision at him, echoing the harsh comments of the dominatrixes from his sessions.

"Before anything else, before dinner, before anything. Just you and me." He set down the knife and took my hand, leading me to the bedroom. "I can make that happen," he said, closing the door behind us. As he made love to me slowly and deliberately, his hands gentle on my body, his eyes never leaving mine, I realized something. Forbidden didn't have to mean wrong. Sometimes, the best things in life were the ones that were supposed to be off-limits, the ones that required courage and risk and trust. And sometimes, they were absolutely worth it.

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.

“Right. I am your pretend girlfriend.” “Which reminds me.” He pulled out a document and slid it across the desk. “Sign it.” I took it and scanned through. The contract. The first clause stood out immediately. No falling in love. “Do I get to make my own rules?” I asked, stepping closer. He looked up. “What rules?” “You do not get to touch me for the six months.” A quiet hiss left him. “Not possible.” I signed the document anyway and placed it back on his desk.