Novelas y relatos de Forbidden Thirst

I take the pastry, unable to take a bite. The taste of forbidden fruit remains lodged in my throat. And I know it will never leave me. ---

“But I will not pretend the air between us is clean. Every time you sing, I hear the want in your voice. Every time I preach about the flesh, I see the colour rise in your cheeks. We both know what this is.” My mouth is dry. “What is it?” “Forbidden Pleasure.” He says the word like it tastes good. “And you are already half lost to it.” I cannot answer. My heart is beating too hard. My skin feels too tight. Between my legs there is a low, steady pulse that has no business being there in a church. Pastor Hale sets the sheet music down on the stall. He straightens his coat. “Practice is over for today. Go home, Grace. Sit at your mother’s table. Bow your head for evening prayer. But when you cl

“That’s it. Take it. Look at you choking on your husband’s father’s cock. Moan for me while I use this mouth.” I moaned around him as best I could. The vibrations made him thrust harder. He fucked my throat in steady deep strokes until tears ran from the corners of my eyes and my jaw ached. Then his rhythm broke. “Swallow every drop.” He pushed deep and came hard. Thick hot pulses flooded my mouth and throat. I swallowed around him, taking as much as I could, but some spilled from the corners of my lips and ran down my chin. Victor kept thrusting through every pulse until he had nothing left. When he finally pulled out a string of spit and cum connected my lower lip to the shiny head of his

“Home. No other price. Yours.” Ice stung, then his palm. Water cold. Food. Nape, heavy, dominant, intimate, his pulse under her mouth, fast, then slower, wool and sweat and sex. “Tomorrow the stamp. Tomorrow the evening. The note stands. The choice stands. Sleep. We are home. The door stays where we put it. Unused. Not clean. I am not offering redemption.” “I won’t hide it. Don’t let go. The craving is the close.” “I won’t. Final and not finished.”

he echoed. It should have felt like relief, laying it all out so clearly. Instead it felt like drawing a map of a country we were already halfway to leaving. --- **AIDEN'S POV** I told myself the rules would help. That naming the boundaries would keep me on the right side of them. It didn't work like that. If anything, watching her sit there agreeing to *no jealousy* made something in my chest tighten in a way I didn't have a name for yet — not until later that evening, when Cole Whitfield showed up at the neighboring dock with a cooler of beer.

The sign flickered like it had lived a hard life, and something about that felt right. Inside, the place smelled like alcohol and regret. No one cared who I was and no one recognized me….it was perfect as I liked that. “Whiskey.” I told the bartender. He slid the glass toward me. “Long night?” he asked with a smirk on his face. “You could say that.” “This is strong enough to make you forget." He said as he handed me a glass of whatever he mixed. I drank it in one go. The burn felt good. Another glass followed and then another.

The battle between right and wrong waged on within me, leaving me torn between what I knew was moral and the intoxicating passion that consumed me. Despite all our efforts to leave the past behind and forge ahead, I couldn’t help but notice the ever-present attraction between us, a ghostly reminder of our forbidden passion that haunted me when I was alone. It was a flame that refused to be extinguished, a siren song that beckoned me back to Nathan and Sebastian like a moth to a flame.

LYLAH Have you ever had an interesting series turned off when it was almost at the climax? Ever been refused a drop of water after a long walk in the desert? Starved, made to watch others eating your favourite meal? If you have, you might have an inkling of what he forced me to pass through last night. Kaelin, that monster, the devil without a fucking horn, and the man who fucking claimed he was my stepbrother, made me go through hell 7 times last night. Each time that I was close, he always removed his fingers, robbing me of the pleasure I knew was just around the corner.

Tears would often escape him as he waited for any sign of her. Mirabel was haunted by guilt over how she had treated Susan. Each night, she prayed for Susan's return, hoping to mend the misunderstandings that had driven them apart. Taylor, on the other hand, experienced a harsh lesson when Mirabel confronted her about her attempt to drug Jimmy into sleeping with her. Caught in the act, she was warned never to approach Jimmy or any member of his family again. Regret washed over her, but it was too late to change her actions.

“If you want a drop, you will crawl. Kneel and beg my forgiveness. You owe me and the Deputy an apology for the blood you spilled.” Avery squeezed her eyes shut, resisting the siren call of the water. During her stay in the pit, Joanna had occasionally thrown her dry grain cakes, but never a drop of liquid, making every swallow feel like broken glass. The thirst was a physical agony, but Avery knew the price was her soul. A wolf with a weaker spirit would have broken, licking the floor for the skin in Joanna’s hand. Avery bit the tip of her tongue, the metallic tang of blood filling her mouth. The sharp pain acted as an anchor for her mind.