Forgotten Desire Novels & Stories

The alcohol blurred the edges of her consciousness, amplifying her desires and intensifying her hunger for revenge against the memories that haunted her. The stranger, his gazes ablaze with desire and superiority, seemed to take pleasure in Lena’s unfiltered utterances of pleasure and defiance. His name remained a mystery, adding to the elation and the sense of facelessness that fueled their vigorous encounter. Lena’s body replied eagerly to his commanding existence, each touch and thrust torching primal starvation for retribution.

He was trying so hard not to give in to temptation, but why does it seem like a burning desire was what I wanted to happen at this time? “Damn it, Liam! Just take me. Let me make you forget that woman, okay?” Unexpectedly, I didn’t know what went through my head for me to say those words. I didn’t know the exact reason why, but I just wanted to feel him inside me. I wanted to scream his name while making love to him. I wanted to transition from a naive girl to a fierce woman. If this was what they called lust, then I was lusting over him right now… or perhaps, because I wanted him to fully forget that drop-dead gorgeous woman from his past.

He just wanted to forget. Elizabeth gyrated against his jeans, her hand gliding between them to unzip him. He kissed her harder, teeth hitting hers in the ferocity. Why the fuck couldn’t he forget? Forget the way Zoe had gazed up at him, cheeks flushed with carnal anticipation, the way her body had fit against his like a fucking puzzle piece. Why couldn’t he forget the feeling of her tightening around him, of her nails dragging across his back? If he couldn’t have her, he just wanted to fucking forget it all.

She is right, I know she is, but that doesn't change the fact I can't force myself to forget what that kiss meant to me, or what it did to me. Cassandra is that forbidden fruit. I can't have her, but I want her. I want every fucking part of her. How the fuck do you forget something that felt so right?

With closed eyes and heavy breaths, she eagerly awaited that first kiss, parting her lips to invite him in. Frustration consumed her as she still didn't feel his lips. She furrowed her brows in confusion and opened her eyes to an empty space . Disappointment flooding over her. It was just another hallucination, leaving her burning with unfulfilled desire. Slamming her hand onto the basin platform, she closed her eyes, attempting to regain composure. Anger surged within as she blamed herself for again thinking of him. Determined to break free from his hold, she glared at herself in the mirror. desperate to quell her insatiable desires she Fixed her hair and stormed out of the washroom, ready

And blood boiled inside me, so intensely and deeply that I remember killing that bastrad limb by limb, piece-by-piece after. Rara Morris slowly became my source of entertainment. From the moment I haven’t touched as much as kissed another woman. I wanted to. I fucking wanted to. So many times I reminded myself that she was the daughter of the man who got Kristina killed. I wanted to find someone else…anyone else. But no one could replace her, I’d know it the moment I sensed my infatuation with her growing into something more lethal. I tried to forget her, remind myself that she was young. Too far younger for me. That it was unforgivable to desire her. But then there were fucking bastards lus

He breathed out, his heavy breath clearly giving it away that it was as hard for him to resist this desire as for me, "Just the Zipper." But I had to. Desire gnawed upon me, accompanied by a flood of conflicting thoughts; At the same time, the memories I yearned to forget were trying to swarm their way back, their claws like sharp edges of knives and they drew black, black ink of the darkness of those past events I'd been through— The journey I had endured to get here, where I was today. So I needed to stop. He too...needed to stop. "Okay," I whispered, a firm resolve taking hold.

I want to be sure about something, and right now, I'm sure I want him to start moving his fingers. "The thought of what I want to do to you has kept me company through those nights. I'm done with imagining," he continues, twisting his fingers ever-so-slightly. Pleasure shudders through me to the point I'm left to dig my teeth into my lower lip to keep from moaning. I don't want to give him that satisfaction yet. He leans down to whisper in my ear. "I know it's wrong, to want you this desperately. But I'm done holding back."

I just walked straight over to the massive bed, collapsed onto the cool white duvet, and turned my face into the pillows. For a long while, I just stared at the ceiling, listening to the muffled sound of laughter downstairs. I pounded my fist softly into the mattress, a small, frustrated sound. “You can’t keep doing this,” I whispered under my breath, my voice muffled by the sheets. ‘This’ meaning the way I let myself forget who I was, who he was, and the impossibility of our whole situation. The way I kept craving something forbidden.

Perfect for convincing a woman with no memories that we share more than a forgotten past. The revenge I’ve hungered for slides within reach at last.