Hidden Desires Novels & Stories

It could only come from that abandoned sect, maybe they survived and flourished somewhere hidden from plain sight. Or maybe they were right under our noses. Just like Amaryllis was right under Fallon's nose, a sleeper agent hidden in plain sight. Many students continued to disappear. The most shocking news was the death of Valeria and Tessa, Ife still could sense the dark magic over their deaths. Jacob was going to come for her soon, he had cleared the path to her by eliminating his mate bonded family. Now only magic held his pack together, his mistress and their children taking over the Alpha quarters in the pack house.

Henry couldn't resist my requests, so he agreed. I loved the sea. Back when I was still studying, I often took walks by the seaside. Now, Henry pushed me slowly along the coast, and when we saw someone selling balloons, he bought one for me. I had heard that you could write a wish on a balloon, and when it floated up to the sky, it would tell the gods to make your wish come true. I took out a permanent marker and wrote down my little secret wish on the balloon. Henry wanted to see it, but I playfully covered it, not letting him peek.

To her, it was nothing more than a pretty and fragile mask, worn only to conceal the selfishness underneath. Still, she clung to a fragile hope that the secretary’s words weren’t true. She couldn’t afford any more complications, not now. And yet, no matter what she heard, no matter what ugly truths threatened to surface, Jessica remained the one person she cared for the most.

I was amazed and stunned at the same time. I walked into the place and it was a whole new place and world. “This is where the real office is at, Mateo.” She said to my ear and I nodded. ‘This dude Ethan is a crackhead.. What the fuck is he hiding having a secret room like this?’ “Now.. Can I get my dick?” “Got a condom?” I asked and she angrily shook her head. “Then do you want us to set up a date for it?” ‘I wouldn't mind fucking right now, but I guess I will pass for now and just dig into these files.’

Some ugly, over-curious, sensation-hungry streak that had survived all common sense and was now thriving in the dark like mould. I still wanted out. Of course I did. I had not forgotten that. I had not suddenly become one of them, or accepted any of this as fate, or decided that being bound in a hidden den by men who should not exist was some grand erotic adventure I had chosen freely. Escape still lived in me. It had to. But it no longer lived alone. That was the humiliating truth. It had company now. Curiosity. Excitement. The foul little thrill of not knowing what would happen next and wanting, against every sane instinct, to find out.

His face moved closer, only a few millimeters from Amber’s lips. “I did it to see how far you would lower yourself for money,” Dave whispered sharply. His eyes dropped to Amber’s slightly parted lips. “And when I saw you unbuttoning your shirt one by one… I realized something, Amber.” “W-what?” “I don’t like sharing a show.” Dave’s hand moved quickly, sliding his fingers into the hair at the back of Amber’s neck and forcing her to lift her face. There was no gentleness this time. This was the “wild” side of Dave he had hidden behind rumors.

"You will. Because you have no choice. And because deep down, a part of you wonders what it would feel like. To let go of everything. To no longer be responsible. To be nothing but an object. An object of desire and punishment." His words are poisoned arrows finding their target. It's my most shameful secret, this unhealthy fascination with surrender, with loss of control. How does he know? "I hate this," I whisper. "Hate and desire are Siamese twins, Célia. You cannot have one without the other." He leans in, his lips so close to my ear that his breath caresses my skin.

"I found your journal. The one you hide in your nightstand." My blood runs cold. The journal. The one where I write my darkest fantasies. The ones I've never told anyone — not Thomas, not my therapist, not my closest friends. Fantasies about being taken by multiple men. About being the center of attention, worshipped by strangers, fucked until I can't remember my own name. Fantasies I've had since I was a teenager, that I've never admitted out loud, that I've always been ashamed of wanting. "You read my journal?"

“I --- saw – “ My voice is shaking. It's my first time saying it out loud, and this time, it's a stranger I am talking to, “What did you see? How can I help? Tell me.” “I saw two people having sex in one of the rooms. I saw them by accident. I didn't mean to.” “What do you mean, sex? Do you mean two people being on top of each other?” “It wasn't what I saw but I know it is sex. I just can't recognize it quickly.” “The woman kneels in front of the man as she strokes and sucks his penis.” It took you a big amount of courage to say it out loud when suddenly --

Autumn had never truly believed in keeping secrets, lying, or avoiding reality. She knew she wasn't perfect—she'd told her share of little white lies, hidden things from her aunt, covered up crushes, failed quizzes, even fibbed about where she’d been after curfew back when she used to hang out with Calvin. But this? This was something else entirely. This secret throbbed in her chest like a second heartbeat, heavy and insistent, every time she glanced at the man lying in the spare bedroom. It was the kind of secret that demanded attention, refusing to be buried beneath ordinary worries.