His Desire Novels & Stories

I whisper, my heart pounding in my chest. His eyes burn with a deeper intensity, as though he's unlocking a door I never even knew existed. "Noticed that you're more... driven by desire than ordinary?" he asks, his voice now heavy with something darker, more possessive. "You want me, Diana. And of course you should. There’s absolutely nothing wrong with desiring your mate. But dulcis… you want me even at times when your mind should be preoccupied with something else." I freeze. The shock hits me like a tidal wave and my heart skips a beat. I’ve felt it.

What exactly do you want, Jace Liester? He figured that I was still confused and probably overthinking about this whole situation. But in reality, I wasn’t. I was fed up. I was so fed up because I couldn’t understand what he wanted. At first, he acts aloof, doesn’t want to do anything with us and now he’s suggesting...sharing?! “What is it?” he asks again. I stare at him, and I find him staring back at me. He was different right now. Kind of soft or...decent.

“I’m sorry. No,” Desiree stepped back from Gerald, feeling that what he was asking her was too intimate. Gerald sulked, feeling disappointed, but he knew that he’d been pushing his luck with that one. He slowly got back to his feet. “I want to be able to do this every day, Desiree.” A dreamy smile tipped his lips. “To feel our princess… to feel her grow with every passing day. To talk to her and let her know that I’m eagerly awaiting her arrival.”

"But just so you know, I'm doing it for Michael Power's daughter and not your wife." "Believe me, Senator," I say, correcting the cuff links of my shirt as I dust invisible dust off it. "If Michael Powers had the slightest clue that you could help him, he would have been the one threatening you now." The Senator lifts an eyebrow, watching me smirk. "Thank you for your time, Senator." The doors to the room are thrown open suddenly and Desiree walks in. "Sorry to bother you men but Harley wants to go home, Mr. Everest," she tells me, giving an apologetic look to her fiancé. "She says she's not feeling well."

And he won't stop until he's gotten what he's wanted. "What does he want?" she panted, racing heartbeat in her chest as she listened, with every passing second the tension in her body growing. Dante breathed deeply, his voice heavy with regret. "He desires you. He has pursued you for years. But it is not you that he desires—it is everything. He desires to possess it all. The company, the power, the legacy. And he will stop at nothing to obtain it."

Frank grinned softly and shook his head. "Just kids being kids," he replied smoothly. "Have a good evening, Mr. Clausen. Desiree." Desiree shivered. "Good night, Frank," she murmured. She scurried out to her car to avoid Dan. He was a pompous ass, and he would bad-mouth Frank. Desiree didn't want to hear it. She was already annoyed with him. If he hadn't shown up when he did, she was sure Frank had been on the verge of making her fantasies come true. She plopped down in her car and shivered when her fingers found her drenched pussy. God, I want him so bad! she thought.

'I do not want to be consumed. He made a harsh sound and slapped the space on the settee beside him in frustration. Did she truly believe that he sought to consume her? He would never! He was infuriated. Was it wrong to desire her by him? To wish that she would choose him above all else? Was it so unreasonable that he could not desire as much?! He exhaled, commanding his emotions. An unsettling thought arrived. He did want her, but did she wish to stay with him?

“Because I didn’t think you were joking when you said you liked me.” Ethan looked down at the table, trying to steady his hands. The memory of the backyard, the confession, the first real moment they’d shared—it all made his chest tighten. “Still a dare?” Noah teased lightly. “Or was that just the first step toward admitting you’ve wanted this too?” Ethan’s throat went dry. “I’ve wanted it,” he whispered. “For a long time.” Noah’s grin widened, dangerous and warm at the same time. “Finally,” he said. “Finally, you admit it.”

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.

Just because he wants to. I let him. And I feel something settle into place. Desire isn’t louder now. It’s truer. It doesn’t spike and crash. It doesn’t demand constant affirmation. It doesn’t fade when things feel calm. It thrives there. Later, curled up together, I voice a thought that’s been forming. “I think this is the first time I’ve felt desired without feeling consumed.” He considers that. “And I think this is the first time I’ve wanted someone without needing them to fill something,” he replies.