The Diva Serves Forbidden Fruit Novels & Stories

I asked. Rebecca replied, “I miss you so much my son and It’s been four days since the last time I saw you and even if you forbid, no one can stop me from doing this. At the end, I am still your mother.” My mother acted as if I abandoned her and her choice of words was totally not hers but from the series she used to watch. She was fond of watching Netflix series like the Chilling Adventures of Sabrina, Lucifer and Curse. By the way, did I mention you that she was a former actress, and stopped her acting career when she got pregnant by my father.

Once inside, a wave of stale sweat, alcohol and sex hit me and I gagged, my stomach souring. The room was crammed with bodies dancing under the red light. I turned around, squinting, hoping I could spot her in the mass of bodies. I saw her, just beyond the pole dancers, whining her waist on the laps of a man. Sinclair. She looked up and her eyes landed on me. She gasped.

“Fuck this!!” he groaned. And then his lips met mine in fury, so fiercely that it might bruise. Desperate. Like he’d been holding back for too long. Like the guilt, the denial, the distance had all crumbled beneath the pressure of his want. My lips parted instinctively, a soft, startled sound escaped me as he devoured every inch of my breath. His hands left my throat only to frame my face, fingertips trembling. I melted into him. Arms curling around his neck. My legs wrapped around his waist like I was trying to tether myself to something real, something solid, even if it was forbidden.

The alcohol made me braver than I should be. He stares at me, bringing his jaw tight. “Do you not wish to talk? About that which made you run here?” “No.” I shake my head. I want to fuck. My hands start moving, like I've seen servants do at the palace when they thought no one was looking . His belt, I tug at. And since he did not stop me, I took a step forward and pull his pants open. His cock springs out, thick and all ready hard. It twitches; his veins pulse. I dropped down on my knees on the dirty floor, not caring what it is. My mouth is watering because I haven't tried this, but I have to.

No, Faith dances with a reckless abandon that draws me in, making me forget everything else. I watch as she attempts a pirouette, her body wobbling precariously. Yet, she refuses to give up. Her lips curl into a determined smile, and she pushes herself further. The room becomes filled with a sense of both vulnerability and strength—a potent cocktail that both mesmerizes and inspires.