The Time He Desires Novels & Stories

He looked at me and I nodded. "I understant. You are young and want to do fun things like, partying, going to the club having one-night stands." He chuckled, and I smiled, my heart ffluttered. "What's your name?" he asked me. A flash started and almost blinded me. "My name is—" My phone blared and I looked down at my alarm clock. Its midnight. I rushed leaving. "I have to go," I told him. "Wait. Just give me your name," he said desperately.

Before he could do or say anything, I continued saying, “I need time, I-I need to…uh…get to know you first. I’ve never done this kinda stuff, so please understand” I said hesitantly. Of course, I needed time, to get the hell out of here, to runaway. His eyes softened as he looked at me intently. “So you are one innocent little thing, hmm? I am going to enjoy ripping all that innocence away, bit by bit” he whispered, caressing my cheek with the back of his hand.

He just wanted to help her and them have more time together. “This isn’t rushing anything, baby. We have been together for months now. We spend all of our time together when I am not working in class, or you're not in a different one. I am willing to open up completely to you, and I want the same from you. You are more than just a fling. I once said we were lovers, and we have become more than that. The trust is there between us that we can try things. Come on and just say yes.” He nearly begged. “There are more things, of course. I want you to know that is how I feel. I mean, if you aren’t ready for this, I want you to know it is an open thing. I want you to have the time you need to figure

“I want the truth this time.” I closed my eyes. “Because… I saw you through the door, and I wanted—” “Wanted what?” “To know what it felt like.” The confession burned coming out. “To be looked at like that, like I was already yours.” He exhaled roughly against my neck. “Careful what you wish for.” I opened my eyes. His pupils were blown. “Still want out?” he asked quietly. I swallowed. “No.” His grip tightened. “Good.”

His eyes were straying all over her body endlessly and that was arousing something deep inside her. Joyce knew the message he was passing across. She smiled. "And your friend?" Releasing the door knob from his grip, he leaned against the door, drawing Joyce closer to himself, giving no space for air between them. He wanted her to notice he was aroused and she did. She only smiled in response to that. "I can actually come up with something. Or better still, we can go there later tonight. It's a club, anyway. Twelve or one am would not be that bad," he suggested and all she could reply with was a smile while she wrapped her hands around his neck.

he retorts, grinning devilishly. I hate that grin! “Any last words?” he says, grinning even wider, and I’m frowning even more. I slam my eyes shut, swallowing hard… “I really wanted to kill you. But do me a favor… can you walk up to me?” “I don’t get it?” he growls, obviously losing his patience. “I have this fantasy in my head, I’ve always daydreamed about it every night…” “Do you realize we are running out of time?” he interrupts angrily. “There’s no time to listen to your fucking story.”

And how is the baby? "Good," I muttered, wondering why his gaze had suddenly darkened. "I think I now know the reason for your sudden passion for me. It's the baby, right? You are trying to bargain with me for the baby, and that's very stupid of you." I wore a perplexed look as I asked, "What are you talking about? Yes, I want the baby, but there is no hidden motive for wanting you," I was angry and glared back at him. Why could he not accept what I offered? Why did he have to search for a hidden motive? "You are cruel in your demands, vengeful in all your motives, but gentle when you touch me. I did not want to admit it to myself, and most importantly, not to you, but I-I crave your touch a

“That’s the one thing I can’t seem to write.” “Why not?” he asked. “Because I don’t know how to describe it without sounding fake.” He studied me for a moment. “Maybe that’s because you think desire is only about the physical. But it isn’t.” I met his gaze, waiting. He continued, “Desire can be wanting to understand someone completely. It can be curiosity, admiration, or even silence between two people who can’t stop thinking about each other. It’s not always about touch.” His voice was low, steady, almost thoughtful enough to make the room feel smaller.

I asked no one in particular, but as though he could read my mind, “Do you know what you’re feeling right now, Miss Hayes?” he asked, voice low and close, so close his lips were brushing the shell of my ear. “Desire.” I stiffened. “No,” I said, though it came out breathy. Weak. “I don’t desire you. I hate you.” “Oh, I believe you” He chuckled, his grip on my foot not loosening one bit. “Newsflash, Miss Hayes: it’s entirely possible to want someone you loathe.” He said, standing up and pushing something...

The air hums—charged, unstable. “This time,” I say, “you can’t stop me.” For a heartbeat, doubt flickers in his eyes. Then it vanishes—crushed under years of ambition and cruelty. “I gave you time,” he snaps. “Years. I hoped you would find your fated mate. That love would tame you. That you’d finally accept your place and stop chasing fantasies.” He exhales sharply. “I wanted you peaceful,” he says coldly. “Quiet. Useful.” Then he reaches for my hands.