Unholy Desire Novels & Stories

She breathed heavily, her chest heaving dramatically with each ragged gasp, desperate to catch her breath. “I want you to lay on the bed and spread those legs wide for me, little bunny. Show me that soaked pussy and touch yourself until I say stop.”

It forces me to feel like I’m fucking possessed, a creature of pure instinct and desire. I grip him tight, my body trembling with the effort, and begin to slam my pussy down against him, over and over, groaning, “Oh my God, fuck, oh yes!” My heat surges out relentlessly, a volcanic eruption of desire. My horniness is beyond comparison, a raging inferno that consumes everything in its path. God, I am not myself right now. I have never been this horny before in my entire life. It is dizzying, overwhelming, making me feel useless, powerless, making me feel immeasurably possessed by this primal urge. I’m grinding hard against him, a frantic, desperate rhythm. The wet slapping sound of our skins

Kyra is his obsession, his punishment, and his prey. Steven Blackwood doesn’t love he dominates, he torments, he claims. Resistance brings pain; surrender brings chaos. Trapped in his mansion, surrounded by fear, jealousy, and the shadowed eyes of those who serve him, she must navigate a world where innocence is weakness and temptation is unavoidable. Every moment in his grasp threatens to break her, and survival is not escape, it is submission to a man who bends desire and fear into a power only he understands. In the hands of a devil who refuses to be denied, she may lose everything…even herself.

I fight him for a heartbeat, hands pushing uselessly against his broad chest, but the sudden, desperate hunger that flares through me is a betrayal I can’t hide. I melt against him, my hands abandoning the fight to claw into the thick, dark hair at the back of his neck. I kiss him back with a furious, venomous passion that mirrors his own. Hate, fear, and a terrifying, white-hot need twist into one single, devastating sensation. He breaks the kiss, his eyes dark with the same brutal, consuming desire that’s currently tearing me apart. He doesn’t wait for me to recover. He grabs my hand, the one with the bandage, and drags me from the bathroom.

His eyes were almost black with hunger as they dragged over every inch of me. “Look at you,” he murmured, voice rough. “My innocent little stepsister lying there with her legs spread, pussy dripping, begging for her big brother’s cock. You have no idea how long I’ve wanted this. How many nights I stroked myself thinking about spreading you open just like this.”

I leaned closer to the screen. “I keep imagining him bending me over the altar after mass… lifting my dress… and fucking me so hard the entire church hears me screaming his name.” Complete silence. I could practically hear him struggling. “Angela…” Father Maxwell said, his voice suddenly lower and strained. “This is a sacred place. You must resist these… carnal desires.” “But Father,” I continued innocently, “it gets much worse. Every night I touch my pussy thinking about you. I wonder how thick and hard your cock is under that robe. I imagine you pinning me against the wall and stretching my tight little cunt until I can’t walk straight.”

“He’s just an arrogant, mocking jerk. I hate him I dragged my feet to the bed, but the anger was just a flimsy shield to cover the terrifying truth: Archie had reawakened the dormant, passionate fire inside me that Matthew had spent two months trying to beat to death. My body was completely starved, aching, and physically frustrated from my husband’s selfish, two-minute routine. It was already late in the night I still couldn’t find sleep Matthew was snoring beside me, dead to the world after our pathetic excuse for sex—if you could even call two minutes of him grunting on top of me “sex.” He’d rolled over, muttered “goodnight,” and passed out before I could even pretend I’d enjoyed it. I la

I can't stand my best friend's suspicious gaze after he would see my swollen lips. ~~~~ Having reached the house, I threw my bag on the couch and sunk on the floor beside it. My eyes can't stop tearing up with fresh new tears. That felt pathetic. I hate to be kissed. 'But you enjoyed it, didn't you?' Mocked by traitor heart. I can't understand why was it happening. I just wanted to shove it out of my head. I hate that cunning guy. He is a... A sex addict! Ethan Connor, the fucking hot guy is a pervert, a scoundrel, a mother fucking sex addict and more.

James got to his car and opened the door for his fiancee to alight. That was what they had planned that morning when Annabelle had uninvitedly visit her house to apologize and explain the reasons behind her actions. Joyce had found out that her story of being sexually molested by her uncle was true and Vivian had used that as her first weapon, promising to help her fly out of the country if she would obey her.

"You know, I still don't understand why you ran off like that." I turned seeing Trisha eyes narrow annoyance etched on her face. "What do you mean ?" I was quite taken aback from her new attitude. "Don't act like you don't know what I'm talking about, Samantha. Storm proposed to you five years back and confessed all his love for you, and you run off without an explanation. He was wrecked when he entered Yale, and I was there to comfort him. I'm so glad he moved on." She sneered at me.