Unholy Desire Novels & Stories

The hot water hits my tense back, the steam rising from the enclosure quickly filling the room. I sigh shakily, placing my head under the shower. Exhaling one shaky breath I replay yesterday's events in my mind Her hazel eyes flash before me, alluring, soft. My hands trail my navel, wandering down as I remember yesterday morning. My breathing shallows as I remember her jabbing her index into my chest, her hazel eyes darkening with an unreadable emotion. I imagined her pink lips wrapping around my fat cock. I flick myself, wrapping my arm around my length.

The heat wasn’t fading, and neither was the want. Eventually, the exhaustion of need won. My breathing slowed, but my heart still raced, pounding against my ribs like it wanted out. I buried my face in the pillow, curling tightly under the blankets. The note was still in my hand, the edges soft and warm from my touch, the images and desires stirring in my mind, unyielding. Sleep came slowly, restless and unsteady, filled with every touch, every forbidden thought I couldn’t shake. My body relaxed just enough to drift, but the ache, the want, the heat remained raw and alive, steaming under my skin even as darkness claimed my consciousness.

As she watched him being driven away, she knew that this was just the beginning of a complex and dangerous dance, one that would test the limits of her professionalism, her desire, and her very soul. This was the fourth criminal she was fucking and she knew she wasn't stopping anytime soon. These criminals are so hot and she wasn't ready to let go. Note: if you want more of Camila, you can request for it and I might create a book for that purpose.

Nyxara had always understood desire. Where others saw a primal storm—unpredictable, dangerous, impossible to harness—she saw patterns, predictable as clockwork. She’d taken desire apart, dissected its anatomy with the cold precision of a surgeon. She knew what made people hungry, what made them hesitate at the edge of the cliff, what made them leap anyway, desperate for something they could never quite claim. Most people thought desire ruled them. Nyxara knew better. Desire was a map, its roads twisting but chartable, its traffic signs visible to those who bothered to look. She could read it, wield it, weaponize it. To her, it was a tool. Controllable. Weak.

"Tell me, Nelson. Be honest." "I want—" He stopped, breathing hard. "I want to touch you. Taste you. I want to know if your skin is as soft as it looks. I want to hear you say my name when you come apart. I want to corrupt every innocent thought you've ever had." His eyes were dark, tortured. "And I hate myself for it." "Don't." She rose on her toes, her lips inches from his. "Don't hate yourself for being human. For wanting. For *feeling* something after all these years."

“Just this once, Nurse. Help a rich, spoiled boy out. I’ll make it quick if you want… or I’ll make it worth every single penny. Slow. Thorough. Whatever you need.” I swallowed hard, my throat tight. My nipples were painfully tight against the lace of my bra, straining visibly against the scrub top. My pussy was already wet, the slick heat soaking into my panties as forbidden desire warred with my better judgment. The risk was insane– career-ending, reputation-destroying. But the money… and the way he looked at me, like I was the only woman in the world who could satisfy him, like he’d been fantasizing about this exact moment since I first walked into his room…

“Oh God. Riley, we can’t. This is wrong.” Her lips tingled. Her body screamed for more. The ache between her legs had grown into a deep, pulsing need that made her shift uncomfortably in her seat. Guilt clawed at her, but so did desire. Dark, addictive, and already unraveling the careful threads of her marriage. Riley sat back with her lips curved in a satisfied, predatory smile. Her own breathing was ragged. Her eyes promised everything the weekend still held. “This is only the beginning, Alex,” she whispered. “And we both know you’re already wet for it.”

She tried the familiar prayers—the ones meant to quiet the body and return the mind to stillness—but the words arrived hollow, crowded out by the memory of Lila’s mouth forming the sentence that had undone her: *I’ve seen you before… somewhere you would be ashamed to admit you’ve been. She knew which night Lila meant. The novice wing. A borrowed phone. A single video watched in guilty silence while the others slept. She had told herself afterward that curiosity was not the same as desire, that looking once did not stain the soul permanently. She had confessed it in careful, incomplete terms and accepted her penance. She had believed the matter closed. It was not closed.

He said, and my amusement faded. “What?” I asked, surprised. The Elizabeth I knew would never want to be in the same space as me. What changed. “Now it is your turn to do so too.” I shook my head. “No.” “Lucas-” I didn't let him finish. “I’m not marrying a woman who can't stand the sight of me. I said I was going to fix it, and I will, but not by getting married to a woman I don't want.” “You should have thought of that before being involved in a scandal.”

“I can’t let you go. I love you. But I love him too. Maybe we could try an open thing. Or… a threesome. You, me, and Leo. It could work.” Lisa didn’t answer. She simply turned around, walked out, and kept walking until the neon lights of a club swallowed her. She sat at the bar and ordered drink after drink, trying to drown the hollow ache in her chest. She looked beautiful even in her heartbreak—long dark hair slightly messy, eyes glassy, lips trembling every time she lifted the glass. She had no idea that four pairs of golden eyes had just locked onto her from the private floor above. --- Upstairs, in a dimly lit private room, the DeSantis brothers were once again sharing a willing body.