When Contracts Turn To Forbidden Kisses Novels & Stories

Et‍han leaned forward, “Y⁠ou kissed m‍e like you were drownin​g, your tong‌ue was i‍n my m‍outh, you‌ he​ld me like” “Enough.” Adrian’s voic‌e slic‍ed through the words, low and dangerous. “Th⁠e contract is clear. No emot‌ions, no physical intimacy beyon‌d wh‌at I permit for discipline. Last night cr‌osse‍d a l​ine,⁠ I all‍owed weak⁠ness and it ends now.”‍

Reese insisted, his voice cracking slightly. Adrian's face darkened. With a sharp snap of his fingers, Mr. Turner materialized at Reese's side, a tablet held out silently. Numbly, Reese stared at the screen displaying a picture of Ashleigh and Adrian's wedding ceremony. He glanced at the woman peacefully sleeping on his shoulder, then back at the picture. This explained her earlier hesitance. "Considering your intentions might have been honorable, Reese Orwell," Adrian stated coldly, "I'll choose to overlook your transgression. However, your involvement ends now. Hand over my wife, or face the consequences."

The moment she had looked at me and then looked away and then reached for the bottle and asked about my wine in a voice that was performing casualness with more effort than the question required. Would you like more wine. I had said yes. Meaning something entirely different. I sat in the study and looked at the desk and thought about the contract in the drawer somewhere. The clean document with its precise clauses and its two year timeline and its instructions about what was and was not permitted between two people sharing a house and a fabricated marriage for professional purposes. I had written that contract. I had constructed it carefully. Every clause considered. Every term designed to m

This is me, in my room, in my light, at my launch, kissing Adrian Knight because I want to and because I have wanted to for eight months and because pure joy is, I am learning, the most honest thing I know how to feel. It lasts about four seconds. Then I pull back. And I look at him. He is looking at me with an expression I have never seen on his face before. Not the composed one. Not the careful one. Not the polished public version or the quiet private version or any of the other versions I have catalogued over eight months. This is new. This is completely, entirely open. “That,” he says. His voice is lower than usual. “Was not in the contract.” “No,” I say. “It wasn’t.”

She asked and he sat on the table, he was looking directly at her and she bit her lip. He slowly leaned towards her and Audrey could hear her heart race, he slowly kissed her and she reciprocated, she closed her eyes and he sucked on her lower lip. He pulled away after a few seconds and she smiled. “I can't get caught.” He replied and she cleared her throat. She smiled as she kept going through the papers, she suddenly frowned when she picked up a file. “What is this about?” She asked and Damien sighed. “It's a contract between a dom and a sub.”

was a surrender, a desperate plea whispered against the roaring tide of her fear. The ceremony, a stark contrast between sacred vows and a clandestine contract, unfolded with a chilling grace. The priest's pronouncements echoed in the cavernous space, the words "husband and wife" a stark reality that felt both alien and inescapable. Then, the kiss – a fleeting touch, a brand of possession, a silent acknowledgment of their precarious arrangement.

She planned to make him pay for his actions and subject him. "You know I can't offer you more than this," she cut off the kiss, breathless, her breathing in disarray. "We've signed a contract; we can only go this far." "We have already crossed that line," he buried his forehead in her in disagreement. "With kisses and caresses, we haven't infringed on anything," she tugged on his lower lip and sucked on it with a slowly torturous and exquisite sensuality, making him groan. "The problem would arise when your penis is tearing apart my insides."

And then, slowly, the confusion turned into a sick feeling as I realized I'd gotten everything very, very wrong. The contract laid out absolutely everything - how often we had to kiss each other at various events, when we'd break up, when we'd get back together, who we were allowed to tell about the "true nature" of this supposed "relationship," and much more. The final requirement was almost the strangest of all - it explicitly stated that physical acts of affection were "expressly forbidden outside of professional or public obligations." What the fuck was going on here? "What does this mean, exactly?" I said, pointing to the final requirement.

He hadn't been able to shake the memory of the one moment when they almost felt real—when their lips met in a kiss that was meant to be nothing but he wanted more. The kiss had been brief, but it stirred something inside him. Contractual was not how her lips had felt on his, nor the unsaid tension that simmered under the surface. He gave a strong breath in an attempt to get rid of the sensation, but it stuck to him like a second skin. The barriers separating them felt impenetrable, but he couldn't deny the pull. It was forbidden to break the terms of the agreement, their arrangement. A knock on the door took his attention away from his thoughts.

It’s a good thing that we are in the bathroom so there’s less chance that my voice was carried to the hallway. Mammon appeared offended by my outburst, which caused him to cross his arms. “When I kissed you.” Mammon grins wickedly, like he is proud of the fact that he bound himself to me without my permission. “I knew interesting things would happen if I stayed by your side.” “Break the contract!” I yell at him. “I don’t want to have a contract with a demon!”