
Forbidden Desires (short erotical stories)
Mature content (18+)
Readers discretion is advised
Different stories. Different desires. Unforgettable experience
Each story peels back to different layer of longing: forbidden, tender, dangerous, wild, rough, reminding you that pleasure can be thrilling.
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Chapter 4
I slipped into the downstairs bathroom, the cool tile under my feet a brief relief as I wiped away the sticky evidence of our kitchen fuck.
Warm water splashed over my thighs, rinsing Jade's cum from my swollen pussy lips, but the ache deep inside lingered, a throbbing reminder of how thoroughly he'd claimed me.
I fixed my makeup, smoothed my hair, and headed back out, the house quieter now with most guests gone.
Catherine had mentioned crashing in the den for a movie before bed something mindless to wind down so I wandered in that direction, my body still humming with illicit heat.
The den was dimly lit by the glow of the TV, a rom-com flickering on screen with the volume low.
Catherine was curled up on one end of the couch, eyes heavy, a blanket draped over her legs. And there, on the other end, sprawled like he owned the place which he did was Jade.
His gaze snapped to me the second I entered, dark and hungry, as if he'd been waiting. "Join us, Gabriella," he said casually, patting the spot between them. Catherine mumbled a sleepy "yeah, scoot in," without looking up.
I hesitated, pulse quickening, but slid onto the cushion, sandwiched between them. The movie droned on some predictable plot about forbidden love but my focus shattered when Jade's hand settled on my knee under the blanket Catherine had tossed over us.
His fingers traced lazy circles, inching higher with each passing minute. Catherine dozed off midway through, her soft snores the only sound besides the TV. Jade leaned in, breath hot against my ear. "She's out. Now it's just you and me."
Before I could whisper a protest, his hand plunged between my thighs, parting them roughly. I bit my lip to stifle a gasp as he shoved two fingers straight into my slick core, pumping hard and fast.
My pussy clenched around the intrusion, still sensitive from before, and I gripped the blanket to keep still. "Quiet," he murmured, his thumb grinding my clit in brutal circles.
"Or you'll wake her." The risk made it worse or better heat flooding me as he finger fucked me relentlessly, curling deep to hit that spot that made my vision blur.
I came undone fast, biting the inside of my cheek to muffle my whimpers, my walls spasming around his digits as juices soaked his hand.
He didn't stop, just withdrew and sucked his fingers clean with a low hum of approval. Then, in one fluid move, he stood, pulling me up with him. Catherine didn't stir. "Upstairs. Now." His voice was a command, brooking no argument.
We barely made it to the guest room before he had me stripped, dress pooling at my feet as he kicked the door shut.
He shoved me onto the bed face-down, yanking my hips up so my ass was in the air. "Spread wide," he growled, and I did, knees parting as cool air hit my exposed folds.
His belt clinked, pants dropping, and then his thick cock slapped against my ass cheek heavy, veined, already leaking pre-cum. He didn't tease this time; he rammed in balls deep with a single, savage thrust, stretching my pussy to its limits.
I cried out, the fullness overwhelming, but he clamped a hand over my mouth, pounding into me with ferocious speed.
His hips slammed against my ass, the wet smack of skin echoing as he drove deeper than before, his girth splitting me open.
"Take it," he grunted, one hand fisting my hair to arch my back further. Each brutal plunge hit my cervix, sending jolts of pain laced pleasure through me.
He fucked me like an animal, relentless, his balls slapping my clit with every stroke.
"On your back," he ordered after what felt like hours but was probably minutes, flipping me over. I gasped for air, legs trembling, but he hooked my knees over his shoulders and plunged back in, folding me nearly in half.
This angle let him grind against my g-spot mercilessly, his cock pistoning in long, hard drags that made my tits bounce wildly.
I clawed at the sheets, moans turning to pleas. "Jade... slower... it's too much..." But he just laughed, low and dark, thrusting harder, his thumb rubbing my clit until I shattered again, squirting around his shaft in a gush that soaked the bed.
He pulled out abruptly, cock glistening with my release, and grabbed my hair, guiding my mouth to it. "Suck it clean."
I opened wide, tongue swirling around the head to taste myself on him salty, musky before he shoved deep, hitting the back of my throat.
I gagged, tears pricking my eyes, but he held me there, fucking my face with shallow thrusts. "That's it, choke on my dick. Show me how much you want it."
Saliva dripped down my chin as I hollowed my cheeks, sucking hard, my hands stroking what I couldn't swallow.
Satisfied, he yanked me up, positioning me on all fours again but facing the mirror across the room. "Watch yourself get fucked."
He entered me from behind once more, slower now but deeper, making me feel every inch as he built the rhythm back to punishing.
I stared at my reflection face flushed, lips swollen, tits swinging with each impact as he railed me. Then he shifted, pulling one leg up to change the angle, his free hand spanking my ass red.
"Ride me," he demanded next, lying back and hauling me astride him. I sank down onto his cock, gasping at the stretch, and he gripped my hips, forcing me to bounce hard and fast.
My pussy gripped him tight, inner walls fluttering as I ground down, clit rubbing his pelvis. But he took control, thrusting up viciously, making me yelp. Sweat poured off us, the room thick with the scent of sex.
We switched again he stood, lifting me against the wall, my legs wrapped around his waist as he bounced me on his dick like a ragdoll.
Gravity drove him impossibly deep, bruising my insides. "Please... Jade... stop... I can't..." I begged, voice breaking, orgasms blending into one endless wave of overstimulation.
Tears streamed down my face, but my body betrayed me, hips rolling to meet his even as I pleaded.
He ignored it, dropping me to the bed for missionary, pinning my wrists above my head. His thrusts turned erratic, hips snapping with brutal force.
"You can take it. Beg all you want I'm not stopping until I've filled every hole." But he stayed in my pussy, pounding until he roared, cock swelling as he erupted, pumping load after hot load into my clenching depths. I came with him, screaming silently, body convulsing.
He collapsed beside me, both of us wrecked, my pussy a ruined, dripping mess. "Good girl," he panted, tracing a finger through the cum leaking out.
"But we're not done yet." My heart raced how much more could I endure before I broke completely?.
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8.1
"I don't share my women, Adele. Breeder or not. Go on your knees." He instructed, his hands going to unbuckle his trousers.
My heart burned with hatred as I clutched the knife behind me. "Of course, Alpha Loic. I was wondering... If you were to choose between a quick death and a slow one, which would you choose?"
I smiled brightly. He was taken aback for a moment. Then his face twisted in anger. "Have you forgotten your place so soon, Omega? Go down on your fucking knees."
"Omega? Aww. Adele would be so hurt. Tonight, I'll pronounce your death. The Alpha of the Vanguard pack, killed by fire. Touchè." I snapped my hands, and fire sprang up from all corners, encircling the room, with us in it.
"Y-you are not Adele. Who are you?" His eyes widened.
...
The Demon Queen, a name that struck terror in the minds of mortals and werewolves alike. Who'd have thought she'd meet her end during one of her adventures at a nightclub?
After being struck dead by the Alpha of her most hated race, Ophelie returns in the body of a wolf-less girl with only one mission in mind. To kill her murderer.
But sometimes, things never go as planned. When love is thrown in the mix, Ophelie finds herself and her previous plans swaying.
Refusing to kill Loic is to lose herself and her powers. What would she choose?

8.6
"What do you think people would say if they found out you don't have a dick?" Christian asked, his voice low and dripping with seduction. His hand pressed firmly against my crotch, fingers exploring the flat, unfamiliar emptiness there. A devilish smirk curved his lips. "Or if they discovered these voluptuous breasts you've been hiding so well?"
A strangled moan slipped from my throat as his hand slid under my shirt, his fingers brushing over my hardened nipples, teasing them with slow, deliberate strokes.
"Which do you think they'd call you?" he murmured, eyes gleaming. "A boy with tits... or a dickless little fraud?"
I stared into his hungry blue eyes, words failing me.
"The term you're looking for is 'girl,'" came Xavier's smooth voice from the bathroom doorway. He stepped inside, closing the door behind him with a soft click, his gaze raking over me with open interest. "So tell me, little girl... what the hell is someone like you doing in an all-boys dorm?"
Christian's smirk widened. "She wants to be devoured by boys like us." His fingers gave my nipple one last firm pinch before he leaned in closer, breath hot against my ear. "And I'll be more than happy to give her a taste."

8.6
Chosen Wolf
8.6
Danni's world shatters the day her father dies. Her mother has become a hollow shell of who she once was, and Danni is left to pick up the pieces alone. Every day feels like a battle just to breathe, to move, to find something resembling normal. Then her ex shows up - stirring old wounds and turning her already broken life into chaos. As if that weren't enough, the people she trusted most begin acting... strange. Secrets twist around her like shadows, and nothing feels real anymore. And that's when he appears - the mysterious stranger who keeps showing up just in time to save her. There's something familiar about him, something that tugs at her soul. But the more she dreams of the haunting white wolf that stalks her nights, the more she wonders if her mind is unraveling... or if something far darker is calling to her.

8.6
I was the untouchable Mafia Queen, but my reign ended in the blood-soaked depths of a damp dungeon.
My half-sister, Kelsey, drove a rusted, sharpened spoon into my chest, screaming about the unfairness of fate.
In my past life, my father sold me to the ruthless Don Dante Blackwell as collateral to pay off his debts.
To survive, I took a black-market fertility drug, birthed his heir, and clawed my way to the throne through sheer ruthlessness.
But in the mafia world, a pregnant woman isn't a queen; she's a walking target.
I survived countless bombings and poisonings, only to be betrayed and slaughtered by my own family.
Until my last breath, I couldn't understand. I had sacrificed everything to secure our survival in the empire. Why did my blood and tears only earn me a rusted spoon to the heart?
Opening my eyes again, I am seventeen, sitting in my father's drawing room.
Two black velvet boxes sit on the mahogany table.
Kelsey greedily snatches the box containing the fertility drug, her eyes gleaming with feverish triumph.
"I'll take this one, Papa."
She thinks she is stealing my golden ticket to the crown, completely unaware that she just chose a death sentence.
I lower my gaze, letting my eyelashes mask the cold, lethal amusement pooling in my eyes as I take the remaining box.
Inside is the detailed psychological profile of the Don's dead fiancée.
This time, I won't be a breeding mare fighting off assassins. I will dissect the devil himself.

7.3
Jolene flies to Italy broke and desperate for a PA job. She walks into the wrong room and finds a man naked in the shower. She can't stop staring. He notices.
The interview is brutal. Two men, Marco and Enzo, tear her apart, humiliate her, and dismiss her. She thinks she failed.
Then Enzo gets in the car. It was all a test. They wanted to see if she'd break. She didn't. The job is hers.
But they don't want a normal assistant. They want control. They touch her when they want, stand too close, give orders that cross every line.
On her first night, Marco tells her to take off her blouse.
Jolene has to choose: obey or walk away with nothing.
The problem? Part of her doesn't want to leave.

8.2
My brother, at the whim of his new girlfriend, fired our entire security team, leaving my mother and me alone in our isolated lake house. I had a premonition of a violent attack, but he just laughed and called me a drama queen.
That night, my vision came true. Intruders stormed our home, and my mother took a crowbar to the chest to save my life.
I escaped through the blizzard, bleeding and desperate, to my fiancé Cristofer' s cabin. He met me with a cold smirk.
"Broderick warned me you'd pull a stunt like this."
He accused me of faking it all for attention, then beat me until I tasted blood, leaving me on the floor.
My brother and the man I was supposed to marry had branded me a liar while my mother was dying. They had chosen to believe a fantasy over my reality.
But as I lay there, broken, Cristofer's phone rang. It was the sheriff, confirming a 911 call about a home invasion and a critically wounded victim at our address.
Their world of lies was about to come crashing down.