Falling for the Forbidden: 10 Full-Length Novels

by Jessica Hawkins

  With my fingers on the backs of her calves, I trail them up her legs, speaking softly yet firmly. “Remove your shoes.”

  As she toes them off, her swift obedience builds a hungry pressure in my groin. My hands trace the rise of her ass, and my lips follow the dip of her naval. She gasps and rolls her hips, her fingers plunging into my hair, clinging to me for balance.

  Fuck, I want her on my cock, clenching and spasming and giving herself to me in every way.

  I kick the sneakers to the side and guide her feet out of the jeans and socks. With featherlight touches, I tickle the serpentine line of her spine and toy with the clasp of her bra while rising up her body and kissing a sensual path between her breasts.

  Her head falls back, and her slender frame rocks in my arms. She smells like jasmine soap, sultry with arousal, and exquisitely Ivory.

  My cock jerks in my jeans, trapped and demanding. Not yet.

  I tease the clasp of the bra, my mouth gliding across her delicate collar bone. Moving higher, I kiss the slender column of her neck and nibble along her jaw.

  Our foreheads touch as I unlatch the bra and flatten my palm against her spine. Our breaths rush out, melding together, our lips gravitating closer, closer. When our mouths finally connect, she melts against me.

  My hands lift to her face, thumbs stroking her cheekbones as I devour her seductive moans. I kiss her aggressively, ordering her without words to trust me. I whip my tongue against hers, a promise of impending pain and ecstasy. Her mouth parts in acceptance, and her hands clutch my waist, pulling me against her.

  I break the kiss and let my fingers linger on the straps on her shoulders. My eyes never leaving hers, I gently slip the bra down her arms. Her nipples are so hard the lace catches on them. I slowly ease the material away, exposing her delicious flesh. She exhales sharply as the bra falls to the floor.

  Jesus, she’s perfection. I need to bury myself inside her and struggle to think past my raging hard-on.

  Taking a step back, I let my gaze roam her long, lean body, worshiping every flexure, twitch, and fragile bone as she regards me with round eyes. Full perky tits rise with her breaths, narrow hips shift with anxiousness, and a wet spot darkens the satin of her pink panties.

  Her body loves my touch, but her mind hasn’t forgiven me. If I don’t let her take the next step on her own, she’ll only feel worse afterward.

  I nod at the panties. “Take them off or say your word.”

  Biting her lip, she hooks her thumbs under the satin, glides it down her legs, and kicks it away. Her gaze never leaves my face, watching me with wariness, curiosity, and undeniable desire.

  I prowl around her, reveling in her stunning nudity and the way her breaths stop and start with each of my steps. My finger traces the scrollwork pattern inked from her waist to the opposite shoulder.

  She shudders against the sensation, panting and craning her neck to see me.

  I press my chest flush with her back, fingers teasing her hipbones. “You’re going to tell me about that tattoo. Not now.” I rest my mouth in the juncture between her neck and shoulder and lick. “Maybe not today or this week.” Sliding my hands around her pelvis, I dip between her legs and slip through her wet folds. “But you’ll tell me soon.”

  She releases a heavy sigh and arches her neck, tipping her head to the side to give me easier access.

  I set my teeth on her shoulder and bite down. She whimpers and writhes against me, her arms lifting and fingers seeking my hair.

  Kissing the hurt, I step back. “Follow me.” I lead her to the Fazioli and point to the ledge above the keyboard. “Sit on the edge. Legs spread. Right foot on the lowest keys, left foot on the highest.”

  Her expression pinches with uncertainty, but she climbs into position, filling the silence with random notes.

  Nylon straps snake from beneath the piano and over the lid, two on each side and all four connected to leather cuffs. I attach two to her wrists and cinch them behind her with a hard yank. She gasps.

  With her arms restrained at her back, her eyes track my movements, lips separated and shoulders lifting. She seems to be fighting her posture, battling the fear that’s pulling her body in on itself.

  As I cross in front of her, I caress the backs of my fingers along the inside of her outstretched leg. “What is the word that makes this stop?”

  “Scriabin,” she breathes, watching me cautiously.

  “Will you use it?”

  She nods with a flutter of fear in her eyes. “If I need to.”

  “Good girl.”

  With the other two cuffs, I lock her ankles against the molding that brackets the keyboard. Then I stand back and absorb the erotic view before me.

  Perched on the edge of the lid, thighs spread wide enough to hold the entire keyboard between her feet, and arms restrained behind her, she’s a picture of lust and torment, strength and trust. Her pussy is open, pink and drenched, begging for my cock. Her tongue peeks out and touches the underside of her bottom lip.

  I’ve never wanted anyone the way I want her. Not just her body. I want her everything. She is the strongest emotion I’ve ever felt.

  I adjust the throbbing ache in my jeans. “I’m so fucking aroused I want to roll over and die.”

  “Dead is one way to get rid of that erection.”

  The playful glint in her eyes makes me impossibly harder.

  “Or.” She bites her lip. “There’s…you know, the other way.”

  I hold her in a suspended moment of eye contact as my hand strokes along my trapped cock. “Is that what you want, Ivory? Your cunt is soaked and ready for me. I could slide right in and fuck you so hard you’ll feel me for days.”

  She averts her gaze, nostrils flaring and muscles straining in the shackles. She might’ve been ready to surrender this morning, but not now. Not after seeing my ex.

  “Look at me.” I wait for her eyes then reach for my belt. “You get two strikes for referring to anyone but yourself as my girlfriend.”

  “But Jo—”

  “Don’t say her fucking name.” Heat courses through my veins. “We’ll get to that, but right here, right now, this is us. You and me and no one else.”

  Grooves form in her forehead then smooth away. “Fine. Two strikes.” The corner of her mouth lifts. “Do your worst.”

  She’s smiling now, completely clueless about where I’ll be doing my worst.

  I cock my head. “As for the attitude you gave me on the phone…” I yank the belt free from my jeans and fold it in half. “Six orgasms for your six bratty comments.”

  “Orgasms, huh?” She laughs, relaxing in her restraints. “Gee, that sounds like torture.”

  My lips twitch. Oh, it will be.

  Ivory

  The edge of the piano lid digs into my ass, and the muscles in my inner thighs strain in the locked and spread position. But it’s the heated blue gaze tracing every line of my body that holds me captive. I straighten as tall as possible, my heart banging and body aching for Emeric’s hurt and affection.

  Since I’m sitting on his usual target, where will he hit me? My thighs? My back? I look down the expanse of my torso, and a chill tingles across my neck. With my legs extended wide and arms bound behind me, my tits and pussy are front and center. Surely, that’s not…

  My gaze flies up, but he’s not looking at my eyes. His attention is glued to my chest, his fist clenched around the ends of the belt. No, he wouldn’t. Not somewhere so vulnerable. My nipples throb at the thought.

  Stalking toward me on silent feet, he slides the bench to the side and puts his face in mine, studying my expression, watching me breathe, peering into the darkest, most depraved parts of me.

  I swallow. “Where are you going to—”

  He crashes his mouth against mine, licking and sucking and spinning my brain off its axis. Gliding his lips along my neck, up and down, slowly, achingly, he covers my throat in whispers of pleasure. My head drops back on a gasp. His mouth is so gentle and safe i
t’s like he’s kissing my soul. Please, don’t stop.

  His hand joins in, lightly stroking up my side and over my breast. Those four fingers, four tiny points of contact, charge my veins with electricity and strum my body through multiple arpeggios in a matter of seconds.

  “I need you.” The words rush past my lips, breathy and unbidden.

  “You have me,” he says softly, lowers his head, and bites my nipple.

  I yelp, consumed with pain, jerking against the manacles and going nowhere.

  He laughs and bites again, pulling on the nub with his teeth until it throbs and stretches out of shape.

  When he moves to the other one, I hold my breath and shake my head.

  His lips graze my nipple, teasing, and his eyes flicker to mine with so much need swirling in the deep blue depths. “Breathe.”

  The moment I do, he sinks his teeth. I shriek in agony and buck my hips, slipping off the edge. He catches me, sliding my ass back in place as his teeth tear into my sensitive flesh, sucking hard and setting me on fire.

  “Stop!” I sob, twisting my wrists in the shackles. “Please, stop.”

  Rolling his tongue, he licks the godawful burn, his voice a razored rasp. “I don’t hear your word.”

  Tears flood my eyes, and my entire body quivers like a harp string.

  He leans into my face and bares his teeth. “Say it.”

  I suck on my bottom lip and look down. Fucking hell, it feels like he sliced my nipples off, but they’re still there, huge, hard, and angry red. Not a drop of blood.

  He steps to the side and taps the folded belt against his leg. “Where’s the cocky little brat from just a moment ago?”

  “You bit my boobs!”

  “You just increased your orgasm count to seven. Are you finished?”

  If he’s trying to provoke me to say the word, he’ll have to try harder.

  I twist my wrist behind my back and flip him off. Too bad he can’t see it. “I’m good.”

  He raises the belt and touches the loop of leather to my nipple. A torrent of tremors ripple through me.

  His eyes meet mine, lower to my chest, then return to my face.

  I harden my expression and lift my chin.

  Time stands still as his head tilts, and his mouth opens slightly. Then he swings.

  Leather whips across my swollen nipple in a fiery flash. A gasp lodges in my throat, and tears blind my vision. He doesn’t give me a second to regroup before he strikes the other breast.

  My back bows, and I swallow my scream as my mind scrambles to make sense of the pain. How did I get here? Why am I letting this happen? What in the holy fuck am I doing?

  The belt hits the floor, making me jump. He reaches behind his neck and drags the t-shirt over his head. Denim hangs low on his tapered waist, his bare chest flexing and bunching with dips and ridges.

  In the next breath, he’s on me, hands in my hair and lips chasing the tracks of tears across my cheeks.

  “So beautiful when you cry for me.” He sprinkles kisses across my eyes, nose, and mouth as his fingers stroke my hair. “Oh, Ivory. You have no idea what you do to me.”

  The rumble of his voice and the tenderness of his touch soothes the fire in my nipples and stokes a new flame deep in my core.

  “Tell me,” I say, my voice reedy.

  He drops his forehead to mine. “I’ll show you.”

  Dragging the piano bench closer, he sits. The position puts his mouth inches from my pussy. Fingers spread over the keys, he dives into a raucously violent song. Another metal cover, but I can’t place it. I’m lost in the banging notes, shivering against the pain in my breasts, and wondering if those seven orgasms will be his or mine.

  I test the bindings on my ankles, my legs twinging in the extended stretch. “What song is this?”

  His eyes dart between my lips and my pussy, his hands pounding the keys. “‘Symphony Of Destruction.’ Megadeth.”

  Never heard of it, but sweet hell, it sounds ominous.

  He leans forward and presses his mouth against my inner thigh. My entire body stills in anticipation as he slides his lips toward my center. His hands move manically over the keys, and when he reaches the crease in my thigh, he changes direction without a slip in the melody. He licks a path to my knee, nibbling and sucking my skin, then shifts back once again toward my cunt.

  With his lips hovering above my clit, the song changes to one I immediately recognize.

  I burst into groaning laughter. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

  He flashes me a grin before he buries his face between my legs. As he curves his tongue through my folds, the piano vibrates to the tune of “Smells Like Teen Spirit” by Nirvana.

  The swarming sensations beneath his lips plunge me into a panting mess of desire. He probes deeply with stabbing strokes, and when he finds my clit, it doesn’t take long. I’m already primed with all the touching and kissing, and hell, even the whips on my breasts made me wet.

  I come with a loud, gasping moan, rocking my hips against his relentless mouth as my limbs jerk in the restraints.

  His hands fumble over the keys, losing the rhythm before picking it back up again.

  “That’s one,” he says in a husky voice.

  I meet his eyes, panting and shaking. “There’s no way. I—”

  Can’t say I can’t. But seriously? Six more? He’s way too diabolical with his punishments. I’m going to die.

  He presses a kiss to my clit then attacks it with lips and teeth. I scream through orgasms two and three. After that, I no longer hear the music or feel the vibrations through my limbs or see the room around me. Every sense narrows on the tongue inside me and the deluge of climbing and falling sensations attacking my body.

  After the fourth release, I reach a strange floaty kind of catatonic state. My pussy tingles with over-stimulation, the nerve-endings in my clit stinging against the lightest stroke of his tongue. But he doesn’t stop. Not when I tell him to go to hell or call him a sadistic bastard.

  He silences me by clamping his teeth around my bundle of nerves.

  He’s not playing the piano anymore, because those talented fingers are inside me, banging me into a torturous hell of pleasure.

  “You have to stop.” I sway in the restraints, my spread legs shaking with exhaustion. “Please. I’m done.”

  His soaking wet lips burrow in, kissing and licking, his groan thrumming a different kind of song through my core. A moment later, he curls three fingers inside me and wrings another agonizing orgasm from my body.

  “Six.” He leans back and wipes his mouth on the back of his hand. “The last one will be with me.”

  “No more.” My head is so heavy my chin drops against my chest as I suck for air. “Please.”

  He lifts my chin with his finger, his gaze burning against my lips, his voice a ragged whisper. “I love when you beg.”

  He stands, and with a few flicks of his wrists, he releases my hands and legs from the straps.

  I slump against him, my muscles like water, pouring out and falling over. But he has me, my limp body held in strong arms and supported against a damn fine chest.

  The heat of his forearms disappears from my back, replaced with the hard surface of the piano lid. He lays me face up, feet pointing away from the keyboard, shoulders on the edge where I’d been sitting. My head dangles upside-down, bumping against the keys.

  My already hypersensitive skin flushes hotter, and blood rushes to my brain with the pull of gravity. “What are you doing?”

  He circles the piano, inspecting my body as if memorizing every inch. His fingers tickle along my skin as he moves, starting at my throat, gliding along my sternum, veering around my belly button, and lingering between my legs.

  My pelvis lifts toward his touch, straining to maintain that point of contact. Despite the fact he just finished biting and welting my breasts and torturing me with orgasms, I want more. He must have short-wired my brain.

  Locking the cuffs around m
y ankles and wrists, he effectively pins me like an X on his Fazioli. When he returns to my head, he gives me an upside-down view of the steel rod pushing against his zipper.

  He opens his fly. “You know how hard to suck.” Shoving down his jeans, he releases his sizeable cock, the pink skin taut over the wide girth. “You know how fast or slow to move that wicked tongue.”

  Heat pools and throbs between my thighs with every word.

  Touching the crown to my inverted mouth, he fists his length and smears salty pre-come across my lips. “Tap your right hand against the piano if you want this to stop. Tell me you understand.”

  “I—” My pussy clenches, empty and needy. Such a foreign feeling to experience. “I’ll tap if I need to.”

  He wraps a hand beneath my dangling head, his fingers serving as a buffer between my skull and the wood casing. With his eyes half-mast and steadily watching mine, he grips his erection, rubs the shaft across my cheeks, and thumps the tip against my lips.

  I open my mouth, instinctively, eagerly. Do it already.

  His gaze flicks down the length of my body as he presses himself against my tongue. His exhale shudders out, and he thrusts.

  He doesn’t ease in. He ruthlessly and repeatedly plows. Over and over, he stabs his cock past my lips, fucking my mouth as if he were plunging between my legs.

  His thighs flex against my forehead as he clamps his fingers against my scalp, tangling in my hair, and holding my head immovable. I can only lie there, hands and legs tied down, throat relaxed, and jaw stretched for his pleasure.

  Bending over my chest, he squeezes my breast with his free hand, pinching the nipple and tormenting it with his hot mouth.

  I surrender in drugged wonderment as his length drives deeper against my throat, his hips grinding and rolling with his urgency. This is what he would look like if he was filling my pussy. The strain of his muscles, flex of his ass, and ram of his cock compose a seductive dance of intensity. He gives as much as he takes, his hunger spreading over my skin, garbling my moans around his pounding length, overtaking me.

  Holding my head against his thrusts, he slides the other hand over my stomach and hooks two fingers inside me, sparking a needy clench through my inner muscles.