Falling for the Forbidden: 10 Full-Length Novels

by Jessica Hawkins

  “Not gonna last long.” His sharp breaths husk the air. “We’re doing this together.”

  He shifts his touch to my tender clit and applies a solid, rolling pressure. My hips reach for it, grinding and rocking against his fingers. Right there, right there.

  A spasm of tingling heat explodes beneath his diabolical caress.

  He jerks against my tongue, his forehead falling against my chest as he strokes us into a moaning, trembling orgasmic duet.

  I greedily swallow his release, panting beneath the wave of my own. His cock twitches against my lips, and my inner thighs quiver through the remnant aftershocks of orgasm number seven.

  He tucks himself away and frees the shackles, lifting and moving me, limb by melted limb. I hang like a rag doll in his arms as he carries me to the piano bench and arranges my legs in a straddling position around his waist.

  I slump against him, chest to chest, skin on skin, and hug his broad shoulders. “That was the worst torture ever.”

  Chuckling, he kisses my cheek and reaches behind me, fingers on the keyboard. With a deep breath, he envelops us in a gentle song, tranquilizing my hammering heart with Pink Floyd’s “Comfortably Numb.”

  I curl up against him, soaking in the flex and sway of his body as he plays. The tempo of his breaths synchronizes with the melody, pacing my own. His skin, so soft and warm, smells woodsy and masculine and safe. I bury my nose against his neck and fill my lungs.

  With my arms and legs hooked around him, I cling to the pillar of his torso. This brutal man is my home. His hell is my heaven.

  I’m his Ivory, and he’s my darkest note.

  No matter what happens, I will never resent this. I’ll never regret him.

  He closes the song on a low, deep key and slides his strong hands across my back, massaging my spine.

  Hugging me tighter against his chest, he lowers his lips to my shoulder, his tone quiet, gentle. “I didn’t know she was pregnant until after…”

  After Shreveport. After her betrayal.

  I kiss his neck and run my fingers through his hair as bitterness flares inside me.

  “She’s seven months along.” He breathes in, out. “The baby could be mine. Or not.”

  I lift my head and find his stark eyes. “Do you think…?”

  He blinks, his expression conflicted. “I don’t know. There was never an indication of cheating, and I’m pretty fucking observant.”

  Hard to argue that. “Then why do you question it?”

  He tucks my hair behind my ear, his fingers lingering on my jaw. “I never thought she would betray me the way she did. If she can do that…”

  “She could cheat.”

  He lowers his hand to stroke my hip, his eyes following the movement. “When I took over Shreveport, I worked long hours. Day and night. I was rarely home.”

  She could’ve been doing anything during that time. With anyone. Maybe he wasn’t so observant back then?

  I swallow around the ache in my throat. “Why was she at the clinic today?”

  His gaze lifts to mine. “I’ve been ignoring her messages. Only way she knows how to find me is through my dad.”

  “What does she want?” My voice shakes with fragile nerves. “To reunite with you? Pick up where you left off?”

  “Yes.” He grips the back of my neck when I start to pull away. “She wants my money, Ivory.”

  I find that hard to believe. Anyone with half a brain must know that any love this man offers is more valuable than all the wealth in the world.

  Leaning forward, I comb my fingers over the short hairs on the back of his head. “How much money are we talking?”

  “Half of my inheritance. Millions. I would gladly give it if I knew the child was mine.” He folds his arms around my back, holding me against him. “I gave blood months ago in my demand for a paternity test. She’s yet to provide the results.”

  “That doesn’t bode well for her. I mean, if the child is yours…”

  “This would be a done deal, and she would be a very wealthy woman.” He looks down at me, his eyes swirling in thought. “She knows my terms. I want those test results. If the baby isn’t mine, she doesn’t get a penny, and I’ll never have to see her or think about her again. If it is mine, I’ll be a father in every sense of the word.”

  And Joanne will be fully embedded in his life. My heart stutters and breaks.

  He cups my neck, searching my face. “There is no Joanne and me. I’m yours. Tell me you understand.”

  I close my eyes against the intensity in his. “You said you love her.”

  “I also said I hate her.” With a deep sigh, he lowers his forehead to mine. “Then I found something more meaningful than love and hate.”

  I stop breathing, my eyes fluttering open. “What?”

  “You.”

  My pulse jolts with the rapid rush of my breaths. How can he shred my trust and stitch it back up so thoroughly in the span of such a short time?

  “I’m sorry, Ivory. I should’ve told you.” He rubs my back. “You have enough to worry about, and I just… I trust my instinct, and it tells me she’s lying.”

  “I forgive you.” Deeply. Endlessly. I rest my head on his shoulder. “What happens now?”

  “I never wanted to threaten her career. I don’t get off on leaving her jobless with a baby. But I need to know if that child is mine.” The muscles beneath me harden with tension, and his tone sharpens. “She has until next weekend to prove paternity. If she doesn’t meet the deadline, the Shreveport Board will receive damning photos of their dirty, deceitful Head of School.”

  Emeric

  The following week passes in a blur of restlessness. With Lorenzo Gandara still on the loose and my constant paranoia about my living situation with Ivory, I’m on edge, irritable, and fucking exhausted. Adding to my stress is my orchestra performance this weekend.

  Between nightly meetings and dress rehearsals for the symphony and Ivory’s private lessons and homework, there’s little down time. We spend half of our waking hours together, but we’re focused on school, piano practice, and the necessary chores of everyday life.

  The few times I’ve been able to pin her down with my fingers in her cunt, we’re either rushed or exhausted. Not fucking her is torment worse than death, but the timing and my focus needs to be perfect.

  I want to date her, and I’m frustrated by my inability to do that. She’s never been treated to a romantic dinner or spun across a dance floor, all dressed up for a night out and appreciated by a man who simply enjoys her company. I ache to give her those things, without the expectation of sex. But venturing out in public with her has to wait.

  The reminder that she’s only seventeen tempers some of my impatience. She has an entire life yet to experience, and I intend to be a part of it.

  In the meantime, I cherish our brief moments before sleep, those small spaces of time when she curls her body around mine. With the shedding fur ball nestled between our feet, we share stories about our lives, random pieces of ourselves, until she drifts into dreamland. Without fail, I lie awake for long hours after, holding her tightly as the looming news of three pivotal things monopolize my mind.

  One, it’s Thursday, and I still haven’t heard from Joanne. Not a call or a text. Logic tells me if the baby is mine, she would’ve provided the evidence months ago. But she gets off on mind games and making me wait as a means to control me.

  Two, my dad expedited the blood work from Ivory’s exam, and the results are due any day. Once I have her clean bill of health, I won’t be able to stop myself from fucking her into next week. I know she thinks she’s ready, but she’s yet to use her safe word. When I fuck her, will she lie beneath me—like she’s done for every other dickhead—and silently will me to stop? Or will she be with me, making a conscious choice to surrender completely?

  I need to find at least one of her hard limits and force her to confront it. Then I’ll know.

  The final thing occupying my mind is Lor
enzo Gandara. After implementing my plan to remove him as a threat to Ivory, I’m stuck in a holding pattern, burning to see it come to fruition. The wait is maddening, making me question the sagacity in my approach. Maybe I should’ve handled him more directly, legal risks be damned.

  Doesn’t help that Ivory asks about him every fucking day. I’ve been honest with her about the current proceedings, but if it doesn’t pan out, I haven’t enlightened her on my intent to straight-up murder that motherfucker.

  I doubt she would care as long as it doesn’t interfere with her dream. Ivory’s nothing if not ambitious. She lives by the motto, Everything is possible, and her everything is the ivory tower of Leopold. I’m not in a hurry to upset the tenuous balance between her and me and the dean, but when the time comes, Ivory and I will have some decisions to make.

  On a positive note, Prescott Rivard appears to be cooperating. I assigned his activity to my PI, his phone calls and movements all monitored discreetly and reported back to me. There’s been no indication of retaliation.

  On Friday, everything changes.

  The afternoon arrives in a rapid succession of phone calls and messages. The explosion of disruptions makes it impossible to lecture so I give the students some busy work and bury my head in my phone. Ivory watches me curiously from her desk, her brow lifting in a What the hell are you up to? arch of suspicion.

  I give her a hard glare, but on the inside, I’m barely holding myself together. By the time the final bell rings, I’m unable to keep my rabid fucking emotions at bay.

  When the last student exits the classroom, I slam the door shut, yank Ivory from her desk, and crash her against the nearest wall.

  She yelps, stretching her toes to reach the floor. “What are you—?”

  I attack her mouth and devour her lips, starving and possessed, my hands flying over every inch of her I can reach, stroking, grabbing, holding. My cock hardens, and my pulse detonates. No more waiting. I fucking need her.

  “Someone…will…see,” she pants between kisses, both pushing and pulling against my chest, her attention straining toward the window in the door.

  I bite her lips, thrilling in the soft feel of her body along the length of mine. “No lessons tonight. Go home. I’ll meet you there.”

  With a stupendous amount of will power, I release her and storm toward my desk.

  “What happened?” She stares at me, eyes wide and frozen where I left her. “Is this about—?”

  “I gave you an order,” I say quietly, harshly.

  Turning my back on her, I stuff my belongings in the satchel, my blood roaring with heavy, urgent need. If she doesn’t leave right this second, I’m going to fuck her against the whiteboard.

  The instant her footfalls fade down the hall, I straighten my swelling cock, making it less visible with the tip pinned beneath my belt. Then I trail behind her at an unassuming distance. Outside, I watch from the main entrance as she crosses the parking lot and safely climbs inside the Porsche. Same thing I do every night. Except tonight is different.

  Tonight, the wait is over.

  The three-minute drive feels like three hours. I race through the house and find her in the kitchen with Schubert burrowed against her neck.

  She nibbles her bottom lip, her huge brown eyes round and watchful. “You got the test results?”

  The paternity test? Her blood work? Whichever one she means, I’m too worked up to draw this out.

  Separated by the length of the kitchen, I take a step toward her. “The baby isn’t mine.”

  She buries her expression against Schubert’s furry head.

  “Don’t do that.” I inch closer, ten feet away, and take in her quickening breaths. “Never hide from me.”

  Setting the cat on the floor, she gives him a pat on the rump. Then she straightens and faces me head-on. Her lips thin, but the smile in her eyes is blinding. “Are you…happy about it? Or did you want…” Her gaze dims, her voice barely a whisper. “That baby?”

  Two months ago, I would’ve been devastated by the proof that Joanne so callously cheated and pissed away our life together. But now? I’m floating on a cloud of liberated emotions, and the chief of those is gratitude. I want to thank her for being a traitorous cunt. If she hadn’t betrayed me, I would still be with her, completely oblivious that the deepest, strongest love shines from brown eyes and a selfless, seventeen-year-old heart.

  Another couple of steps, and I stop. Six feet away. I need to tell Ivory the rest before she’s within arm’s reach. Before I lose the grip on my control. “I want a child. Several, in fact. Someday. In the very distant future. With you.”

  She touches her parted lips as a ragged inhale shakes her chest.

  I take another step toward her and tap anxious fingers on the island. “Lorenzo has been detained.”

  She gasps and places her hands on the back counter, breathing deeply.

  With a rap sheet a mile long, he’s wanted on suspicion of robbery, drug possession, and assault with a deadly weapon. My PI identified his routine and hangouts, turned the information over to NOPD, and leaned hard on the police sergeant until priorities were adjusted and the arrest was made.

  Tears well up in Ivory’s eyes, her hands shaking against the granite surface. “How long?”

  “He’s looking at years for multiple offenses. The bail is set at two-hundred-thousand.”

  She nods as a trembling smile unfolds across her lips. “Thank you.”

  When she moves to come closer, I stop her with a strained expression. I want her. Too much.

  She tilts her head and licks her lips. “You believed me when my own family called me a whore and a liar. I’ve been running from him for four years, and in one week, you removed him from my life.” She stares at me in awe. “Emeric, you’ve done something no one has done for me in a really long time.”

  She doesn’t clarify what that is, but I can fill in the blanks. I’ve made her feel safe.

  “I wish it was more.” I flex my hand on the island, holding her gaze. “I want him punished for rape, Ivory. If you change your mind about pressing charges, I’ll be with you every step of the way.”

  “No.” Her jaw sets. “I want to move on.”

  She’s worried he’ll come after her, and frankly, I am, too. I don’t want her connected to his demise in any way. He won’t be locked up forever, and I’ll have to deal with his inevitable freedom when that day comes. But there’s less risk for Ivory if he’s not blaming her for the next however many years he’s rotting in a cell.

  As for the best piece of news I received this afternoon… I close the final few feet between us and prowl around her, lightly gliding my knuckles up her arm.

  She shivers, turning her neck to maintain eye contact.

  I pause behind her and grip her wrists. With her body facing the counter, I flatten her palms on the cabinet door above her head. “Don’t move your hands.”

  She smiles at me over her shoulder. “If I do?”

  Brat. I slam a hand against her gorgeous ass.

  She flies up on tiptoes, head dropping back with a squeak of surprise. But her hands remain where I put them.

  “Such a good girl,” I whisper at her ear, causing her entire body to tremble.

  Her responsiveness is such a fucking turn on. I’ve been hard since the day I met her, but I’m finally, finally, going to slacken this long-suffering ache between us.

  Unless she uses her word.

  I cover her hands with mine, pressing them against the cabinet, a silent reminder. Then I move down her bare arms, fingers stroking skin, then shifting to caress around the outer curves of her breasts.

  She holds still for me, but there’s a subtle sway in her posture as she lifts and leans toward my touch, her head tipping and eyes alert, following my every movement.

  I roam my hands over the stiff material of her black dress, tracing the outline of her muscles and hipbones beneath. When I reach the hem at her knees, I gather the dress up her thighs, over her s
upple ass, and let it cling around her waist.

  With her eyes turned to watch me, her lashes lower as I slide my mouth down the back of her dress. She sighs, bowing against the counter and dropping her head between her raised arms.

  Crouching behind her, I fill my hands with her high round cheeks. The black lace panties look so damn sinful on her. Too bad this is the last time she’ll wear them.

  I grip the tiny straps around her hips and yank.

  The sound of ripping lace brings her head around. “I liked those.”

  “I’ll buy you a hundred more and rip every fucking one of them off your gorgeous ass.”

  As I stand, I reach around the front of her legs and drag the tips of my fingers up her inner thighs. Her trembling limbs and husky moans scorch heat through my cock, engorging it to painful steel.

  When my hand encounters the soft hair on her pussy, I tug hard on the short strands. She bites down on her lip, muffling a gasp.

  My heart pumps faster, harder. I press my chest against her back, kick her feet apart, and slide my finger along her slit.

  Her head falls back on my shoulder, and her mouth chases mine. I dodge her, tickling my lips along her jaw, down her neck, blanketing her skin with my breaths.

  “God, Emeric. I’ve never felt like this.”

  “Shhh.” I nibble on her shoulder, let her feel my teeth, my tongue, and the heat burning me up inside.

  Her head rolls, exposing her neck to my kisses. I suck on her ear lobe, circling my tongue as I plunge my fingers into her slippery cunt. Fuck, she’s so warm and wet and tight.

  She whimpers and rubs her ass against my cock, propelling my teasing touches into a panting, grinding imperative. Our bodies roll together, fucking without penetration. My cock is lined up, but my slacks are in the way.

  I thrust my fingers in her soaking pussy, savoring the clench of her inner walls. “You’re clean, Ivory.”

  Her hands twitch against the cabinet door. “Clean?”

  “Your test results.” I slide my touch toward her anal rim. “We’re both clean.”