Falling for the Forbidden: 10 Full-Length Novels

by Jessica Hawkins

I stormed back into the bedroom, going straight for Andrés. His brows rose in surprise, but my unexpected ire didn’t slow his reaction time when I launched myself at him.

  He dodged to one side, catching my fist where it had flown past his face. His other hand caught me in the center of my chest, knocking the air from my lungs as he shoved me away. I fell, my back hitting the mattress. His weight settled over me as he straddled my hips and pinned my arms above my head with one hand. My legs kicked out uselessly as he locked the chain to the front of my collar, tethering me to the bed again.

  He gripped my jaw, stilling my wild thrashing. “What’s this about?” he demanded.

  “You leave Dex alone,” I shouted at him, jerking desperately against his hold. “I’ll kill you if you do anything to him. I swear, I’ll kill you.”

  His fingers tightened around my face to the point of pain, and he snarled down at me. “I have no interest in this man. And from now on, neither do you.”

  “But you said Cristian would kill him if he found out,” I said, panic seizing my senses. Oh god, I’d betrayed Dex for an orgasm. How could I do that?

  “I am not my brother,” he growled, the words so garbled I could barely discern them. “I won’t torture you or threaten the people you care about to get what I want out of you.” He leaned in close, so I could feel the heat of his anger slapping against me. “I don’t need to torture you to get what I want.”

  “And what do you call tying me down and whipping me until I scream? Is that not torture?”

  “If you knew what torture really was, you wouldn’t have to ask,” he said roughly.

  “And how would you know?” I challenged. “It’s not like you’d ever let anyone whip you until you cried.”

  “You think I don’t cry when I’m hurt? You think I don’t bleed when I’m cut? You think I don’t scream just like any other man in pain? I might not be sane, but I’m still human, Samantha. Don’t talk about things you don’t understand.”

  I stared up at him, wide-eyed. “Is that how your face…” I trailed off when he bared his teeth at me in feral rage, his scar twisting into something terrifying.

  “Don’t talk about things you don’t understand,” he repeated, enunciating every word. “And don’t say your friend’s name ever again. I don’t want you to even think about him. I’m the only man you should be concerned with, the only one you should think about. Your purpose is to serve me, to please me. No one else.”

  “Please,” I forced out, my eyes watering. “You’re hurting me.” His fingers were digging into my face, hard enough that I thought I might bruise.

  He instantly released me and rolled off me with a curse. He didn’t look at me as he stiffly crossed the bedroom to his wardrobe and started getting dressed.

  “Andrés?” I asked timidly.

  He didn’t respond.

  I decided I believed him when he said he wouldn’t go after Dex. He seemed furious that I’d even think he’d hurt someone I loved in order to hurt me.

  I will never cause you harm, not your body and not your heart. I remembered the promise he’d made me. Maybe he did hurt me when he flogged me. And maybe he did enjoy my pain. But he’d never lied about what kind of monster he was.

  Guilt nipped at me. Someone had hurt him. That should have been obvious from the very beginning, given his scars. But I’d been so focused on how scary they were that I hadn’t stopped to think about the pain he must have endured when he got them. Not to mention the reminder of it when people cringed away from looking at his ruined face. I hadn’t been able to bear looking at him when I’d first seen him. What must it be like to have people flinch at the sight of you?

  “I’m sorry,” I said quietly.

  He stiffened further, and he stopped in his tracks. After a few tense seconds, he spoke, but he still didn’t turn to look at me.

  “I got something for you,” he said. “It’s on the tray next to your breakfast.”

  I glanced at the food cart that must have arrived while I was still sleeping. A large, gift-wrapped box sat beside the covered tray.

  “What—?”

  “I’ll see you tonight,” he cut me off and strode out of the room.

  Curiosity spiking, I went straight for the gift rather than the bacon. I tore off the iridescent white paper and pretty blue bow to find a plain cardboard box. When I opened it, my jaw dropped.

  “Wow,” I whispered, running reverent fingers over the laminated, first edition X-Men #101 comic book. The first one featuring The Dark Phoenix. It must have cost a fortune. Not to mention acquiring it so quickly. I’d confessed my geeky cosplay kissing session to Andrés like, two days ago. And only yesterday I’d appealed to him about my boredom. How had he managed to get this for me?

  He managed with all his drug money, I reasoned. But that didn’t stop me from picking up the comic.

  Another first edition of the following book lay beneath it.

  And another beneath that.

  I carefully, lovingly removed each one and laid them out on the bed beside me so I could stare at them in awe. In all, there were twenty collectable comic books that told the entire Dark Phoenix story arc. It was any nerd’s wet dream, including mine.

  Okay, maybe I wasn’t actually wet from looking at them, but the knowledge that Andrés had been paying such close attention to the little things I’d told him touched me somewhere deep inside. He might be a sadistic psycho, but he could be thoughtful. Kind.

  God, I’m going to turn into Lauren, I rebuked myself.

  Still, there was no denying that giving me the comics was a small act of mercy. Apparently, Andrés didn’t want me to go completely insane from being left alone with nothing but my own racing thoughts.

  Even though I was almost hesitant to touch them, I was desperate enough for reading material that I eventually opened them. I knew the stories already, but being able to handle these precious editions in person rather than reading reproductions of them on my computer screen was an entirely new experience.

  I barely paused to talk to Lauren when she brought me lunch. She didn’t seem keen on talking, anyway. And after hearing her disturbing take on Andrés—how nice she thought he was—I didn’t really want to discuss it with her any more.

  Despite taking my time with them, I’d been finished with the final book for quite a while before Andrés returned for the evening. I’d actually started re-reading #101 and was almost done for the second time when he came into the bedroom.

  I beamed at him, high on nerd-endorphins. “Thanks,” I said, genuinely grateful.

  He blinked at me, momentarily stunned. Then he grinned. “You are even more beautiful when you smile than I imagined.”

  My smile faded at the reminder of our real relationship dynamic. He wasn’t some nice boyfriend who’d bought me a cool gift. He was my captor.

  “You’re manipulating me again,” I accused.

  “So you don’t want the comic books?”

  “No,” I said quickly, clutching #101 to my chest. “I mean, I want them. I um, actually already read all of them. But I’ll read them again,” I babbled on, not wanting him to take them away if I sounded ungrateful.

  His brows rose. “You read all of them today?”

  “I tried to go slow, but they’re so good,” I said. “And I process things really fast. I usually do more than one thing at a time to stay occupied. But this was good,” I hurried on. “Way better than staring at the ceiling.”

  “I’ll have to get you more, then,” he said, smiling again.

  “You don’t have to get first editions,” I replied. “I like newer stuff, too. Graphic novels are awesome. Works by Frank Miller and Alan Moore are great.”

  “I’ll get those for you, then,” he said. “And more first editions.”

  “But I just said you don’t have to. I’ve read most of them online, anyway.”

  “But they made you smile. So you’re getting more. Don’t argue with me, Samantha,” he said sternly before I could prote
st further. “I’ll put in an order tonight, and they’ll be here in the morning.”

  “How did you get them so fast?” I asked. “These had to be really hard to find.”

  “There was a store in New York that had them in stock. I sent someone to go get them.”

  “But I just told you I was bored last night.”

  He shrugged. “It’s not a long flight.”

  I gaped at him. “You flew someone from Chicago to New York and back again overnight to get me some comic books?”

  “Yes, and it made you smile. So the fifteen minutes it took me to set it all up was more than worth it.”

  The full power of what his dirty money could get him came down on me like a hammer, deflating the last of my joy.

  “What’s wrong?” He sounded a little strained.

  “I don’t want anything you bought with your Bliss money,” I said quietly.

  His jaw firmed. “You’ll get the books, anyway.”

  “I won’t read them.”

  “That’s your choice. You’ll still have them.”

  I glared at him. “You’re trying to manipulate me again. You know I’ll go out of my mind and end up reading them if they’re in here.”

  A small smile tugged at the corners of his lips. “If you already know this, then why bother fighting me on it?”

  “Because you’re a smug bastard, that’s why.”

  He shook his head at me, but his smile didn’t waver. “I’m going to find a better use for that dirty mouth.”

  He crossed to the bed and unlocked the chain from the bedpost. He kept the length of it attached to my collar.

  “Come,” he commanded, coiling the chain around his fist and tugging gently. The pressure on my neck forced me to scramble to my feet.

  “Where are we going?” I asked, having no choice but to follow him as he walked out of the bedroom.

  “What was it you so charmingly called it?” he mused. “Oh, yes.” He shot a wicked smirk at me. “My torture room.”

  I tried to stop in my tracks, but he kept walking. The chain pulled taut, and I stumbled forward. I fisted the metal links in both hands and yanked. His arm barely tugged back toward me, but he stopped and turned to face me.

  My chest rose and fell rapidly, my breaths coming too fast as my heart raced.

  “I don’t want to go in there,” I said, my voice higher than usual. “I won’t cuss at you again. I won’t.”

  He shook his head, but the tilt of his lips was almost indulgent. “You will. You can’t seem to help yourself.”

  “I’ll try really hard,” I promised. “Just don’t take me in there. Please.”

  He took a step toward me. I flinched back. He frowned and pulled on the chain, forcing my body to tumble against his. I clutched at his shoulders for balance, but his hands had already closed around my waist to prevent me from falling.

  “This is part of your training,” he said calmly. “It will feel good. Not everything in that room is meant to cause you pain.”

  “It scares me,” I admitted on a shaky whisper, remembering my helplessness when he’d flogged me.

  Shock obliterated my growing fear when he leaned in and softly pressed his lips against mine. I tried to jerk away from him, but his hand curved around the back of my head, holding me in place while he continued the kiss. It was gentle, coaxing. My lips began to shape to his, and he increased the pressure of his mouth on mine, turning more demanding. My body softened against him, even as my fingernails curved into his shoulders, clinging on tight.

  He growled and nipped at my lower lip. I opened for him on a gasp, and his tongue invaded my mouth, sweeping in to claim me hard and deep.

  This kiss was different than our first. That one had been punishing, branding. This one wasn’t tender, but it was more careful. A slow, thorough seduction.

  He didn’t stop until I was desperate to draw breath, and when he finally pulled away, I gasped for air, my knees going weak as oxygen hit my system. He held me tightly against him, supporting my sagging weight with one strong arm around my lower back. His erection pressed into my hip, straining against his slacks. He still wore his suit, and I was still naked. The power dynamic should have been disconcerting, but my head was spinning from his scorching kiss.

  “Are you still scared?” he asked, running his fingers through my hair.

  I leaned into his touch without thought. “No,” I said, my voice strangely husky.

  “I promise this isn’t going to hurt,” he swore. “Only pleasure today.”

  “But I cussed at you.” I didn’t understand. “I called you a bastard.”

  “I heard you the first time,” he said drily. “We’re going to train your mouth. From now on, every time you curse at me, you’re going to make it up to me by using your tongue another way.”

  I trembled against him, knowing exactly what he meant. “I don’t… I haven’t ever…”

  He continued to stroke my hair. “I know you haven’t,” he said, his tone low and soothing. “I’m going to teach you. And I’ll make it feel good for you, so you associate my cock in your mouth with pleasure.”

  “You’re trying to condition me again.” My accusation came out more shakily than I’d intended. “I don’t like when you do that.”

  “You’ll like this.” His arm slipped from my lower back, his hand skimming over my bottom before dipping between my legs. He cupped my sex, his fingers playing through my soft folds. Pleasure began to pulse at my core. I couldn’t help but respond to his touch.

  “Did you know your body is capable of having multiple orgasms?” he asked as he played with me. “I wonder how many you’ll have before you can’t take any more.”

  “Please…” I wanted him to stop, before I couldn’t stop myself. Heat coiled in my belly, and my lower lips grew slick with my arousal.

  “Please make you come?” he asked, lightly mocking. He sensed my internal struggle, and it seemed to amuse him. “Not yet, sirenita. You have to come into my playroom first.”

  “It’s a torture room,” I countered breathily.

  “It’s where I play with my fucktoy. That makes it my playroom.”

  “I’m not your fucktoy.”

  “It’s not an insult, so there’s no need to look so spiteful,” he said, still amused. “You’re my toy, my plaything, my pet. And you love when I play with you and pet you. See? You’re creaming all over my hand.”

  “Just because my body feels one way about it doesn’t mean I like it.”

  “Don’t lie, cosita. You wouldn’t have watched all that kinky porn if you didn’t like it. If you didn’t long for it.”

  “I longed for—” I cut myself off before I said Dex’s name. I wouldn’t risk that again. “I don’t want this with you.”

  “Then why am I the only man who’s ever touched you? You were so skittish at first. Do you really think you would have found pleasure with someone else? They wouldn’t have understood how to handle you. Not like I do. You need a firm hand.”

  “I don’t,” I protested weakly. I really was getting embarrassingly wet as he spoke, responding to all the twisted, crass things he was saying about me.

  He brushed a kiss over my lips. My head tipped back in response.

  “No more lies,” he murmured against my mouth. “You don’t have permission to speak. I’m not going to gag you, but know that there will be other consequences if you defy me. The next time you use your mouth, it will be to suck my cock. Once I come down your throat, you’ll be allowed to talk again.”

  I gaped at him, and he traced the O of my lips with his fingertips.

  “Just like that,” he said with satisfaction. “I’m not going to force your mouth, but you will accept me before we leave the playroom.”

  I shook my head in denial, not daring to utter another word when I knew he was about to take me into the torture room, whether I wanted it or not. But no way was I going to take his cock in my mouth of my own volition. Just the idea was dirty.

 
Dirty. Wrong.

  Dirty little girl.

  “Cosita,” he said firmly, his fingers threading through my hair. The light pull against my scalp grounded me. “Don’t be afraid.” It was an order. “This is new for you, but I’ll guide you through it. You’re safe with me.”

  Safe.

  I felt myself nodding, even though that didn’t make any sense. All I knew was the fear that had been creeping at the edges of my mind had subsided, and I was grateful for Andrés’ commanding touch.

  Inexplicably, I felt secure in his firm arms. When he finally released me and began to walk toward the playroom, I followed him without further protest.

  Chapter 13

  A shudder rolled through me when Andrés flipped on the crimson lights. My gaze went straight to the spanking bench, and I took a small step back toward the sitting room.

  "No, cosita," he said soothingly, wrapping his arm around my waist and guiding me forward. It might have been a sweet gesture, but the way his fingers curled around my hip communicated his control. "We're not using the bench today," he promised, leading me past it. "Do you know what this is? You have my permission to speak."

  I blinked and looked down where he pointed. I recognized the black device that curved up in a half-sphere, the flat side resting on the floor. It was built to be straddled. If I went down on my knees, the curve would fit between my thighs as I lowered my weight onto it.

  "A Sybian," I answered breathily, knowing exactly what it was.

  "Such a clever, kinky virgin," he said with pleasure.

  "But I can't... There's not a dildo attached." In all the porn I'd seen, women rode huge dildos as they bounced up and down on the vibrating machine.

  "My fingers and my cock will stretch your tight little pussy before I put anything else inside you." His hand tightened possessively on my hip. "The vibrations will be strong enough that you'll feel it everywhere. Your clit, your pussy, your ass. I don't need to fill you with a fake cock to make you scream in pleasure."

  "That... That sounds... intense," I said, fumbling over my words. It certainly didn't sound painful. Quite the opposite. But it also sounded like I'd come unraveled if the pleasure was as intense as he claimed. I'd confessed my deepest secrets to him in exchange for orgasms already. What would I do when subjected to this?