Forbidden Desires Read online

  Forbidden Desires

  Jaimie Roberts

  Contents

  Dirty Little Secret

  First Time Ever I Saw Your Face

  Backstabbers

  Crush

  In the Air Tonight

  Anything Can Happen

  Hurts

  Your House

  Just Like a Pill

  Damn I Wish I was Your Lover

  I Hate U I Love U

  Guilty

  El Paso

  Going Under

  Father Figure

  Forgiveness

  Be My DownFall

  The Sweetest Taboo

  Secrets

  Rescue Me

  No Ordinary Love

  My Hero

  I Hate Boys

  Can’t Help Falling In Love

  In Your Eyes

  Borrowed

  Secrets and Lies

  Jealous Kind

  I’ll Keep Holding On

  Blackmail

  Piece by Piece

  Heaven

  Trust in Me

  Secret

  Because You Loved Me

  You’re Still the One

  Excerpt from AMNESIA

  Excerpt from AMNESIA

  Excerpt from AMNESIA

  Excerpt from DEVIANT

  Excerpt from SIREN

  Notes & Acknowledgements

  Other books by Jaimie Roberts

  Author Bio

  FORBIDDEN DESIRES

  Copyright © 2019 Jaimie Robert

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any other information storage and retrieval system without the written permission of the author, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

  This book is a work of fiction, all names, characters, places, and events are the products of the author’s imagination, or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locations is entirely coincidental.

  All rights reserved. Except as permitted under the UK Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.

  Dirty Little Secret

  The All American Rejects

  Present

  My head thumps against his desk. Fingernails grip my hips. The pungent aroma of raw, passionate fucking punches the air as our moans echo off the walls of his plush, expansive office. I close my eyes, a small smile gracing my lips as I draw in every thrust and grunt he has to give.

  "Fuck, you feel so good, Savannah. So. Fucking. Good."

  His grip tightens, fingernails digging even deeper into my skin, causing a gratifying pain to ripple through me. I'm close—so very close. My heightened moans and quivering body signal my impending explosion. So accustomed to our rendezvous, he’s acutely aware of my body.

  "You're going to have to come soon. I don't know how long I can last."

  He thrusts violently, the table quaking beneath us. He's getting angry. The veracious animal wants out. "Come, you fucking bitch!" he seethes, slapping his hand against my clit.

  Like every moment before, I fall apart. So masterful in his efforts, it’s useless to even try to resist.

  Mr. Owen Montgomery is the respectable CEO of Montgomery Cars, a company with several locations across the United States. They find the best for the best, selling only classic and muscle cars that exceed a hundred thousand dollars. When working for him, he treats me like the lady he knows I am, but when it comes to the bedroom, all bets are off. I'm able to appreciate the true Mr. Montgomery—the one who spanks me until I shudder beneath him.

  "Fuck, Savannah, you're going to make me come," he shouts as my orgasm continues to rile through me. His grip on my hips tightens as his own climax starts to take over. With a roar and one final violent thrust, Owen comes, his rock-hard body collapsing on top of me.

  For a moment, we're speechless—too breathless to even talk. He pulls himself up enough to kiss the spot just between my breasts, a rare tender moment I delight in.

  "I hate wearing these fucking things. I want to be able to come inside you—make you mine," he growls.

  I roll my eyes. We seem to have this conversation every time we finish having sex. "You know why we can't. I tried going on the pill and it made me sick. Condoms are the only solution."

  "It's not the only solution, and you know it."

  Not liking where this is going, I start to maneuver, pushing him off me. "Owen," I grumble, managing to break away. "I'm not going to put myself through a long-term situation when what we have isn't going anywhere."

  A hand flies around my neck, holding me in place, his steamy eyes burrowing into mine. "You're mine, Savannah. Fucking got that?"

  Slapping his hand away, I wave my own, dismissing him. "Yes, but for how long?"

  "For however long I fucking say."

  I shake my head, amused. "Such a fucking caveman."

  "Like you can't stand that idea. If you don't, then why do you keep visiting my dick every chance you get?"

  Still tucked inside me, he pulls me up so we are face to face. "I could stop, but you’d never let that happen."

  With a smirk, Owen closes the distance between us, our lips a hairsbreadth away. "Damn fucking right I wouldn't."

  A loud thudding of a door bangs, startling us.

  "Owen! Savannah!" For a fraction of a second, we freeze, our eyes widening. We didn't expect her back so soon.

  "Owen! Savannah! Where are you?"

  Owen pulls out of me, tugging the condom from his now limp dick. He grabs some tissue, placing it inside before swiftly shutting it in one of his drawers. I scramble from the desk, quickly buttoning my blouse and straightening my skirt. I run around to the other side, fixing my hair, before grabbing the pad and pen on the table. Owen straightens his pants and sprays some aftershave to drown out the aroma of our fucking. I snicker for a moment, and he smiles back.

  "Owen, Savannah, I was calling you. Didn't you hear?" she asks as she walks into the office.

  Owen turns the sweetness up a notch as she comes into view, but it's more sickly-sweet than tender. She bends down, kissing him on the cheek. "I'm sorry, darling. Savannah and I were busy going over the Christmas bonuses for this year."

  She utters a tsk under her breath. "But it's Saturday—family time. You shouldn't be tucked away in your office making the poor girl work. That's unfair."

  I smile up at her. "I don't mind. We’ve only been here an hour. We're almost done."

  Placing her hand on Owen's shoulder, she focuses her attention on me. "Don't let him work you into the ground, sweetheart."

  I nod, a cheesy grin forming on my lips. I can’t stand the woman, and she’s not my biggest fan either, but we manage to play happy family in front of Owen. "I won't."

  Her nose crinkles, looking around the room. "What's that smell?" She then looks down at Owen. "Are you wearing aftershave?"

  "Yes, an early Christmas present from Savannah. Do you like it?"

  “It's…interesting, I guess."

  I bite my lip until it's almost painful. My heart thumps inside my chest while Owen looks as cool as a cucumber, his shoulders relaxed and smile carefree. How can he appear so nonchalant when we almost got caught?

  "Listen, don't be too long, you two. We have guests coming over in three hours." Floating on her feet, she strolls around the desk toward the door. "I'll tell Claudia and Marc to start preparing the food." She disappears, but I don't bother to shift in my seat toward her. "Oh, Savannah," she says in her sickly-sweet voice. I pivot, catching her false, fluttering eyelashes as she clutches the door. "Terry Vendable will be joining us, and he’s very intereste
d in meeting you. Why not put that gorgeous red dress on that makes your eyes pop?"

  I plant on my fake smile. "Yes, Mom.”

  The sentiment she returns doesn’t meet her eyes. She’s as fake as I am. "Lovely. See you two soon." She swiftly shuts the door behind her, and I swing round to face Owen. His hands grip the edge of his desk until his knuckles become white.

  "That was close," I say, letting out a breath.

  "If I spy you anywhere near Terry Vendable, I'll kill him."

  I let out a sigh. "Stop being so melodramatic. It's only a dinner party."

  He grits his teeth, his jaw ticking with obvious irritation. "I mean it, Savannah. No one touches you but me."

  "Oh, but you being married is perfectly acceptable—to my mother, of all people."

  "You and I both know there's no love between us."

  "Why are you still married to her then?"

  He closes his eyes, trying to compose himself. "There are reasons—things I can't go into. Besides, you cannot question my morals when you're the one fucking your mother's husband."

  I suck in a breath. "Ouch."

  "Bitch," he jibes.

  I smirk at him. "Bastard."

  "I love it when you talk dirty."

  "Likewise."

  He shakes his head before pushing his chair out and rising. "Come, let's go get ready for this fiasco. The Christmas bonuses can wait until tomorrow."

  I rise up out of my seat, closing the distance between us. Owen grabs my left butt cheek and squeezes, causing me to yelp in surprise. "I want you completely naked beneath me." His breath quickens as something hard pushes against my crotch.

  "You just had me."

  My breaths come in short pants. We may have just had sex, but it doesn't take long for Owen to command my attention again. If it's not the almost jet black, wavy hair, light green eyes, and strong jaw, it's the way he stands tall at six-foot-six, his body tight and muscular in a way that makes women all over the globe desperate to squeeze any portion of him. Before meeting my mother, Owen was rated the sexiest millionaire bachelor in Forbes magazine. I have no clue what he saw in my mom, but it was obviously enough to throw away that title. Then he met me, and his attention has been elsewhere ever since.

  "Having you every day isn't enough for me. I will always want more."

  My lips twitch against his. "Only because I'm forbidden fruit."

  His warm, minty breath hits my face as he trails his tongue over my top lip. "A forbidden fruit I long to taste again," he says, kissing me. "And again." He kisses me once more, sending a familiar fire between my legs. "And again." He does it to me once more, but I relent, pushing him away. I know exactly where it will head otherwise. I may be a bitch to my mom by sleeping with her husband, but I won't do it knowing she's in the house nearby.

  "Stop before it goes too far," I scorn.

  Owen groans against my lips, squeezing my ass once again. "I wish everyone would just fuck off."

  "Now, now, Mr. Montgomery, that's no way to treat your guests."

  "Speaking of,” he says, pulling me tightly to him, our faces an inch apart, "stay away from that fucker, Savannah. I mean it.”

  I smile sweetly before licking his bottom lip. "Yes, Dad."

  First Time Ever I Saw Your Face

  Roberta Flack

  Seven months earlier.

  "Savannah, no matter how much you clean this shitty place up, it will always be shitty."

  I'm sweeping the floors of our tiny two-bedroom condo in the Upper Westside of Manhattan. We can't afford to live here, but my mother insists on it until we can find a better option—that option being a very rich man to take care of us. For the past two months, we’ve been living off my grandfather's inheritance while I troll through endless postings online trying to find an office job that will at least pay the rent. My mother, however, thinks looking for work is beneath her. She wants to sell her soul. And the worst part is she's intent on getting me to do it too. "If I can't find a rich husband, maybe you can," she said one evening after her third glass of wine. "You look…" she eyed me up and down, "decent enough. You just need to wear the right clothes and makeup."

  "I am not a whore, Mom."

  She hadn't liked that. "And you're saying I am!"

  Yes.

  "No, it's just not something I want to do. I want to earn a living, not go after someone I don't love just so he provides a roof over my head."

  "Love smove, girl. You really think there's such a commodity? Get your fucking head out of the clouds and start living in the real world. Love is overrated. Give me a man's wallet over that stupid, meaningless word any day of the week. Love doesn't pay the bills, Savannah. The sooner you realize this, the better. I'm trying to fix our situation while you sit here day after day looking for jobs. Go out there and find a rich man. They're in abundance in Manhattan. Start earning a living and stop leaving it all up to me."

  That was five weeks ago, and I’ve stood my ground. I’m not about to back down anytime soon either. I will make my own way in life—without a man.

  "Anyway," she places her handbag on the kitchen counter, "I've found a solution to our problem. I met someone three weeks ago and he asked me to marry him!" She holds up her hand, showing me a rock the size of Gibraltar on her finger.

  I frown, confused. "But…how? When?" It's only been three weeks.

  A mischievous glint forms in her eyes. "I have my ways and means. In the end, he couldn't resist me." She nudges my arm. "Come on, Savannah. Look more grateful than you are. We'll never have to worry about money again. And what's more, he's willing to give you a job as his assistant. Isn't that great?"

  I'm too stunned to say anything. How did she find someone so soon who wants to marry her? It doesn't make any sense.

  "Savannah," she barks, clicking her fingers in front of my face, "snap out of it. For fuck's sake, you're always in a dream world. Pay attention for once."

  Inhaling, I try my hardest not to bite back. She can be a serious bitch. "Who is he? What does he do?"

  Her lips curve. "That's better. His name is Owen Montgomery. He’s the CEO of Montgomery Cars. He's a multi-millionaire, and not only that, he's been voted the sexiest millionaire bachelor…but not for long," she states arrogantly, flashing me her ring again. "Stop this sweeping shit and do some research on him. We're going over to his place tonight so you can meet him and find out more about the job. We'll be married in two weeks, and shortly after that, we'll move in. You'll have your own bedroom and bathroom. Aren't you happy?"

  It all does sound lovely, but I still don't understand. They met three weeks ago and now they're getting married—in fourteen days. What decent man does that, especially with this witch of a woman?

  It dawns on me. He must be as horrible and vile as she is.

  Shit!

  I put on my best fake smile. "Yes, Mother. I am happy. And grateful. I appreciate you doing this."

  "Good," she quips, standing from her seat and moving toward her bedroom. "You have an hour to research, then we have to get ready. We have a car picking us up in two hours."

  She waltzes out of the room, leaving me in an air of stagnant silence. Something isn’t right. Her marrying someone at the drop of a hat—especially if there's money involved, is a given. But what does this Owen Montgomery get out of it?

  Thinking on this, I grab my laptop and Google his name. Fuck, he even has a Wikipedia page.

  I click on the link. He's a very successful entrepreneur. Took over his father's company shortly after his dad died in 2000. He's been more successful than his father, managing to expand the business all over the United States. He has a net worth of over eight hundred million—and counting.

  "Shit!" I shout, my eyes widening in response.

  I scroll down to the “personal life” section. He was quite a player as a teenager—until he got his girlfriend pregnant at sixteen. He has a son who is over two years older than my twenty years, but apparently, he lives in California and doesn't visit
much. It seems they may have had a falling out some five years ago. That's if you can believe what this says. He's never married. The mother of his child died of an overdose soon after his son's birth. Apparently, she was given a lot of money and blew it all on drugs. That couldn't have been easy for him. He’s thirty-eight now, which makes him two years younger than my mother. My mom was obviously young when she had me too, but according to her, she doesn't know who my father is, and it's just been her and I for the last twenty years. When my grandparents found out about her pregnancy, they kicked her out, and she hadn’t spoken to them since. I only discovered my grandmother died six months ago, and my grandfather followed nine weeks later. I had never met them, but I read in my grandfather’s obituary that he died of a broken heart. Despite never knowing them, this left me with tears in my eyes.

  To be honest, I was surprised to learn they had left all their inheritance to me and my mother. I have a trust fund of a little over two hundred thousand dollars that I can gain access to next year—once I turn twenty-one. I have been counting the days so I can leave my mother and start being independent. She may be my mother, but we've never gotten along. She goes around thinking the world owes her something.

  And she has the audacity to call me a dreamer.

  I sigh at that last thought. I have to hand it to her. She did say she wanted a rich man to look after her, and now she's found one. I also have to admit to being slightly excited at the prospect of working finally. Being an assistant to a CEO doesn't sound too bad. Only time will tell.