Chapter 17 : 🌶️ A Forbidden Dream
(Narrator : Jessica)
The room is quiet—too quiet. Lying on my bed, I stare at the ceiling without really seeing it. Silence has never been a comfort for me; it only amplifies everything I’m trying to forget. I roll onto my side, pulling the sheets tightly around me, but they do nothing to fill the emptiness. That damned emptiness.
Everyone thinks I’m in the perfect relationship with Josh. But if only they knew.
How long have I felt like this? This nagging sense that something’s missing—something vital. I’m surrounded by people, and yet… I feel so alone. So fucking alone. My friends are here, my family is here, and still, there’s this chasm, this distance I can’t seem to bridge.
I clench my teeth, my thoughts attacking me relentlessly. With everything that’s been happening, I have no one left to talk to. There’s Josh… but it’s not the same. He’s my brother—I can’t tell him about everything that’s eating me alive.
I roll over again, twisting the sheets beneath me. My chest tightens at the thought that I can’t even remember the last time I felt that warmth—that spark of electricity you get when someone touches you, when someone looks at you like you’re the only thing that matters.
But it’s not just that. It’s not just the lack of attention or presence. It’s something deeper, more primal, gnawing at me from the inside. This need to feel a firm hand on my skin, to feel that heat spreading through my body, that weight pressing against me until I lose control. I crave that rush of adrenaline, that moment when I can completely let go, lose myself entirely. It’s raw, it’s visceral. And it’s consuming me.
I close my eyes, but the images are relentless, even sharper now. Breath-stealing kisses. Hands sliding over my hips, pulling me closer. Soft moans muffled against a neck. Gasps spilling out, unrestrained. I want that. I want to feel a man on me, inside me, making me forget everything—time, space, everything. This need, I’ve been choking it down for so long, but tonight it’s roaring, wild and uncontrollable.
And I can’t lie to myself anymore. I want it. I need it. Desperately.
I pull the sheets tighter around me, as if they could shield me from these thoughts, but they slip into every corner of my mind. The frustration rises—hot, oppressive. I hate it. This emptiness, this ache. This hunger I have no idea how to satisfy. But despite it all, I do nothing. I just lie there, frozen, trapped in a loneliness that feels insurmountable.
The hours crawl by, and I feel drained—not from sleep, but from this endless battle with myself. Eventually, I close my eyes, my thoughts still haunted by this gnawing need, this relentless solitude that refuses to fade. Slowly, I drift into a restless sleep, hoping a dream will rescue me from this unbearable reality.
The first images of my dream emerge, hazy and undefined, like a sensual mist wrapping around my thoughts. Then, everything sharpens, becoming vivid, tangible. I’m in a bed, the air thick and stifling, saturated with raw desire. Strong arms seize me, and the roughness of their grip awakens a hunger in me I didn’t know could feel this insatiable.
My breath quickens, my senses spiral out of control. His hand slides down my back, lingers on my hips, then moves lower, exploring with a boldness that ignites a searing heat between my thighs. A moan escapes me, raw and unrestrained.
Finally… this is it. This is what I want. To be taken, to be consumed.
His breath grazes my neck, warm and irresistibly intimate. His lips press against my skin, exploring with an excruciating slowness, tracing a burning path to my mouth. And then, he kisses me. Not gently. It’s an assault—wild, commanding, a kiss that demands everything. My legs tremble, and I press myself against him, silently begging him to continue. His hands slide under my shirt, his fingers brushing the curve of my breasts. I’m lost, and I want more.
I cling to him, my hands impatiently exploring his chest, discovering it hard and burning under my touch. But it’s not enough. My fingers slide lower, finding the buckle of his belt, which I undo with an almost feral urgency. When I finally touch his skin, when my hand wraps around that rigid, ready length, a wave of pleasure crashes over me, so intense that my head tilts back, my breath catching.
Take me. Now. Make me yours.
He growls, a low, guttural sound thick with desire, and I feel my own need ignite even further. He lifts me, his powerful body aligning perfectly with mine. I offer myself to him, every part of me screaming with raw need. I gasp, almost delirious.
- Jessica (in the dream): “Please… I can’t wait anymore.”
And then he’s inside me, thrusting with a force that steals the air from my lungs. I cry out—a cry of pure, unfiltered pleasure, raw and shattering. Each movement, every thrust deep inside me, sends me spiraling between unbearable ecstasy and total surrender. I lose myself in this bliss, in this connection that feels unreal, perfect.
But as the pleasure rises inside me, burning and uncontrollable, my eyes meet his. A spark jolts through my mind, like an electric shock. It’s Josh. My brother. His features hit me like a bolt of lightning. His eyes pierce through me—dark, ravenous—and a devastating, almost predatory smile spreads across his lips.
- Josh (in the dream): “Now that we’re together, Jess, there are no limits between us.”
His voice, rough and visceral, reverberates deep inside me, stirring something primal. My entire body trembles beneath him, but not from fear. A wave of shame crashes through me, only to be obliterated by an even stronger surge of raw, unfiltered desire. My hips move in sync with his, desperate, reckless, seeking to take in everything he’s giving me.
His hands grip my ass with a force that leaves no room for escape, spreading me open further. His mouth trails down to my neck, his teeth grazing the tender skin there, pulling a moan from my lips that I can’t control. The contrast between the roughness of his touch and the unsettling softness in his gaze is an exquisite torment. Every thrust drives sharp bursts of pleasure through me, so overwhelming I lose all sense of restraint, surrendering completely.
This is forbidden. It’s immoral. But it feels so good. So painfully perfect.
He moves faster, his hot breath brushing against my ear as a guttural growl escapes him.
- Josh (in the dream): “You’re mine now, Jessica. Only mine.”
His words cut through the air like a raw, irrevocable promise. I stare at him, wide-eyed, unable to speak. My silence only seems to spur him on, driving him to take even more.
- Jessica (in the dream): “Josh… no… stop… This is…”
My voice wavers, falters, but the words die on my lips. His hands tighten their grip, his movements becoming harder, more demanding, more possessive.
- Josh (in the dream): “Admit it. You love it—being fucked by your big brother. Being my little slut, mine and mine alone.”
A violent shiver courses through me, equal parts shame and raw desire, as his filthy words ignite an unbearable heat deep within my body.
- Jessica (in the dream): “No, stop… this isn’t… I… I…”
But deep down, I don’t want him to stop. My body betrays my mind, arching instinctively to meet his relentless thrusts. I feel his hand slide into my hair, gripping it firmly, holding me still beneath him.
- Josh (in the dream): “Keep moaning like that, Jess… like the little bitch you know you are.”
His burning breath brushes against my ear, and an uncontrollable moan escapes my lips. My mind struggles to fight, to resist, but my body gives in, surrendering completely to him.
His words detonate inside me like a bomb. My mind screams to escape, to reject the horror of it all, but my body betrays me again, overwhelmed by a wave of unrelenting ecstasy. It crashes over me, tearing through every last barrier I had left. I scream his name—a final, desperate plea—just as the pleasure rips me away from reality. My muscles tighten, my back arches, and every inch of me gives itself over to this impossible release.
I wake up with a jolt, gasping for air, my heart pounding violently in my chest. My body is hot, damp, and the sheets cling to my skin. I glance around the room, trying to make sense of what just happened. My hands are trembling as they drift down between my thighs. There’s no doubt. I came in my sleep.
But not with just anyone. It was Josh.
No, no, no… This can’t be real. Not this. Not him.
Shame floods me, burning and unbearable. I push myself up suddenly, but my legs feel weak, unsteady. How could I dream that? Why him? Why now?
I glance at the clock on my nightstand. It’s already past eight. The sun is beginning to break through the curtains, and I know I won’t be able to fall back asleep. Not after that. Not with this suffocating weight pressing against my chest, this guilt tearing me apart.
I sit on my bed, my legs pulled tightly to my chest, unable to move. My heart is still racing, and the heat spreading through my body refuses to fade. The dream keeps replaying in my mind—every detail, every sensation, every word. Josh. It was Josh.
A wave of panic crashes over me. I try to breathe, to regain some semblance of control, but it’s impossible. My body still remembers too vividly what just happened. I clutch the sheets tightly around me, trying to smother the feeling, but it won’t go away. It lingers, relentless, refusing to let me forget.
How could I dream about that? How could I… come thinking about him? It’s… It’s monstrous. It’s… forbidden.
My face burns, a deep, visceral shame taking hold of me. I feel filthy, like my entire body is marked by that dream. My breathing quickens, spiraling out of control. I run my hands over my face, as if I can scrub the thoughts away, but they cling to me, invasive and relentless.
I get up suddenly, almost stumbling. I have to do something—anything—to shake off this feeling before it consumes me. I head to the bathroom, splashing cold water onto my face, but the icy shock does nothing to quiet the storm raging inside me.
I catch my reflection in the mirror, and the sight of my flushed, disoriented face sends another wave of guilt crashing down on me. Why him? Why now? Is it because…? I shake my head violently, refusing to go any further with that thought.
No. It’s the stress. The tension, the lies, everything—it’s messing with my head. This isn’t real. It’s just… a dream. Nothing more.
But no matter how hard I try to rationalize it, a part of me knows it’s not that simple. That dream didn’t come out of nowhere.
I take a deep breath, forcing myself to calm down. I need to get out of this panic, to focus on something else. I jump into the shower, letting the hot water cascade over my skin, but even then, I can’t shake the strange sense of guilt, as if the water can’t wash away what happened in my mind.
Once dressed, I step out of my room, carefully avoiding my reflection in the hallway mirror. I move quickly through the living room, silently praying that Josh isn’t up yet. But, of course, he’s there—as usual—mid-workout.
He’s shirtless, a thin sheen of sweat glistening on his skin, his muscles flexing with every movement.
I freeze in place, my breath catching in my throat. The images from my dream come flooding back with brutal intensity. The touches, the kisses, that moment when he… I rip my gaze away, my heart racing all over again.
It’s nothing. Just a coincidence. He doesn’t know. He can’t know.
Josh glances up at me, wiping his forehead with an effortless, casual motion.
- Josh (with a smile): “Sleep well? You look tired.”
His voice startles me, and I stammer out some incoherent response before practically fleeing to the kitchen. Out of his sight, I lean against the counter, trying to steady my breathing. But it’s no use. Everything about him reminds me of that dream, and my discomfort twists into a suffocating panic.
I sit at the table, staring at my bowl of cereal without touching it. My phone buzzes beside me, but I don’t have the strength to check it. I already know it’s going to be more messages from our friends, probably filled with suggestive, inappropriate jokes. Just thinking about it makes my head spin. This is all going too far. Way too far.
Eventually, I grab my phone, hoping for a distraction. But the messages that pop up only make everything worse.
- Lily (text): “So, Jess, sleeping well these days? 😉”
- Harper (text): “We need details, girl. No secrets between us!”
I drop the phone as if it’s burned me, my breathing shallow and unsteady. My face feels like it’s on fire, and tears sting the corners of my eyes.
I spend the rest of the morning avoiding Josh as much as possible. Every time I hear him move around the apartment, my body tenses, and an uncomfortable heat rises to my cheeks. I throw myself into meaningless tasks—tidying things that are already in order, answering emails that don’t matter—anything to keep myself occupied. But no matter what I do, that dream won’t let me go.
I’m still lost in thought when Josh walks into the kitchen. I hear him before I see him: his heavy footsteps, his breathing still quick from his workout. I clutch my coffee mug tightly in my hands, silently willing him to walk past without saying a word. But of course, that’s too much to ask.
- Josh: “Hey, Jess, are you okay? You’re acting weird this morning.”
His voice cuts through the air, and I flinch slightly. I turn to face him slowly, trying to hide my embarrassment behind a forced smile.
- Jessica (faking calm): “Yeah, yeah. Just… a rough night.”
Josh raises an eyebrow but doesn’t push further. Thank God. I focus on my mug, hoping he’ll take the hint and drop the conversation. But instead of leaving, he leans against the counter, hesitating. His crossed arms make his muscles stand out, and I quickly look away, my throat tightening. Why does he have to be shirtless every time I see him?
- Josh: “By the way, I had a question. Would it bother you if… I brought someone over Friday night?”
His words hang in the air, and it takes a few seconds for their meaning to hit me. I glance up at him, my expression incredulous.
- Jessica: “Someone?”
- Josh (hesitant): “Yeah, a coworker. We’ve been talking a bit, and… well, I thought I’d invite her over for dinner. Nothing serious. But if you’re not comfortable with it…”
I freeze, my mind spinning. A coworker. A woman. Here. With him. My stomach knots, and an uncomfortable heat rises in my chest. I know his request is perfectly reasonable. We even set rules for this kind of thing. But right now, every part of me is screaming that I don’t want this. I don’t want someone else coming into our space. Our space.
- Jessica (trying to hide her unease): “No, that’s fine. It’s… normal. You can do whatever you want.”
My words sound hollow, even to my own ears. Josh looks at me, like he’s trying to read my face, but I quickly avert my gaze. He nods, visibly relieved.
- Josh: “Thanks.”
Josh leaves the kitchen shortly after, leaving me alone with my thoughts. I stay seated, my hands clenched around my mug, unable to move. Why does this bother me so much? The thought of him spending time alone with another woman in this apartment makes me want to scream. I have no right to feel this way. This isn’t normal.
But the more I try to convince myself of that, the bigger the knot in my stomach grows. The images from my dream come rushing back, colliding with the thought of this woman sitting at this table, laughing with him, looking at him with interest. I shake my head violently, trying to banish the thoughts. It’s not my business. I have no right to interfere in his life.
The rest of the morning passes in a haze. I try to bury myself in work, but my focus is shattered. The messages from our friends keep coming, filled with innuendos and crude jokes, but I can’t even bring myself to read them. Every time I glance up and catch sight of Josh in the apartment, my chest tightens a little more.
As I prepare to step out for some air, a chilling thought strikes me: What if this is just the beginning? What if things only get worse?
I stop in front of the door, my hand on the handle, unable to move. My throat tightens, and a lump of anxiety rises, heavy and suffocating. How did we get here? How am I supposed to deal with this?