Forbidden Desires: The Neighbour Next Door

Bound by Desire

The nights following that first, heated encounter became a blur of passion and determination. Ethan's desire to claim what he believed was his became an all-consuming obsession, and each evening was marked by the same ritual: him pressing Isabelle into the bed, his hands gripping her tightly as he made her his again and again. Every night, without fail, he seeded her womb, his need to fill her with his child driving every touch, every thrust.

Ethan's mind raced with one singular thought as he moved against Isabelle, his body pressed firmly into hers. The idea of finally having a child—his child—was consuming him. It wasn't just the physical sensation that drove him forward. He had waited so long and endured so many empty hopes and dreams with Sarah, but now, the possibility was right in front of him.

Isabelle's body beneath him, her soft whimpers, her head tilted back in pleasure—she was the answer to everything he had been craving."Carry our child," he whispered into her ear, his voice rough with urgency. "Carry my baby."

Isabelle moaned in response, her body arching into him as his words wrapped around her. She wasn't sure how they had come to this moment, but the rawness of his desire, the way he made her feel wanted, filled her with a dizzying sense of power. She was the key to his deepest need, and she could feel how desperately he wanted her. Isabelle was no longer the woman who had walked into his life out of curiosity and a need for excitement. She had become something else, something vital to him.

"Ethan," she gasped, her nails digging into his back as he thrust deeper, each movement filled with intent. Each night, she submitted to him willingly, her body arching into his as he took what he wanted. But it wasn't just submission—it was desire, raw and mutual. She found herself craving his touch, the intensity of his need igniting something deep within her.

Every part of him was fuelled by that thought—the possibility of life growing inside her, their life. He gripped her tighter, driving himself further into her, each thrust claiming her as his own."You belong to me now," he murmured, his lips brushing her neck. "Every part of you."

"You'll carry my baby," he whispered into her ear. "I won't stop until I know it's done."

Isabelle's breath hitched, her hands tangling in his hair as she pulled him closer. She could feel the possessiveness in his words, in his touch, and something about it thrilled her. She had never been wanted like this, never had a man so desperate for something only she could give. The idea that she might be carrying his child, that she might be the one to give him what his wife never could—it made her feel powerful in a way she had never experienced.

"Yes," she whispered breathlessly. "I'm yours. I'll be carrying our child by then"

Ethan's eyes darkened with satisfaction as he heard her words. He drove into her harder, each thrust filled with an intensity that bordered on desperation. It wasn't just about the pleasure anymore—it was about claiming what he believed was his by right. He had worked hard and built his empire, and now, all he needed was an heir. Isabelle would give him that. She had to.

"Carry my child," he repeated, his voice rough with determination. "Carry my baby."

Isabelle's body trembled beneath him, her moans growing louder as she gave herself over to him completely. She had never felt anything like this before, the weight of his need pressing down on her, the sheer force of his desire. It was as though she could feel his will inside her, willing her body to conceive, to give him the child he so desperately wanted.

"Ethan," she gasped, her fingers gripping his shoulders as she held on to him.

"I want it. I want to carry your baby." His eyes blazed at her words, and he thrust into her with renewed force. It was all he needed to hear. The thought of his seed taking root inside her, of her belly swelling with his child—it consumed him as well as her. She clung to him, her breath catching as he thrust deeper, his hands gripping her tightly.

"I will," she gasped, her voice trembling. "I'll carry your baby, Ethan."

Each night they found themselves locked in that same primal dance, his body claiming hers with a desperation that never seemed to wane. He would have what he wanted, what he had been denied for so long. Isabelle would give it to him."Good girl," he growled, his lips brushing hers as he moved faster, deeper.

"You're going to give me everything."

Isabelle cried out in response, her body shaking with the intensity of it all. 

By the time Sarah returned, everything would be set in motion, and Isabelle—beautiful, willing Isabelle—would be pregnant with his heir. The very thought thrilled him in ways he hadn't anticipated.

As each night blurred into the next, Isabelle found herself lying in bed after their encounters, her body aching but satisfied, her mind swirling with thoughts of what their actions meant. She would wake in the night sometimes, her hand resting on her abdomen, wondering if this would be the time. Would she feel the first signs soon? The idea of carrying Ethan's child had started to take root in her heart, too.

She could feel his desperation, his determination, and it filled her with a sense of purpose. She was the one who could give him what he wanted, the one who could make him whole. And in that moment, nothing else mattered. The room was filled with the sounds of their bodies moving together, the bed creaking beneath them as they lost themselves in each other.

"You'll be mine forever once you're pregnant. It's the one thing Sarah could never give me." Isabelle turned her head to look at him, her eyes searching his face.

"And what if I don't conceive?" Ethan's expression darkened slightly, but he quickly brushed the thought away. "You will. I know you will. I feel it. Every night, I make sure of it." He shifted above her, his body once again moving with intent as he leaned down to kiss her neck. His hands roamed her body, and Isabelle's breath hitched as the familiar warmth began to spread through her. 

Ethan's hands gripped her hips tightly, holding her in place as he thrust into her with all his strength. "Carry my child," he whispered once again, his breath hot against her skin. "Carry my baby." 

Isabelle moaned, her body arching against his, her mind lost in the sensations overwhelming her. She could feel him everywhere, his need, his want, and it ignited something deep within her. The thought of carrying his child, of being the one to finally give him what he desired—it made her feel alive, powerful in a way she had never imagined.

"I will," she promised, her voice trembling with the weight of her own emotions. "I'll carry your baby, Ethan. I'll give you everything." With a final, powerful thrust, Ethan groaned deeply, his body shuddering against hers as he reached his release.

Each night he made her feel like this—wanted, needed, cherished, even if only for what she could give him.

"Ethan..." she whispered, her hands finding their place on his back as he moved against her. "I want it too." He smiled against her skin, his lips trailing down to her collarbone as his hips moved in slow, deliberate thrusts. "Good," he murmured. "Because you're going to have it. You'll be carrying my baby, Isabelle. I'm not stopping until you are."

Ethan leaned down, brushing his lips gently against Isabelle's forehead. "You will be mine," he whispered. "You're going to give me everything."

Isabelle smiled weakly, her hand reaching up to stroke his cheek. "I already have."

Night after night, the same words were whispered between them, the same ritual repeated. Ethan's possessive need was palpable, driving him forward with each thrust, each kiss, each moan. Isabelle was becoming more than just a surrogate for his desire—she was becoming his obsession, his hope for the future. He owned her body every night, claimed every gasp, every moan until it became a part of their shared existence.

"Carry my baby," he whispered, his voice rough as he filled her once again. "Let me see you swell with my child."

Isabelle moaned, her body arching beneath his as the intensity of his words sent a shiver through her. She wanted it now, too. The idea of carrying his child, of being the one to give him what Sarah never could, had consumed her just as much as it had him. And every night, as they lay in each other's arms, filled her with a strange, intoxicating sense of victory. She was the one who would give Ethan what he wanted. She was the one who would carry his child. And with every night that passed, she could feel it coming closer.

"You're mine now, Isabelle," he growled one night, as he moved against her with a force that left her breathless. "And soon, you'll be carrying our child." Isabelle moaned, her body trembling beneath his as she gave herself over to him once again.

The intensity of their encounters left Isabelle exhausted but exhilarated. She could feel the shift in herself, the way her body responded to him, the way his need had become her own. Ethan's determination only grew stronger. He was relentless in his pursuit of his goal, his hands on her hips, his voice in her ear, pushing her, pushing them both towards that inevitable outcome. And with that, they lay together in the quiet, their bodies entwined, the future sealed in the unspoken promise of what they had just created.