Dreams Of the Night: The Forbidden Draw
Delilah Cole
Dreams of the Night: The Forbidden Draw
Delilah Cole
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Delilah Cole
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Contents
Introduction
side. Sit back and enjoy.
Delilah Cole likes to write naughty, smutty short stories. When she's not writing, she's reading books in the same genre. Delilah is a crazy animal lover, and although she finds it difficult to remember the names of people five seconds after she's met them, Delilah can tell you the name of someone's dog she met thirty years ago.
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Kristy picked up the dusty, leather-bound book titled "Dreams of the Night" from the shelf of her grandmother's old library. The room was silent, save for the ticking of the grandfather clock that had been a part of the family for generations. The book's pages were brittle, smelling faintly of vanilla and aged paper, and they whispered as she leafed through them. The illustrations within were mesmerizing, depicting scenes that seemed to dance before her eyes in a way that modern art never could. Kristy glanced around her; this was no children's book, that was for sure.
Her curiosity piqued, she took the book to her room and read into the night. The words painted vivid images in her mind—sensual figures moving in shadowy landscapes, their eyes gleaming with an intensity that made her heart race. The book spoke of a world where darkness was not feared but craved, and the lines between reality and fantasy grew hazier with each page. Her cheeks flushed with feelings she'd never experienced, a cocktail of excitement and unease.
Days turned into weeks as "Dreams of the Night" pages became her solace. Her brothers, Tim and Alex, noticed the change in her demeanor but brushed it off as pubescent angst. Little did they know that the book had kindled a flame within her that grew with each passing day, threatening to consume her soul. The stories of incestuous love and taboo desires whispered sweet nothings to her, planting seeds of curiosity that grew into an unquenchable thirst for the forbidden. Each morning, Kristy awoke with damp panties and visions of all the taboo things she'd read about the night before.
One evening, as she sat on the couch, lost in the book, Tim walked in, his eyes lingering a moment too long on her bare legs. She felt a shiver run down her spine, and a strange warmth pooled in her lower belly. Their eyes met, and she quickly looked away, feigning innocence. Yet, she knew she had seen a hunger in his gaze mirrored her own. The air grew thick with tension, and she could almost hear the pages of the book sizzling with the electricity that crackled between them. Dare she? Would her brother be into that?
Her thoughts grew darker, her imagination wilder, and she began to fantasize about the brother she had grown up with. She lingered outside his bedroom door at night, her breaths shallow and erratic. The whispers of the book grew louder, urging her to explore the depths of her newfound desires.
One day, as the sun set and the house grew quiet, she decided to confront her urges. Dressed in a sheer nightgown that barely concealed her tight, hard nipples, she tiptoed into Tim's room. The moon's soft glow cast an ethereal light over him as he slept, his bare chest rising and falling with each breath. Her hand trembled as she reached out to touch him, the fabric of the book's story coming to life under her fingertips.
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