Erotic Tales: Love, Lust and Romance のすべてのチャプター: チャプター 61 - チャプター 70

Kellan will be here soon. It’s time. When he demanded my secret from me last night, I thought first of lying,but he held my orgasm ransom until I told him what he wanted to know.“What’s the one fantasy you’ve never told anyone?” he asked.I was on my back, spread wide before him, open to his gaze. His arm stretched out across my leg, hand grip- ping me right at the juncture of hip and thigh, while his elbow pinned me to the bed. I would’ve said it made me feel uncomfortable, but it didn’t.Kellan’s other hand played between my legs, his thumb rubbing my clit, his middle finger teasing the entrance to my sex, but it was his mouth, his voice, his words that devastated me and set my senses reeling.“I want you to tell me the one thing you’re too afraid to tell anyone, even me. I want all your secrets, Angie”— I tried to thrust my hips up at him, but he pulled his fingers away—“and I won’t let you come until I have them.”He’d been teasing me for what felt like hours, bringing me t

’d been thinking about Jesse all day. Whenever I could steal a moment of peace at work, my mind would wander, and I’d dream about his hands massaging my feet and his tongue teasing my toes. My commute home passed by in a flash as I spent the time imagining the look that would be on his face when he finally got to hold my pretty peds in his hands. The adoration that lights up his eyes when he gazes at my bare feet stokesmy lust like nothing else.You see, feet are Jesse’s fetish, but mine is being in control of Jesse. These two desires complement each other perfectly. I choose when and where he’s allowed the honor of worshipping my feet, and in the end we both wind up satisfied.Jesse had been such a good boy all week—takingcare of the house and me—so I wanted to give him a reward. The second I walked in the door that night, I told him that he’d earned a special treat. Upon hearing my words, he slid his lustful gaze slowly down my figure to rest at my feet, as I knew he would. My

Cara? You’re my five o’clock?”The deep voice made my guts clench. That was thevoice my ex-boyfriend Ben had fallen in love with. The voice he had left me for five months ago. I turned and faced the hairstylist waiting for me.Shaggy brown hair, dark eyes, a ring in his lip. Yep, Hunter was as cute as everyone had said. I felt a stab of jealousy and attraction at the same time.“That’s me,” I lied. Pretending to be just a girl looking for a haircut. Pretending I wasn’t really scoping out the guy who’d lured my boyfriend away from me. I forced a smile, aware of how crazy this whole idea was. But I’d been unable to stop thinking about Ben, and I had to finally see for myself this new lover of his.Hunter said, “The chair’s over here.”I couldn’t take my eyes off him in the mirror as we discussed the kind of cut I wanted. His fingers moved through my long red hair with sensual confidence. He smelled fantastic and his easy, sexy smile spelled out what Ben had found so irresistible.

Seventy-six Windy Gate was a small triangular house that resembled a pointed hat, or that appeared as if perhaps there was a larger house under the ground that was beginning to sprout. A hedge of wild roses shielded the neat lawn from the road. At the end of the gravel driveway was a sign, painted purple and green on black, that read THIstLE StuDIo & TEARooM and beckonedpassersby to stop in for a visit.Not today, though. A sandwich board on the oppo- site side of the driveway read CLOSED ON SUNDAY. No fresh scones or tea with sugar cubes for aging vaca- tioners. No delightful view of the garden with butter- flies for the little ones to chase. Tourists following road signage to the award-winning establishment could hammer on the front door all they liked, but GracieHammond wouldn’t be greeting them with a smile.Sunday morning was for church, and Sunday after- noon was for getting a week’s worth of sin in the few short hours she had off.On that particular Sunday she was still i

e were in Valentino’s Bar, first date, third martini.It was going well so I told him how, as a kid, I used to fantasize about getting tied up by cowboys outside a saloon bar.In return, he told me when he was a kid, maybe slightly older, he used to think bondage involved two people tying themselves together. He’d thought it was like marriage but naughtier and more fun. If you did bondage with someone, it meant you loved them.“Kids,” I said. “So sweet.” “Yeah,” he said. “Not really.”A new year was starting, and we didn’t want to fall in love. When the snowdrops were pushing through, we brought a little light bondage into the bedroom, still shy like the flowers. His marriage had recently ended.He hadn’t come into his own yet. He kept twirling the emptiness on his finger where his wedding ring used to be. I was worried I might be his rebound.By the time the crocuses arrived, splashing yellow and purple across hard, blank ground, we’d moved on to more dangerous territory. He wou