50 Shades Of Love Novels & Stories

When she vigorously nodded, he asked, “What do you want me to do?” Since it was important for him to be sure that she really orgasmed, and he wasn’t yet familiar with her sexual tastes, it stood to reason that he asked her what she wanted. He’s learned this from his sex clubs and thought it a good thing to practice. She raised her hips off the mattress and moaned. “I want you to love me.” Since she was in the throes of passion, he assumed the term ‘love’ meant ‘screw’. At least, to him, it did. After all, he’d already told her that he loved Theresa and planned on marrying her in a few short weeks.

I wrapped my fingers into her hair, tugging her head back as I shifted my angle, pounding relentlessly against her sweet spot. “You like this, don’t you?” “Ye… es… I love it! I fucking love it!” I let out a low, guttural grunt, plunging into her with everything I had. The heavy wooden desk shook and rattled with every violent thrust. “Fuck! Fuck!” My vision went blurry, my muscles locking up as I took her over and over again, driving us both over the edge into total darkness.

Love and family. THE END

***Warning: The following stories are 18+ and contain content that may offend, disturb, and trigger some readers. These include physical, mental, and emotional abuse, as well as physical and sexual violence, and drug references. Read at your own risk... Isadora was a second-year student, and Miles was her professor. His love for her was forbidden and bordered on obsession. She felt trapped with no one to turn to. Until the substitute Professor Rhett enters... CHAPTER ONE - THE BEGINNING

Olivia I reached between us and fumbled with his zipper. He lifted his hips, helped me free him. His dick was hot, heavy and already leaking. No condom or discussion. I didn’t care. I shoved my panties to the side the wet fabric sticking to my folds and sank down. We both moaned loudly and shameless. He filled me in one long, slow slide, stretching me open and hitting every nerve. I froze when my ass met his thighs, I was full of him, aching, it’s perfect.

KIERAN The screen doesn't go dark. It continues in a loop,I see Dax and Finn running towards the control rooms to shut it down. The grainy footage, the rooftop, two figures standing too close together, then the moment repeats, my hand grabbing his collar. My mouth crashed into his, a confession from me, the ballroom noise increased, and the whispers spread like fire. “The president allowed that?” “Did Nightshade really seduce him?” “A disgrace…” Someone near the back laughs quietly. “Well, Nightshade is fine, I'd tap that too if I could.”

Oh are you done with your bullshit? "Look, ‎I don't care how much you love each other or how long you've known each other, the moment you proposed to me you signed up to be mine and mine alone for the rest of your life." I say standing up and wiping my hands on a wipe. "Figure out what to do with your little mistress before I wake up tomorrow morning or I'll make both your lives a living hell" i finish and drop the wipe at his feet before walking away.

A blood-curdling scream tore through the air as I plummeted from the skyscraper, blacking out before I hit the ground. "Lily." The camera lingered mercilessly on my mangled form. The voice was unhinged with madness. "You're finally going to die. Don't blame me. Blame yourself for being so vile. "You knew damn well I loved Shane, and you still went ahead and married him! "In this world, only I am meant to love him! Everyone who'd try to take him from me should die!" The screen quaked, the view flipped, and there was Joanna's twisted face, filling the big screen. The footage cut off abruptly.

Silver and Delilah were curled naked on the wide leather couch, their warm bodies tangled in a lazy, post-orgasm haze, basking in the dim glow of the living room. A half-empty bottle of rich red wine sat on the table beside two glasses. and the low, sultry voice of Annie Lennox filled the air — “I put a spell on you… because you’re mine…” — as a slow, filthy strip tease played on the massive TV screen. The scene unfolding on screen was far dirtier than anything in Fifty Shades of Grey: a woman teasingly peeling off lace while two men stroked themselves, eyes locked on her with raw hunger.

Ten-year-old Rhett Grimfang glared at me. I was just about to turn and leave when the hem of my gown became stuck at the corner of the table, tearing it open with a loud rip. "You scheming she-wolf! That was the dress my mother loved most!" Rhett's eyes were red as he stared at me with hatred. "Rhett… you're lying. Sylvia loved gowns inlaid with moonstone crystals. How could she possibly have cherished this plain, old white dress?"