African American Romance Novels & Stories

said Amar who was already foggy with passion. "I'm still cooking, honey," said Axelina to her husband. "It's all right here, honey. So that we ever make love in the kitchen,” said Amar to Axelina. Axelina turned around. And looked at the husband who was overcome by desire. "Do what you want to do, honey," said Axelina to her husband. Amar, who had been given permission by his wife, immediately lifted Axelina's body on the pantry table. For this time he deliberately did not take off his wife's lingerie. Because he wants his wife to still look sensual. The sigh of his wife succeeded in making Amar even more excited. After being satisfied to pamper his wife with his tongue, Amar immediately put

Black started to open his mouth, but Bianca did not let him speak. "So at this point, I concluded two things: either love at first sight still exists, and blessed lord, I am fortunate that a specimen of your kind could be interested in me; or, you are Alpha Black who seems to harbor some sort of totally unhealthy and disturbing obsession with my person!" Bianca winked at him and continued, "But here's the thing, I'm from the land of l'Amour, and I have to say that you fit so well with my masculine ideal... no, it's not that. You go beyond anything I could have imagined possible in a man. Finally, I preferred to believe that you had fallen in love with me at first sight... " she said while ra

It was as if, unlike any other room, this one was special. Arabella approached the man and sat across his legs, putting one of her arms around his shoulders. "Gustave Flaubert" he replied. "French romance" the incredulity in the woman's tone was clear. She could not believe someone like Damon was interested in romance. "All French works have a romantic content," he explained, shrugging. Arabella smiled, and then Damon was sure that smile could light up the whole city. The closeness between them was frightening for both of them, and they were afraid of what they would feel when they had to pull away.

The romance becomes a beautiful fire. His cockhead nudges my entrance. The pressure builds. My pussy pulses with readiness. Wet heat invites him inside. He pauses. His forehead rests against mine. Our breathing mingles together. Love and lust intertwine in this one perfect moment. The slide in feels imminent. The romance blazes bright. It promises so much more.

A M A R A Flashback TRIGGER WARNING - CONTAINS GRAPHIC MENTIONS OF DOMESTIC ABUSE "Angelo what are you doing?" He backed me into the wall. I started having a panic attack. "It's me, Amara." My breathing was ragged. "Put the gun down," I pleaded. "Why would I do that? Your family embarrassed mine. Winning every fight. You're all cheaters," he accused. "B-but we don't. I'm your girlfriend Angelo think this through. You train with us."

If you're wondering how it all led to this moment, where Roman is staring at the twins with wide eyes and confusion, it’s time to revisit the past. The story that began not with love, but with a fateful marriage of convenience, where neither Roman nor I could have foreseen what would come next. SEVEN YEARS AGO "Do you, Ruby Blackwood, take Alpha Roman Wilder D’Angelo as your loving husband...?" The priest's voice echoed in my ears.

The entire town had come despite the scandal. Some out of curiosity. Others out of genuine affection. Because Craneford had slowly grown protective of them both. The lonely widow. The outcast lord. In a two-person society, people discarded finding love in the quiet corners of the world. When Arabella finally reached the altar, Edwin immediately took her trembling hands into his. Warm. Steady. Safe. “You are breathtaking, Rose,” he whispered. Her cheeks warmed instantly. “And you are staring again, Ahkeemi.” A faint smile touched his mouth.

My cock is rock solid and I want to fuck this young woman so badly but I hold these lustful thoughts in check as I kiss my way down her body and bury my face in her thick, carpet of pubic hair. I love her nipples but this other fine attribute of her African-American ancestry is like a fucking aphrodisiac. I've never been with a black woman before and although Jenna is half Asian, her sponge-like pubic hair surrounding her thick, black labia is my erotic fantasy of a sexy black pussy. I hesitate before taking a taste of her delectable juice so I can savor the exotic view. Jenna is getting anxious and spreads her thighs wider, arching her back into a not very subtle invitation.

More… specific. I read romance novels and decided the first step to getting his attention was to make him see me as something other than Jane’s little friend. I started wearing shorter skirts when I knew I’d see him. Tighter tops. I’d pull my hair up to expose my neck, mimicking gestures I’d seen in movies. But he never gave me a second glance. Not until I went for the nuclear option. Last night, I sent him photos. Not just any photos. Explicit ones. Carefully angled, lit by the dim lamp in my dorm room, leaving nothing to the imagination. I sent them to his private email, the one I’d memorized from seeing it on paperwork years ago.

Ismail does not say anything but smiles and sings the last verse of the song, So black, so beautiful I love you, I love you, I love you, munyemo, I love you, I love you; I love you, munyemo, I love you, I love you, Ooohh yeah, my African Queen, I love you, I love you “I love you too,” I say while Ismail smiles and pulls me into a passionate kiss. I kiss him back with a big smile on my face. Today is the happiest day of my life. I will forever remember today.