Best Book Of Short Stories の小説・ストーリー

He returned his attention to the bookshelf at the rear of his office, the one he’d been browsing when he’d first heard the strange sounds outside, only being made by the cats, after all. The top shelf held purely “literary works.” Poetry collections of Blake, Yeats, Robert Frost, and Shakespeare. Prose collections of Zora Neal Hurston, Hemingway, Nathaniel Hawthorne, Flannery O’Connor, and folktales collected by the Brothers Grimm. Novels, from The Man in the Iron Mask to Madame Bovary, to Villette and Jane Eyre by Charlotte Bronte, to A Passage to India by E. M. Forster.

I dropped the book in my hands, my other hand, finding its way to the crotch of my bum shorts. I grazed my fingers over the areas and the feeling had my eyes fluttering in pleasure. I grazed myself for a few more seconds, loving the trail of heat surrounding my folds. “Ahh…Ace, don't stop,” I moaned, my voice sounding a little clearer than the last as I pinched my nipple. I slipped my fingers into my shorts from the crotch area, biting hard on my lips to prevent my moan from sounding too loud. The moment my fingers touched me down there, a shuddery breath escaped my lips.

My panties were stuck to my pussy lips, the fabric dark and wet, and I could feel my juices dripping past them now, running down my legs in slow warm trails. My heart was slamming so hard I could hear it in my ears and those footsteps outside in the hallway kept coming and going, but instead of scaring me it just made me wetter. God, if someone heard me like this I would die, but right now I didn’t care. I just needed him to touch me. He didn’t waste time. I heard him pick up that thick hardcover book from the desk and then the flat hard edge of it smacked right across my ass cheek with a loud crack that echoed through the office.

My fingers shivered as I submitted my creative writing piece to her. I prayed this time she wouldn't criticize my work again and force me into one of those dreaded makeup tests that I always had to take alone, which I hate so much. The manuscript felt weighted with my hidden thoughts, yet I'd managed to capture them on paper. I had poured my most secret longings into this narrative easily after watching my roommate shower, their skin glistening with water. That's when the concept for my story began to form for me.

Blurb Niall and Lara are invited to a secret party at Blackwell Mansion. Inside, they discover a world of lust and temptation. Niall is taken by two wild women, while Lara falls into the arms of the powerful Richard Blackwell. By the end of the night, the couple is pulled into a dangerous threesome that tests their marriage, their limits, and their deepest desires Swinger’s Party!(1) Lara had been folding laundry when the envelope slipped under the apartment door. Heavy cream paper, sealed with a deep crimson wax. Her first thought was that it looked like something out of a movie too luxurious for bills or advertisements.

“I was poisoned by a man I once called friend. He wanted my lands and title. I died slowly in the room just below us, calling out for a wife who was no longer there. The pain was terrible, but the loneliness afterward was worse. I remained trapped here for over a century.” His hand slid lower between my thighs. Cool fingers found me wet and stroked me gently. I moaned softly and pressed back against him. “I am sorry,” I whispered. “You must have been so lonely.” “I was.” his fingers circled my most sensitive spot with perfect pressure. “Until you came to this house. So quiet and gentle, yet full of hidden fire. You have awakened me, Helen.”

When I steadied my ragged breathing, I stood up, tugged my dress down, and fetched something to wipe the mess that had spilled on the floor. Afterward I headed to my room, showered, and slipped into a short skirt plus a tank top that revealed my cleavage. One thing about Christian was that he adored me dressing this way, and I loved it too. I would continue wearing it to seduce and grant his sons effortless entry to my cunt. I curled up on the bed and attempted to pass the time by reading a smut novel, into which I became immersed. Even though I had received enough cock, reading this stirred my inner whore.

The old castle stood high on the rocky hill where the forest met the mountains. Its stone walls were cracked and covered with thick vines. No one had lived there for hundreds of years. People in the nearby village whispered that the place held something dangerous. Something that burned hotter than any flame. Elias had heard all the stories but he still came anyway. At twenty six years old he felt stuck in his small quiet life. He worked in the village bakery during the day and spent his nights reading old books about forgotten magic. One book spoke of a fire demon who once ruled these lands. The words pulled at him until he could not stay away.

she said, brushing a lock of hair from my face, “we should probably get to that literature lesson. Your mom’s paying me to teach you, not just… this.” Her eyes sparkled with a teasing glint, but she slid off the couch, grabbing her tank top and pulling it over her head. I groaned, half in protest, half in amusement, as I tugged my jeans back on. “Fine, but only because you’re the hottest teacher I’ve ever had.” Meredith laughed, swatting my arm playfully as she grabbed her bag from the floor and pulled out a worn copy of *The Great Gatsby*. “Flattery won’t get you out of this, mister. Let’s see how well you can analyze Fitzgerald’s symbolism.”

I scrolled through the limited selection of DVDs—mostly action flicks and thrillers that made me know it was his taste, until one caught my eye. Fifty Shades of Grey. I'd heard about it from friends back home, all giggles and whispers about the steamy scenes, but I'd never watched it because of my sheltered life and all that. Tonight, with frustration bubbling under my skin and that lingering heat I felt from Viktor's earlier grab, it felt like the perfect rebellion. I popped it in, cranked the volume high to drown out the silence of the cabin, and settled onto the couch, pulling a blanket over my lap for some semblance of coziness.