Best Short Story Collections Novels & Stories

My voice came out softer than I wanted. “You can.” His hand moved. His fingers brushed over my wrist as he turned the page. It was not an accident. I felt the rough pad of his thumb slide slowly across the inside of my wrist. He left it there for a second longer than he needed to. “But you have to stop being scared of the heat. This story has real heat in it, Lila. Don’t sand it down. Don’t make it polite. Write the dirty truth.”

The kind you read under the covers with a little smirk on your face. Yes, darling. That kind. You’ve just stepped into a world of heat, hunger, and heart-pounding unapologetic pleasure. Each story in this collection is designed to do one thing. To set your senses on fire. And maybe, just maybe, get you in the mood to do something about it. Wink, wink! Now, before we go any further, let’s address the elephant in the room. Plot? Pfft. Listen.

By the time they reached the mall, Meera was throbbing with need. The luxury shopping center was bustling with people, but Alexander moved with the confidence of a man who owned half the city. He took her straight to a high-end designer store known for its elegant yet provocative dresses. A stylish saleswoman greeted them. Alexander spoke calmly, “She needs evening wear. Something short, tight, and revealing. We’ll try several.” Meera’s face burned as the woman led her to the fitting rooms with an armful of dresses. Alexander settled into a plush chair just outside, legs spread, looking every bit the powerful older man.

“Not even close, baby. I'm gonna fill you up until you're dripping with my cum.” THE END. PLEASE WATCH OUT FOR BOOK 2 — HOTTER AND EVEN BETTER!

Channy inhaled deeply after applying a bold red lipstick to her lips. She looked at herself in the full-length mirror in her bedroom. She wore a knee-length red skater dress with her natural black and wavy hair loose. "This is the last time, Channy. This is the last time." She murmured to herself. Channy didn't know how long she merely stared at herself in the mirror, thinking about her plan for tonight, which brought tears to her eyes. She immediately closed her eyes and relaxed. She made a vow to herself that she would never cry again. She will no longer waste her tears on someone incapable of fighting and standing up for her.

These are the questions a bookstore owner face when a mysterious book shows up. Samurai and Other Stories by William Meikle—No one can handle Scottish folklore with elements of the darkest horror, science fiction and fantasy, suspense and adventure like William Meikle. The Dark at the End of the Tunnel by Taylor Grant—Offered for the first time in a collected format, this selection features ten gripping and darkly imaginative stories by Taylor Grant, a Bram Stoker Award® nominated author and rising star in the suspense and horror genres. Grant exposes the terrors that hide beneath the surface of our ordinary world, behind people’s masks of normalcy, and lurking in the shadows at the farthest

How could I function if I started reliving old traumatic events? Sometimes, though, we have compartments for good things. Even amazing things, ‘best thing that ever happened’ to you kind of things. But they have to be locked up, too. Oftentimes those fantastic compartments are usually accompanied by sadness, by deep longings for things that were, and what might have been.

“Better than those dirty stories you write in your diary?” I winked at her and saw the coldness in her countenance. “I only write, I have never really experienced them.” “What do you write about then? Your fantasies?” “Even better…I write about how I fanstasize other people having sex.” I was dumbfounded. “Oh my goodness, that is the horniest thing I have ever heard.”

Her brother, thankfully, was out with friends—some last-minute poker night. Good. She padded into the living room, heading straight for the bookshelf Adrian always hovered around. His collection was huge, but it was the bottom shelf she wanted—dark red spines, old bindings. Erotica, classic and poetic. She’d seen the way his eyes lingered on those books when he thought no one was watching. Her fingers brushed one of the worn covers: Venus in Furs. She smirked. Just as she was settling onto the couch with it—tucked into the far corner, legs curled beneath her—she heard a door open.

She was looking over my shoulder at the same wall and reading some of them softly under her breath. “Hmmm, look at this one,” I said. “This person seems to have described our date last week in perfect detail.” It was a story about a woman who liked to be spanked and punished. “I like this one,” Carrie said, pointing to another. “I really think we should try and work this one into our next date.” The story was about a couple who arranged to act like strangers and meet up at a trashy bar and pick each other up. There were long descriptions about them fucking in the back of the bar as the guys playing pool watched and stroked their cues.