Christian Fiction For Men Novels & Stories

he goes away from the bed and left me smiling like a teenager. What is happening to Christian, he Is a lot active, and I do love my men, strong, handsome and fucks hard.

I folded my arms across my chest, challenging him. James grinned. “I read your manuscripts.” My stomach dropped. “And,” he continued, laughing, “Your descriptions of love are so cheesy. Your male character yearns for the female. Christian Blackwood doesn’t fit that narrative at all.” He shrugged. “I mean… am I wrong?” I scoffed, shaking my head. “I can see you’re fully recovered,” I muttered, “Considering you have the energy to badmouth the man who paid for your surgery.” “I’m not badmouthing him,” James defended, holding up his hands. “I’m just stating facts. You’re not the type to date someone like Christian Blackwood. Does he even buy you flowers? Know your favorite songs and all that? Or

Eleanor continued, "Some say online men's fiction is too immoral — the male lead has more than a dozen women, all of them willing. Is this a problem that needs fixing? What's your view?" "I think it's perfectly normal," Mr. Vane said, looking at her with narrowed eyes. "Ancient kings had harems of three thousand. It's just fiction — what's the harm in writing about two women? Where else would the inspiration come from? Besides, you can't deny that some women genuinely like to see us men living well." Eleanor knew this was Writer Vane's true opinion. The reason he dared to say it aloud was because he knew it couldn't be published, and he wasn't afraid of the consequences. If he deliberately r

“Your filthy, uncontrolled spawn is just blowing ash now, just like you’ll be, the second I--” “The second you what?” he taunts, breathing hot air right up against my snarling lips. “I’m an expert at reading people, I will have you know.” He strokes his thumb teasingly low on my stomach, down toward my treacherous, rising hard on. The second we’re in close enough proximity, the thing wakes up and refuses to be put back to rest, not until it’s spent. “And you remain so very easy to read,” Christian gloats. “I spotted your proclivities in an instant, remember? I can see your every conflict, and I can see most clearly…” He smiles. “You still haven’t reported me to your superiors, love.”

The New York skyline stabbed through the window, all sharp and cold, but the pages weren’t helping. The door creaked open, and there he was—Christian, leaning against the frame, arms crossed over his chest. His black t-shirt clung to him, black pants sharp as his gaze. He looked like trouble, the kind that could burn the world down and walk away smirking. But There’s something about Christian people don’t see. They see the scowl, the sharp edges, the darkness he doesn’t bother hiding. But me? I see the quiet peace underneath it. I’ve seen it since the beginning. And no matter how rough he gets, I know this is the man who would tear everything apart just to make sure I’m okay.

Christian, knowing such a dilemma, had undoubtedly enjoyed more than ever that this had happened because he had long drawn my attention to the fateful behavior that I had been presenting for a long time against women. Christian never liked that I manifested myself as an ogre merely hungry for pleasure towards them and did not give them the due value they deserved, so knowing that I had been the object of such an intervention presumed an achievement that I completely celebrated because for the first time someone had put me in my place. With the sting of his words which penetrated my thoughts piercing to the depths of my consciousness, I kept silence and decided in that case to take a drink of

In the beginning, Judaism which begot the Christian faith was a faith that was built on sacred sex. Or at least that was what one author like that was trying to say through his book. I think it was Dan Brown? Yeah, and the book was The Da Vinci Code. In the book, speaking through a fictional Harvard university scholar, he buttressed the fact that sex was a divine act through which men encountered God through the sacred feminine. That the Holy of Holies in the temple built by king Solomon not only housed God, but also his female equal known as Shekinah. He told millions of his readers that men would visit the temple and the priestesses would help them to encounter God through physical contact

“Then maybe you shouldn’t set me up with stupid and superfluous women.” Christian’s shoulders sink and his smile vanishes. "When I look at you, I recall my buddy from university. I seem to remember that he was charming and quite the lady magnet. He got his hands on the most beautiful ones. He was the perfect image of the womanizer CEO, except for that last chick who made him pull the brakes on dating. And then the most coveted bachelor in Bucharest turned into a fucking monk." He sighs, trying to calm his increasing tone. "Look, I’m good at what I’m doing, but I’m no miracle worker. You have to show some interest in these girls. Be your previous self. I liked him. People liked him. Where is

Christian just laughed at him and went back to his seat earlier. Christian is one of the men who liked me. It’s been a long time, anyway. He also planned on courting me but my brothers didn’t let him. And they just said, they don’t like him. Because he’s a playboy. Bryce pulled me onto the sofa and sat me down.

“I am not pretty, and I am poor.” “I don’t think you’re ugly—in my opinion, you are the prettiest girl I have ever seen.” “Liar.” I turned on my heels and walked away, but Christian followed me. “You don’t even know what I look like without my disguise, you haven’t even seen me as a woman.” I laughed bitterly. “Being attracted to someone like me is no less than being gay.” “I don’t care, whatever I’m seeing right now is enough for me.” “You said it yourself.” I reminded him. “Men are filled with more desires, especially when they are in a place with limited females.”