Collection Of Novels Novels & Stories

“You are pathetic.” Her body flinched at my words, but another wave of shivers covered her arms. “Dirty little doll.” The more I talked, the more her nipples were standing at attention, the more her breathing was getting heavier, the more her hands were gripping the fabric they were tied with. My fingers traced her leg. “I bet you are one of the people who like reading p**n books in public.” I moved to her other leg, gripping her ankle. “I bet you keep a straight face while your panties are getting soaked.”

“Since we have destroyed Azba, I have no urgent need of him. No large band will appear now till the first grass.” “Is Azba cut to pieces then?” inquired Novoveski. “So cut up that I do not know if twenty-five men escaped; and even those will be caught one by one, if Mellehov has not caught them already.” “I am terribly glad of this,” said Novoveski, “for now it will be possible to go to Rasrkoff? In safety,” here he turned to Basira: “We can take to Sir Rushet the letters which her grace, our benefactress, has mentioned.”

My body hummed with satisfaction, but the fire inside me refused to die. Alex’s cum still leaked slowly from my well-fucked pussy, warm and sticky against my thighs as I lay beside him on the rumpled sheets. The clock on the nightstand glowed just past midnight, the storm outside showing no signs of easing. Good. I didn’t want this night to end. My stepson’s cock had awakened something primal in me, and at forty-two, I felt insatiable. Every inch of my curvy body ached for more of him—his hands, his mouth, that thick, relentless dick stretching me open again and again.

Her heels clicked against the gravel as she walked over, all smiles and manicured hands. I forced a professional nod. "We still doing the open-shelving idea, or are we changing that again?" She laughed like we were sharing a joke. "You know me. Always torn between aesthetics and storage." I didn't bother smiling back. My mind wasn't here. It was with Sara. Sara, biting her lip. Slipping into my bed in the middle of the night like she belonged there. Moaning my name like it was a prayer laced with sin.

The alternative was worse, my family ruined, me thrown to the streets. Pushing through the heavy doors, I entered a world of shadows and silk. Velvet curtains draped the walls, muffling the low hum of voices and the occasional moan echoing from hidden rooms. A woman in a sheer gown approached, her eyes appraising me like merchandise. "Mirelle Kane? Follow me. Your collector awaits." My stomach twisted. The collector. Rafe Draven. I had seen his name on the letter, a man whose reputation preceded him like a storm cloud.

Well, I can't fuck myself, someone has to do the fucking" I replied. He chuckled. I returned to his cock, sucking like a slut in heat. I made sexual sounds to excite him; years of watching p**n and reading erotic stories had taught me that men love hearing erotic moans from women, even if they are just for effect, not because my pussy is actually getting stimulated. The New York best selling romantic novels were my best companions during my college days.

Chapter – 0007 Damon POV The library was nearly deserted at 10:30 p.m. on a Thursday. Only the desperate and the sleepless remained. I’d come here to dig through old newspaper archives on Professor Lang’s “suicide,” but my mind kept drifting back to Lila. I was scanning microfiche when I heard footsteps. Soft and familiar. Then her scent. Lila appeared at the end of the row, wearing an oversized hoodie and tiny shorts that made her legs look endless.

At twenty-one, Lara was still a virgin, and most nights, that fact gnawed at her like an unsolved error in her code, but tonight, like so many others, her focus wavered. The lines of Python code blurred as her mind drifted to the hidden folder on her phone, the one buried deep in a sub-sub-folder, password-protected and labeled innocuously as "Notes_Backup." It was her secret stash of hardcore p**n, the kind that made her cheeks burn even in the privacy of her own room. She couldn't help it; she was addicted.

“Come in.” Maya stood in the doorway, damp from the rain, a few curls escaping her bun. “Sorry—I know it’s not office hours, but I was in the library and realized I left my copy of the secondary sources book in the hall. Did you happen to see it?” Julian stood, scanning the podium area in his mind. “I think I put it on the side table. Come in, I’ll check my bag.” She stepped inside, closing the door against the draft from the hallway. The office was warm, lined with bookshelves and a single comfortable armchair opposite his desk. Julian found the book and handed it to her. Their fingers brushed. Neither pulled away immediately.

are all of those boxes full of your course books? Wow! Looks like you’re really into making the most of this opportunity. But it’s great... in today’s world, it’s... huh, wait a minute... is this... this can’t be your course material. It’s... a... sex manual... um... more like a masturbation guide... holy shhh... really? Oh no, no. Don’t look so alarmed. I wasn’t really expecting this... but I don’t mind at all. In fact, I encourage it.