Romans & histoires Dark Smutty Books

I have no idea. The books were old, some pages are rotten and smell like mushrooms in a wet forest. I smiled when I realized that these books were precious. And they were all about my kind, the Helsings. For hours, all I did was read and get drowned in these pile of books. I have never been flooded with knowledge unlike before. The more I got absorbed into the pages, the more this hatred towards the corrupted vampires grew. It was eye-opening. Written on the page was,

It was just Hasmik and me in the common lounge, and she was curled up in the oversized armchair with her legs tucked under her, and a book spread open in one hand with a ridiculous grin on her face. If she wasn't gaming, she was reading. Not just any book, either. The smutty kind. The ones with half-naked men on the covers and titles that made me blush, just trying to sound them out in my head. She'd been trying, actively to get me into them. Left one on my bed last week like a trap. A big, glossy cover with glistening abs and a title that screamed bad decisions ahead. I'd stared at it for all of five minutes before shoving it under my pillow like it was cursed.

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Well, the title alone already made people goosebumps. For example, 'The Hammer and Sickle in the Sugarcane Field'. Then 'The People at the Left Intersection of the Road'. Also 'The Resistance of the Peasants', 'Under the Red Lantern', and others like that. Uniquely, the books were predominantly red in color. I knew all those books but never read them until finished. Of course, the books did not belong to Julia. Maybe it belonged to Sam or Paul.

Definitely not trying to seduce just the steam sticking to the mirror, the accidental press of bodies in the tight space, the forbidden pull of best friend's brother coming into my house. His eyes went down to my lips, which were open in a gasp, and then down to the very quick breathing of my chest, the nipples of my breasts through the fabric being stretched. "Lila..." His voice roughened, free hand twitching at his side, fighting the pull. Mine mirrored, rising to his chest to push? Or steady? The touch lingered, feeling his heart thunder under my palm. The seduction bloomed unintentional: humidity making my skin glow, his drunk haze blurring lines, our the steam.

So Proserpina moves on to the next row, then the next one, and the next one, on and on until she was literally kneeling like a child on the floor when she finally comes across a book third to the last on the bottom row in between a skinny book and leather bound one; the book was silver-gray, small and light in her hands and the cover seemed to have some sort of glossy material in it as it twinkled when she turned it here and there… ‘Kind of a child’s storybook,’ she noted. The book was almost as big as her palm and seemed to have pages as what one would expect from a novelette. She carefully opens it up to the first page–not wanting to have a repeat of another destroyed book because a destro

Knowing she didn't have any time to waste, Sara started her search, reading the random titles one by one, not noticing the shadow that was watching her from the back with a sinister smile. Moving from one rack to the other, Sara stopped at a certain shelf that contained a single book, She wondered if the word book could be used to describe the huge tome, unlike the rest of the section's content, this book barely had any dust on it, the wrapping was also eye catching as it was made of dark leather, the darkest she ever saw, and so were the pages, Sara thought to herself as she extended her hand, curious about the odd book, but was stopped midway by the unexpected whispers.

“Didn’t think Luca Moretti had a thing for flowers.” I lingered, breathing in the green. The warmth. It was the first room that didn’t feel like a coffin. After a while, I slipped out, tracing my steps until I found another unlocked door—an oak one this time. A secret library. Of-fucking-course he had a library. Books from floor to ceiling, the air scented with old paper and leather. Dust clung to some shelves, but a few titles looked recently disturbed. I trailed my fingers over a thick volume of Dante. Predictable.

The heavy wooden doors of the library creaked open, announcing the arrival of the mysterious Tuesday visitor. Jessica's heart fluttered in her chest as she felt his intense gaze upon her from across the room. She pretended to focus on organizing the bookshelves, but her body was acutely aware of his presence, like a predator stalking its prey. Damon moved silently through the stacks, his tall frame casting long shadows in the dim light. He drank in the sight of Jessica's petite form, imagining running his hands over her curves. The way she bit her lower lip nervously, trying to act nonchalant, only fueled his desire.

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.