Entertaining Books For Adults Novels & Stories

Emma said, walking deep into the living room. "Thanks." She walked to a set of shelves on the far side of the room, running her fingers over the spines of his books. A lot of them were classics, novels by Dickens, Voltaire, Dumas, Melville, and Hemingway. She smiled when her fingers ran over the spine of not one, but three copies of Mitchell's Gone with the Wind. There were modern novels, too, including Stephen King and Sidney Sheldon, but they didn't look as well read as some of the others.

Mom supported me, not because she understood, but because she loved me and wanted me to be happy. I stood up and walked around the library, feeling a little restless. They had all of the classics, and some of them looked as though they were expensive copies. Other authors that I regularly read, such as James Patterson and Dean Koontz were on the shelves. They even had some of my female favorites, such as Lisa Jackson, Lisa Gardner and Heather Graham Pozzessere. Then I wondered down to another section where I found some more provocative books. They had a lot of erotica books. One huge volume stood out: The Kama Sutra.

he asked, disappointment laced in his tone. “Tell me a story,” she said, watching as his expression shifted from disappointment to confusion. “A story?” he muttered. “What kind of story?” “Don’t you know what a story is? Bedtime stories, novels, memoirs, biographies—things like that.” “Is that a joke?” he laughed. “Your lifestyle is so boring. How does a story entertain anybody? Horror, thrillers, silly romance, history—blah, blah, blah. It’s a waste of time.”

The adult-themed carnival was everything I had hoped for and more. Neon lights flashed in every color imaginable. The air smelled of cotton candy, popcorn, and something darker — the faint musk of arousal and perfume. Laughter and moans mixed with the distant sounds of carnival games and rides. This was not a place for families. This was a place for adults who wanted to play.

The windows faced the gardens, and the morning light was golden and warm and poured across the reading chairs like honey. She ran her fingers along the spines. Classics, histories, business books that probably belonged to Alexander. Nothing that looked even remotely interesting. “Where do they keep the fun books?” She moved to a different shelf where the light didn't quite reach. There were older volumes here—paperbacks mixed with hardcovers, spines cracked from actual use instead of just decoration. “This is more like it.” She crouched down, scanning titles. A thriller, a mystery and finally a romance with a cover so embarrassingly dramatic she almost laughed out loud. She reached for it an

and trying to close her legs. But I didn’t stop. I pushed her panties aside and slid one finger along her slick folds, finding her clit and rubbing it in slow, gentle circles. She gasped, her book dropping to the floor with a soft thud. I kept going, teasing her until her hips started twitching. Then I eased one finger inside her tight, dripping pussy, curling it just right while my thumb kept working her clit.

Curiosity was eating at her. With an effort, she made herself focus on the other titles. He had books on negotiating, battle tactics, history, agriculture…boring. Didn’t the man read any fiction? There was a book on stained glass that looked mildly interesting, but she kept scanning the shelves, hoping for something more enticing. Her search was rewarded. There, right in the middle of his shelves at eye level, was an entire shelf of books devoted to lovemaking. Wiley’s eyes boggled as she read the titles: An Illustrated Guide to the Sensual Arts. A Woman’s Climax. Emotional Need and the Sensual Virgin. There were dozens of titles.

At least he is nice. Sometimes after training or after meals, I would find a small surprise in my room. Chocolates, flowers, and books to relieve my boredom. I suspect it was Merideth, or maybe Jamie; they are the only people that have actually shown me any kindness since I’ve been here. Plus, the books were mostly sappy romance novels, which seems more like a Mistress Merideth’s thing. This was not a genre I’d ever read before, and I was quickly finding that I really enjoyed them. They were light and easy, and I didn’t have to think too hard. Yet, I still found myself completely pulled into the ridiculous stories. They gave me something else to think about other than my own horror story. Es

I sent our four children to his parents' house for the whole weekend so we could finally have some peace and quiet. Jimmy had promised he'd be home for a romantic dinner and some much-needed alone time, but instead, I spent the night drinking wine by myself. I looked at the nightstand. The candles I'd lit were just piles of cold wax now. My red silk scarf was still draped over the lamp, a reminder of the things I wanted him to do to me with it. I groaned and flopped back onto the pillows. I had really expected to get my back blown out and my pussy stretched out last night. I was starving for it.

he says smiling back at me, I asked him if he needed any help. "No, I'm just here to read, if you're not busy you're welcome to join me," he says inviting me to sit next to him in the reading area, there wasn't much of a crowd giving me a chance to sit down with him. "Let's go sit then," he says picking a story, it wasn't the same one he was reading as before, this was more like babies' stories I get my snacks from my bag and came back to sit down with him. At first, my adult self was wondering why he chose a Childers book but little me didn't care. I let him read the story with me right next to him. I was so entranced with the story until I felt something warm go down my princess area, I kn