Erotic Fictio Novels & Stories

Will treats them as maids rather than fans. I almost scoffed at what I saw, but instead, I forced a smile. That was only Will's worth. A fake smile for a fake affection. Is it because I can see myself in him that I am disgusted with him? We're both imposters. Maybe that's why I'm not delighted with him. Anyway, I took the flowers and heard the girls squeal. Will and his minions spread rumors that Will was patiently pursuing me. That Will is diligent, and his love is patient and selfless. That Will is head over heels in love with me.

Cain closed the door and turned to face me as I ran a hand through my hair, attempting to regain composure. "What did he say?" I asked. "Something that could have waited until morning." He watched me with a wary gaze, his eyebrows drawn together slightly. "Why did you pull away so quickly?" He asked slowly. "You said we couldn't have sex," I told him honestly. "That wasn't sex" "It was foreplay," I countered, "which, by definition, leads to other things." He let out a long sigh, a rather angry expression still plastered on his face. "I need another cold shower," he said, beginning to walk back towards the bathroom.

I explained, and this time his big brown eyes come to meet mine, offering me a small nod. “Yeah, I guess I get that.” He smiled. “So what else did I do seeing as you seem to have turned me into some serious romantic love-sick fool?” And there we lay for I don’t know how long discussing all the things we could explain with regards to out past together if anybody were to ask us. Some we were able to intermingle the truth of our friendship, others were well and truly imaginary, which we had fun creating. There had been so much laughter, and smiles as we lay side by side chatting about everything under the sun, building this oddly fake relationship we needed to make everyone else believe. Yet, b

“The terms. The arrangement. The… fake love story we now have to parade to the entire world because I couldn’t handle being humiliated.” Dante leaned back against the sofa, watching me like he was waiting for a performance. “Go on.” Fine. He wanted rules? He’d get them. “Rule One,” I said, pacing the length of the suite. “We sell it. All of it. The public wants a fairy tale, so that’s what we’ll give them. Photos, kisses, handholding, the whole charade. If we’re in a room together, we look like a couple that can’t keep their hands off each other. No exceptions.”

“What matters is that I’ve been observing your 'situation' for some time." Situation? "I know your marriage to Brutus has become… unsatisfactory. Particularly in the intimate aspects.” My gut twisted. A cold flush spread across my chest. “Excuse me?” He continued as if I hadn’t spoken, his tone formal, almost clinical, like a surgeon explaining a delicate procedure. “I am aware that last night, as on many previous occasions, you were forced to simulate climax during intercourse. Brutus’s performance leaves you physically unfulfilled and emotionally disconnected. You fake your pleasure to preserve his ego, but the frustration has been building inside you for years. You crave more than routine

Her cheeks burned red and she gripped the edge of the table. When her orgasm hit, it was powerful. Her pussy spasmed hard around my fingers, flooding them with warm wetness. She bit her lip so hard I thought she might draw blood, eyes squeezing shut as waves rolled through her. I kept fingering her through it, drawing out every tremor while pretending to reach for more wine. The risk, the secrecy, the way her body betrayed her for me; it all fed something dark and addictive inside my chest.

Serra glanced at Jane from the corner of her eye. "How long have you known each other?" "Quite a while," Lucas felt like he was being interrogated with Serra's various questions, and he also wondered why he was willing to indulge her. "Oh, I know. You two must be lovers, right?" "What? What are you talking about, Se?" "Just admit it, Jane." "No, he is not." "Well, you better ask your sister about that." Lucas replied. Unfortunately, Serra couldn't continue her interrogation when the nurse came and informed her that she had to undergo chemotherapy.

“You don’t come until I say. You hold it.” He goes back down and keeps the same relentless rhythm until I’m shaking and begging under my breath. Every time the pressure builds too high he backs off, blows cool air over my clit, waits for the edge to fade, then starts again. He does it four times. By the fifth I’m crying from how much I need it, hips trying to chase his mouth. “Please, please let me—” “Not yet.”

I was sitting alone at the empty dining table when my phone buzzed. It was an anonymous text. No name, just a picture and a message. The picture was of Albert’s hand, a hand I knew better than my own. But the laurel wreath tattoo symbolizing our mate bond had been altered—a tiny letter ‘M’ was now etched into the design. The message read: All I had to do was ask, and he let me leave my mark on him. Another message came through. So what if the ceremony is fake? He told me that in his heart, I’m his chosen one.

“Why did you drink this? You never drink. Now suddenly you’ve taken to it? You know how much high effect it will have on you? Erica’s eyes sparkled with defiance and vulnerability. “You know what? I don’t know anything!” she exclaimed, her voice rising as she stepped forward, closing the space between them. In a bold move, she gripped his collar and pulled him closer, the warmth of her breath brushing against his skin. “And yes! I faked that sprain in my ankle! You know why?” She pointed her index finger into his chest, her legs wobbling slightly as she spoke. Kabir instinctively wrapped an arm around her waist, steadying her, and turned her into the room, locking the door behind them with a