Erotic Horror Book Novels & Stories

Then, as if reclaiming control, she walks to the door and leaves it slightly ajar, a wordless cue for me to leave. But I don't. "Oh, I am obsessed?" I reply, voice dangerously low, silk wrapped around steel. I smirk, stepping closer. "Obsessed? No, Ere. Obsessed is staying up six nights straight thinking about how deep you shoved those fingers inside yourself. "Obsessed is jerking my cock to the memory of your thighs trembling. What I am—" I lean over her desk, my voice dropping to a growl, "—is starving to taste you while you're still dripping like that".

I couldn’t have been more wrong. A deep bass thrummed through the walls as I stepped inside the VIP room, my heels clicking against the polished floor. The scent of leather and something musky hung in the air, making my pulse quicken. I blinked, adjusting to the low, amber lighting—and that’s when I saw it. Not rows of people sipping wine and discussing plot twists. No. Bodies. Moving. Writhing. Fucking. A man with dark eyes and broad shoulders stood at the front of the room, holding a book in one hand, his voice smooth and commanding as he read aloud from an erotic novel. His words painted vivid, filthy images, and everyone in the room seemed caught in his spell.

But as I finally sat up and started cleaning the small mess I’d made, I heard it. The soft click of the door opening behind me. Before I could react, a large hand clamped over my mouth, muffling my scream. A powerful body pressed against my back, trapping me on the bed. “Seems I finally found the naughty little thing who’s been sneaking into my room,” Lord Blackwood’s deep, dangerous voice whispered hotly against my ear. My blood ran cold. “You enjoy listening to me fuck other women, little maid?” His free hand slid down my body, gripping my hip possessively. “Then perhaps it’s time you learn what it feels like to be the one beneath me.”

Many of the people who wrote the articles and that sent in letters also included pictures, and one picture I particularly liked was of three couples daisy chained in oral sex, everyone sucking on someone else. I must have fallen asleep, because I woke up to the sensation of my nipple being pinched. I had been having an erotic dream and didn't realize that it wasn't part of my dream. Opening my eyes I saw that Vicky was smiling at me. "Nice nap?" She inquired. "Yeah, I guess so," I said, stretching. "Did you enjoy the magazine?" Vicky asked, nodding towards it. "It's really interesting," I said. "What do you think of the idea, though?" Vicky asked. "Does it excite you or do you think it's wro

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His jaw clenched, and his hands flexed, then the last fragile thread of his control snapped. “God damn you, Nicole,” he snarled, and suddenly, he was kissing me back with ferocious intensity. His mouth claimed mine, tongue sliding deep and demanding, tasting of whiskey and pure masculine heat. He backed me up until my thighs hit the edge of the heavy oak desk in the centre of his grand library. With effortless strength, he lifted me onto the polished surface, shoving aside a stack of leather-bound books and papers that had scattered across the floor with soft thuds.

His hands slid down her body, his touch firm and confident, as he guided her to the edge of the couch. Sadile felt a thrill of excitement as she realized what was about to happen, her body responding to the anticipation with a hunger that surprised even her. The room was filled with the sounds of their breathing, heavy and ragged, as Travis positioned himself before her, his eyes locked on hers with an intensity that made her heart flutter. She was dimly aware of Jenna moving closer, her presence adding a layer of eroticism to the already charged scene.

4 LENA I felt him then, a shift, something more insidious than ever before. His presence wasn’t just inside my head anymore—it was everywhere. It filled the air, thick and suffocating. I couldn’t escape it. His fingers—no, my fingers—lifted to my lips, brushing over them in a soft, deliberate motion. The touch was gentle, almost tender, but it only made the horror worse. It wasn’t my hand. It wasn’t my touch. The realization was a slow, creeping cold that snaked down my spine. His lips, warm and familiar, pressed against mine, and I felt it—him, claiming me.