Erotic Horror Book Novels & Stories

"I read one Gor novel, too, which really isn't a romance novel." "No contemporary BDSM books, no how-tos, nothing like that?" Sam inquired. "No. That was pretty much it," I replied. "Did your wife have a safe word?" Brianna asked. "Yes. I figured there had to be some way for Julia to opt out of her slavery if the reality wasn't meeting her expectations," I answered. "With the exception of the John Norman Gor novel, all of the romances were by women authors? In none of the reverse harem books, the multiple men were ever upset or jealous at having to share their woman?" Sam asked again.

WARNING FOR OTHER CONTENTS (20+). Dear readers, I hope you are enjoying and moving with the flow of the chapters that have been uploaded so far. As you all may know, this is an erotic romance book, and a werewolf genre too. I wouldn't say stop reading and I can't say read on but you should know what you want. THE FOLLOWING CHAPTERS FROM HERE MIGHT CONTAIN A LOT OF DESIRABLE SEX SCENES AND HEART BREAKING WORDS TOO.

Honestly, the only room in the house that was finished was the one he was using—the master bedroom. Behind the door, the girl continued to cry, and the sobs seemed to be amplified as they reached his ears. When he closed his eyes, his brain immediately found the memory of her flushed body tied to the bedpost - wide open, completely at his mercy. Eric sighed and straightened himself. Maybe he'll stop by the pub down the street and find an easygoing girl willing to help distract him from the girl behind the locked door. He ran a hand through his hair and sighed again as he strode across the kitchen. Opening the refrigerator door, he felt the cool moisture spread on his skin, so wonderful. Ever

"It's true. Quite a few of the books I used to read were reverse harem novels. One woman having to serve two or more men. They weren't the only type I read, but maybe fifty percent." "Wasn't my brother enough of a man for you?" "Master is the most skillful lover I've ever had. The best orgasms of my life have been with him?" "Would you agree, Lisa?" Cindy asked. "Definitely. Totally cosmic cums; much better than my former husband." "The one who raped you both, who got shot? Mom and Dad told me about him." "That's the one." "So why did you fantasize about multiple men fucking you?" Cindy asked.

Charlotte woke to the slow, deliberate lash of a tongue against her clit. The sensation hit like a spark… sharp, electric and unexpected. Her body responded before her mind fully caught up: a soft gasp escaped her lips, hips lifting instinctively toward the source of pleasure. The tip of that same tongue flicked over the swollen bud repeatedly… teasing strokes that sent zinging sensations racing through her core, down her thighs and up her spine. Each flick was precise, maddening, designed to make her ache without mercy

Angelo murmured, and suddenly, I felt him press a hot, open-mouthed kiss just beneath my ear, his tongue running slowly along my skin and leaving it tingling. I began to pant. My heart raced. This wasn't right. This really, really wasn't right, but his tongue felt good. My skin grew sensitive under his hands. I was beginning to feel the same heat that I felt the last time he had tried to touch me, although I knew that this time we were alone in the house, meaning that there was nothing that could interrupt him. When his hand moved from my abdomen to the small of my back, pulling me further toward him, I squirmed a little, feeling the heat rise. He was trying to seduce me, and I was terrified

The promise of the taboo, the agreement we had made, and the sheer audacity of the act reignited the fire in my gut. Even though I had just come, the psychological charge of the situation was too potent. As I stood up and looked down at my cock, I was amazed to see it already stirring, thickening back toward its full nine-inch glory. The anticipation was a powerful aphrodisiac. I quickly showered, the cold water doing nothing to dampen the heat between my legs. I dressed in something simple, my mind racing. I could still smell Lilian on my skin, a reminder of who I belonged to, which only made the prospect of invading Sarah’s space more erotic.

Intimate. “Shh.” One finger pressed against my lips. “No more talking unless I tell you to. We wouldn’t want security to hear the prim little library assistant moaning like a whore when they finally check the building.” The crude word sent a shameful thrill straight to my core. I was already wet, embarrassingly so, just from one kiss and the way he was looking at me like he planned to devour me slowly. He stepped back slightly, eyes never leaving mine, and reached for one of the leather-bound books on the nearby table. It was an old edition of The Decameron, Boccaccio’s tales of lust and sin during the plague. One of the restricted volumes he’d borrowed before.

He set the glass down and crossed to me, stopping just close enough that I could smell his cologne dark, expensive, dangerously familiar. “Notebook?” he asked. I lifted the leather-bound book like a shield. My handwriting inside had grown filthier with every page he made me add. He took it from my hands, flipped it open to the newest entry, and read my words aloud in that low, commanding voice. “‘I vow to spread you open and taste how desperate you are for a man you shouldn’t want.’” My breath caught. I’d written it at 3 a.m. last night, fingers trembling, shame and arousal warring until I gave in and put it on paper.

Ellie was trapped in her erotic dream, and in it, the love of her life was stroking inside her while kissing her shoulders and neck. It sent tingles down to her toes and clit. In the dream, his manhood was thick and hard, filling her to the brim; her pussy was wet and hot, stuffy like the South American jungles; her breathing was quick and shallow in her dream. Oh, what a lovely dream... or was it?