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I begged. He slid it in, slow soft strokes, like he was treating his little princess. He kept going, I held my swollen nipples, pressing hard on them. “Ha… Harder” I stuttered. He went in with heavier thrust slow and hard. His laps colliding with my cheeks, every stroke made me gasp, he wrapped his hand on my neck like he owned me, then tighten his hand, as he gave faster strokes. I felt his cock pushing my walls and rubbing my clit faster and harder. I raised my hips, making my pussy tighter, increasing the friction between his cock and my walls. His cock came out and I held it, shoved it back in me and he smiled “There, there my slut” he said.

My library professor whose deep commanding voice made my thighs clench during lectures. The man I’d fantasized about bending me over these very tables and fucking me senseless until I can’t remember my name. I opened the book, and the dedication page read: For those who crave quiet darkness.” My breath hitched. I flipped to the next page and started reading. “She knelt before him in the silence of stacks, skirts pushed high, panties already soaked. “Read it out,” He ordered. “Every filthy word, while I taste how wet you’ve become for me.”

As if his presence isn't enough, now I am even more turned on. I squeeze my thighs together, shifting uncomfortably in the chair. "I'm sorry sir." "Sorry?" He slowly makes his way towards me, his eyes still fixed on me and making all my senses flare. I can smell his cologne, a thick mix of chocolate, spirit and cashmere. He stops right in front of me, his form completely enveloping mine. "Do you think sorry will take away the images you've planted in my head? Images of your tight, little cunt?"

Then he pushes his cock even deeper and we both moan like animals I know this dark romance can destroy everything. It is very bad. It is disgusting. It is the worst kind of sin. But every time his thick cock slides into my wet cunt, every time he slaps my ass and calls me his dirty stepdaughter whore, every time his hot cum leaks out of me later while I sit with my family, I feel more alive than ever. The age gap, the taboo, the constant risk of getting caught — it all makes the pleasure so much stronger and dirtier

She smiled and ended 'I do sound it don't I? Julia rarely smiled, at least not at work, but when she did it lit up the entire room. 'A bit,' I conceded, 'seriously though. Have you ever read any erotica?' 'No. I just don't like all that foul language.' 'Eroticism is in the mind,' I argued, 'you don't need bad language to be erotic but equally the language of love, however crude, is nearly always erotic to some. Look I've just finished reading a story that I think you'll like. Why don't you read that and then decide?'

THE END🥳❤️ THE END OF BURNING PASSION 🥳❤️ Thank you for reading and supporting this novel, if you enjoyed this erotic collection then it’s a must to read my second book “SINFUL DESIRES”, it can be found on any book platform and unlike this book, Sinful Desires are short short stories , so just sit back and enjoy a short blissful erotic stories THANK YOU AGAIN❤️!!

His hand guided it, steady and firm, her body clenching around it as she trembled from his touch. “Read,” he said, stepping back, his eyes dark and hungry. “And keep going.” She grabbed the diary, her hands shaking, and opened it, her voice unsteady. “I want him to push me onto his desk,” she read, her hips rocking against the toy as he held it inside her. “I want him to spread my legs and take me, to make me scream his name.” He groaned again, louder this time, his knuckles white as he gripped the desk. “Fuck, Eva,” he said, his voice raw. “You’re so perfect, fucking yourself for me. Move it faster. Show me how much you want it.”

He continued, voice dropping lower. “An erotic novel. Quite explicit. The heroine was bent over her boss’s desk, skirt around her waist, getting fucked hard while he called her a dirty little slut.” My cheeks burned bright red. I wanted the floor to swallow me whole. I had been reading during my short break, thinking no one would return. I opened my mouth to apologize, but no words came out. Adrian stood up slowly and walked around the desk like a predator. He stopped right in front of me, towering over my seated form.

I cried out, my fingers tangling in his dark hair. He pushed me back onto the cot, his body covering mine. The weight of him, the heat, was everything I’d dreamed of. His hands were everywhere—kneading my breasts, sliding down my ribs, over my hips. He hooked his fingers into the waist of my simple cotton underwear and tore them down my legs. The sound of the fabric ripping was the most erotic thing I’d ever heard. Then his hand was there. Between my legs. On my pussy. A big, rough-skinned palm cupping me, his middle finger sliding through the wetness I couldn’t control.

The kiss was hungry and urgent, full of all the tension that had built up during every lecture. He backed her up until her ass hit the edge of the desk. Papers shifted under her. One hand moved from her face down to her neck, holding her in place while he kissed her harder. His other hand slid under her skirt and straight between her legs. He cupped her pussy over her panties and groaned when he felt how soaked the fabric was. “Fuck, you’re dripping,” he muttered against her mouth. He rubbed his fingers along the wet material, pressing it between her swollen lips. Sara gasped and rocked against his hand. The friction on her clit felt so good she almost came right there.