Erotica Romance Novels & Stories

Also, this isn't an erotica and for those of you who love slow burn romance then I got you covered. I'm really thankful for giving this book a chance and I hope to see your comments too❤️

Trigger Warnings This is dark erotic fiction. Contains explicit sexual content, hard BDSM, dubcon/noncon, extreme size difference, monster anatomy, breeding kink, physical violence, domestic abuse, emotional trauma, power imbalance, and degradation. Written in Third Person Limited POV. 18+ only. Reader discretion is strongly advised. Chapter 1 The Dragons’ Paid Pussy

“My secretary. My ex-wife. My perfect little sluts.” Jessica and Claire watched him, lips parted, hands lazily touching each other’s bodies as they waited. With a deep, guttural groan, Charlie’s orgasm hit. Thick, powerful ropes of cum erupted from his cock, raining down on them. He painted Jessica’s full breasts and face first, then shifted to cover Claire’s tits and open mouth. Stream after stream of hot cum splashed across their bodies...on their stomachs, necks, cheeks, and tongues. Both women moaned softly, arching slightly to receive every drop as he emptied his balls completely over them.

Liam’s mouth found my nipple as he sucked softly, his tongue flicking the sensitive peak. “You taste so good, Kara,” he mumbled, his hands sliding down to tug my shorts off, leaving me fully bare. “Open for me.” I obeyed, spreading my thighs as his fingers brushed my entrance, already wet. “Oh fuck, Liam,” I gasped, my hips twitching. “Touch me there.” Adam moved behind me, his hard cock pressing against my ass through his shredded pants. “You’re so hot like this, Kara,” he growled, biting my. “Bend over for me, let me feel you.”

“Your analysis is sharp. But you’re romanticizing the power exchange. Sit.” She took the chair across from him. For the next forty minutes they sparred over the text—her arguing the eroticism came from surrender, him pushing back that it was control, domination, the illusion of choice. Their voices stayed low but intense. The rest of the building was empty. Just the two of them and the heavy silence pressing in. Hale stood up at one point to pull a slim volume from the top shelf. When he reached, his shirt stretched across his back. Mia’s mouth turned dry.

Fired up, she continued. Her hands worked my balls gently while her tongue swirled around my tip. Again, her throat opened up to give me a deep throat. My breath was heavy, my grip on her tightened, then…..I felt it. With a whimper, I felt myself explode in climax, jerking everything into her mouth. Fuck! That was good. Kassie scrambled to her feet and began her flash exit. “I love you, baby.” Again, I perfectly understood why I had said it before. No one gives better head than that little pretty thing.

I nodded, breath hitching as he slid one thick finger inside me. “Read tonight’s first vow,” he said, nodding toward the notebook beside us. “While I get you ready for my cock.” My hand trembled as I reached for it and opened to the newest page. “I vow… to crave your touch even when I’m supposed to be working for her,” I read, voice breathy. “To let you use my body as your secret outlet… until the guilt only makes me wetter.” Lucas groaned softly and added a second finger, pumping them deep and steady while his thumb worked my clit.

"I want... to be owned by you... as I have owned you. I want to feel the poison... of your skin... until there is nothing left of the Moretti name. Just... us." He grabbed her waist, his fingers bruising her skin, his strength a flickering, dying candle that refused to go out. He pulled her down, his mouth crashing against hers. The kiss tasted of salt, fever, and a desperate, terminal hunger. This was the "Explicit Erotic Romance" at its most visceral—a union occurring at the edge of the abyss.

The whole day had been hectic. I took out a bottle of wine and poured myself some. I dropped onto the cushions, remote in hand, and flicked on the TV. Mindless noise to fill the silence. I scrolled through channels, news, reruns, some late night talk shows until I landed on a movie. One of those erotic thrillers, the kind with dim lighting and heavy breathing. I almost changed it, but the scene caught me. A woman alone in a lavish room, silk robe slipping off her shoulder, her hand trailing down her body as soft music swelled.

"You want a puppet who'll nod and smile. However, now the puppet's strings are cut, and you're freaking out." Francis' expression turned icy. "I'm not freaking out." "Then why switch my meds?" I asked, a challenge. "You're terrified. Terrified that without those drugs, I'll realize I don't love…" His response was to kiss me, a fierce, angry kiss. I fought back, but he held me by the nape of my neck, deepening the kiss until the metallic taste of blood filled my mouth. He had bitten my lip. It was a kiss unlike any other in the ten years I had known him, fueled by both lust and a need to punish.