Exquisite Corpse Book Novels & Stories

It transforms the adventure through my collection into something truly extraordinary! ASIN: B0DQ81GWJC ACKNOWLEDGMENTS I want to express my heartfelt gratitude to my talented art designer, Rebekah, for the stunning digital paintings, that you can find on my P*******t page just by searching Unusualdee, and the beautiful book cover. A special thanks goes to Light and Gem for their invaluable feedback as my Beta readers. I also deeply appreciate all the other wonderful members of the SBAR (Smut Book Avid Reader) club for their unwavering support throughout the journey of compiling these smut stories. Your encouragement means the world to me.

His fingers were definitely going to leave dark prints on my skin by tomorrow. While our tongues tangled, I slowly guided his re-hardening cock back into my wet pussy, earning a deep, satisfied sigh from his chest. God, this man was lethal. Without breaking the kiss, he suddenly got up, scooping my thighs around his arms and carrying me across the room. His footsteps were just as heavy and calculated as his breathing. A sudden, loud crash startled me as books, drafting triangles, and heavy academic binders violently clattered to the floor. Liam had effortlessly cleared his hardwood counter with one sweep of his arm.

The paper fell away, revealing an old leather-bound volume, its cover embossed with faded gold lettering in a language that looked like a mix of Latin and something far older. “Tah — Rituals of the Eternal Flame and Flesh.” A sex god. Not just any fertility deity — a lost god of desire, ecstasy, and carnal dominion. The dealer’s notes had been vague, but the title alone sent heat rushing through me. I opened the book carefully. The pages were thick vellum, illuminated with intricate drawings of a towering male figure with glowing eyes, surrounded by writhing bodies in states of rapturous abandon. As I turned the first page, a faint warmth spread through the room. The watching feeling returne

Maybe if she were a little less impolite, I would have just brushed her off and focused on solely getting back at Gabriella for the embarrassment but no, she just had to talk down to me and that in my book, is unforgivable. We finally got inside the place and I swear, if I thought the exterior of the place was disgusting, I had no idea that it was only a tip of the iceberg. The interior looked, felt and smelt like a place where hundreds of people had died in a not so good way and it sent a crazy, creepy shiver down my spine. "I thought you said this is the best you've got?" I asked an unbothered Chris who simply glared at me briefly before looking away.

The designer puled out a knife from her bag and smiled at the crowed. I slammed the book shut with a loud groan and threw it across the room. I'd bought this book in hopes of getting an inspiration to try and get a design out. But from the beginning up to the part of the first run way show, the entire book was about a creepy designer stealing corpses and is obsessed with dressing them up. There was a whole weird chapter dedicated to how obsessed she was about measuring their sizes and trying to find the right fabric to make the dresses because the longer the body stays in her basement, the more decomposed they get. So she needed a clothe that would fit them at any size.

I smiled broadly and extracted it from the shelf with both hands. The more I stared at the caption of the book, the more I thought of A. J. Baby. “The Art of Seduction by Robert Greene”, I whispered as I handed the book to the shop keeper absent-mindedly. “I’ll give you Four Thousand Naira for the 2009 Guinness Book of World Records, One Thousand Seven Hundred Naira for the novel and Two Thousand Naira for The Art of Seduction. We haggled for a while, and I turned to leave the shop and the shop keeper, so he could keep his books to himself. I stepped out of the book shop and walked two steps from the entrance, when he rushed towards me pleading.

Wouldn't that mean he had a kid somewhere? And the skeletons just keep growing. The first compartment is filled with files, cheque books, pens, notepads and other boring stuff. I close it and pull open the next one, and I freeze for a few seconds, red creeping to my cheeks, and my anger temporarily forgotten. There's a book with a very vivid image of what looks to be an orgy on it. Written in bold is the title, The Kama Sutra. There are several different notes attached inside, and as I push it aside, I falls out.

What price would the Book of Whispers extract from us? With measured steps, we approached the pedestal, our gazes locked on the ancient tome. As I reached out to touch its weathered pages, a surge of energy coursed through my fingertips, sending a jolt of anticipation through my veins. "The Book of Whispers holds the answers you seek," a disembodied voice echoed through the grove, its tone both soothing and enigmatic. "But to unlock its secrets, you must be willing to sacrifice a part of yourselves."

With a gentle pull, Joseph selected a dusty tome, feeling the weight of its untold stories in his hands. The book, like a relic from a bygone era, held the promise of forgotten wisdom. Before delving into its contents, Joseph decided to liberate it from its dusty shroud. A well placed exhale expelled a cloud of dust, and, in response, Joseph couldn't stifle a sneeze that reverberated through the room. "Oh my, it's so dusty, probably never been cleaned," he muttered to himself, a wry smile playing on his lips. The intentional neglect of this corner was a deliberate choice, a testament to the charm of the untouched and the allure of secrets waiting to be unraveled.

“I’ll ring these up and bill Master McCabe.” “Oh, that’s not necessary. I can afford a couple of books myself.” Hana tried to stop Finch, following him to the register. “So…did we stop here for Hana to get her ancient book fix? And oo those look interesting. You’re sharing.” Pam asked, leaning on the counter to see what books Hana was getting. “This book itself is two hundred dollars.” Finch held up the first edition of Jannot: A French Rabbit by Mireille Marokvia. “And this one is five hundred twenty-five.” He held up the copy of The Birth, life, and Acts of King Arthur by Thomas Malory.