Guilty Pleasure Books Novels & Stories

I replied. "Business. Define businesses Miss Alessandro?" He wanted me to say it. He wanted to know that I had no problem or issue with it. That even though he was what he was I wouldn't see him differently. And I didn't. "Substances trafficking, arms trade, interference with the Italian Mafia. And lastly and the most disturbing of them all, ownership of plenty sex shops and pleasure houses." I didn't breath until I stopped talking. "Pleasure houses?" He laughed.

“I won’t push. But if he breaks your heart, I’m going to key his car.” “Duly noted.” Later that evening, the two girls lay in Elena’s bedroom, music playing softly from her Bluetooth speaker. Avonlea scrolled through memes on her phone while Elena stared at the ceiling, fingers laced over her stomach. “Do you think people ever really stop feeling guilty?” Elena asked suddenly. Avonlea looked up. “Guilty about what?” “Things they want. Things they shouldn’t want.” There was a pause. “I think guilt just means you care,” Avonlea said finally. “It means you’re not a sociopath.”

From stolen glances in crowded rooms to the slow, agonizing burn of secret encounters, these stories are crafted to push every boundary and satisfy your deepest, most primal cravings. Whether it’s the thrill of the forbidden, the mastery of complete surrender, or the electrifying friction of skin on skin, these pages are dripping with raw, unadulterated pleasure. This isn’t just a collection; it’s an invitation to indulge in the kind of pleasure that leaves you breathless, shaking, and begging for more. If you’ve ever hungered for a taste of what you shouldn’t have, welcome home. Lean in close, let the tension coil, and prepare to be thoroughly, unapologetically undone.

The Club had used the chaos to pull me back in. Now I was being sent to their most exclusive and feared facility: The Pleasure Prison, a private island resort disguised as a high-security rehabilitation center for the ultra-wealthy. In reality, it was a luxurious prison where the Club’s most valuable toys were kept, trained, and broken under the guise of “therapy.” Two guards in black uniforms met me on the tarmac. They didn’t speak as they removed my coat, leaving me completely naked except for the collar. The cool island breeze brushed against my bare skin, making my nipples harden instantly.

Rico has spent months resisting the urge to ruin his personal assistant. Sweet, untouched, and completely off-limits—until now. Seeing her in his club, bathed in red light, eyes wide as she takes in the depravity around her, is the final straw. She doesn’t have to speak; he can see it in her face, in the way her breath catches. She’s curious. Tempted. Desperate for someone to show her just how good sin can feel. And he’s done pretending it won’t be him.

I was needy for Declan. I lay there, staring up at the swirling patterns on the ceiling, revelling in the feel of Declan gazing over my nakedness. I was naked… he was my mate; I was allowed to be naked. I wanted to give him pleasure and make him happy. So why was there a little guilt in my skull about Deacon? I wasn’t cheating on Deacon was I? No, no, he knows this is going to happen, as does Dec when I’m with Deacon. This is how our situation works.

I pleaded. My voice cracked. Earlier today, I thought I was brave and daring, but look at me now.. pitiful. All my bravery and determination was shut in the bar behind me. What was I thinking? That I could waltz into a place like this and find the so-called experience I was seeking because that's what I wanted? All the romance books I've read were stuffed into my head and that's part of what led me into this. I never thought this type of thing would happen. I needed to be enlightened about things I was ignorant about and now look at where it landed me to.

“I’m telling you, staring at that thing all the time won’t make your crush text you back.” “Mom! That’s so rude! I don’t even have a crush,” Dasha snapped, clearly annoyed and a little embarrassed. “I’m just reading stories on Kindle!” “Kindle? Isn’t that the app where all those steamy, raunchy novels are? The ones that make Fifty Shades look like a church sermon?” Aunt Lori said, her tone dripping with suspicion. “Mom! That’s not true!” Dasha protested, blushing as she stabbed at her scrambled eggs. “Kindle is for all kinds of stories, okay? And not all of them are… you know, like that.”

His badge presses cold against my bare chest, the metal biting into my skin with every thrust, and the scratch of his uniform fabric against my inner thighs is rough and textured and adding a layer of sensation that’s making me lose my mind. He fucks me against the bookshelf with a rhythm that’s controlled.Deep, measured strokes that drag the ridge of his cock against my g-spot on every pass. Books topple around us with every thrust — falling from shelves on both sides. The absurdity of being fucked senseless while books rain down around me is so ridiculous that a laugh bubbles up from my chest and turns into a moan halfway out. He drops his mouth back to my neck. Sucks the skin below my ear

Dark Temptations – Men who don’t just touch… they claim. Pleasure & Power – Games where surrender is as dangerous as resistance. BDSM & Forbidden Kinks – Chains, blindfolds, rules… and the wicked thrill of breaking them. Primal Possession – Being chased, caught, and taken until you can’t breathe without wanting more. Obsession That Burns – Love that feels like fire, beautiful, consuming, impossible to escape. This is not for the faint or the shy. It will touch you in places no one else dares, leave you burning, and keep you wanting long after the last page.