Guilty Pleasures Novels & Stories

Eager to experience the thrill of the seven rooms designed after the seven deadly sins while also enjoying the alcohol and music on the dancefloor. I may be biased, but I always believed Gluttony to be the best room out of the seven, next to Lust and Greed, who almost entertained the same amount of guests as Gluttony did. It was funny watching all the clueless souls walk around the club damning themselves even further and making deals with without realizing the actual weight those deals held over them.

The only thing that I know about her so far is her name. Tamara POV Having this sex god man sitting next to me was overwhelming. There was something about him that loved how close he was to me. I think it was the way he looks at me that has me a nervous wreck. This is different behavior for me as I am used to people treating me like shit every chance they get. The professor walks in with a grim look on his face.

Book 2 Guilty Pleasure #2 Chapter One The bass of the music pulsed through the floor of Club Noire, the most exclusive, and notorious club in the city. Neon lights flashed like heartbeats in the dark, slow and sultry, coating every surface in red and violet, the air thick with sweat, alcohol, and something darker, something sinful. This was not the kind of club where girls like her were meant to be. “Elena, come on!” Avonlea shrieked over the music, tugging her arm with the force of a hurricane. “This is the real deal! Look at this place!”

Pleasure mixed with the heavy guilt in my belly, the secret pregnancy making every sensation lower my swollen tits bouncing with each slam. I rocked back against him clawing at his back. “Harder Ben. Fuck me like you own this cunt. I’ve been aching for it since that night.” My orgasm built fast from the risk and the filth of it all, my body shaking as he reached between us rubbing my clit rough. Waves of heat crashed over me and I came hard clenching around his cock soaking him while tears pricked my eyes from the mix of ecstasy and shame. “Shit I’m close,” he grunted, speeding up his hips stuttering. “Gonna cum inside this pregnant pussy again. Take every drop baby.”

She slipped past her friend, eager to soak in a hot bath and watch the tape for Lil's reaction when checking in on a near naked Ron. Now alone, Pam didn't need to divert her gaze, yet quickly noted Ron had rolled over onto his side, extinguishing the previous sexy image of his sheet draped genitals. As she slipped into the moderately comfortable pull-out bed, she couldn't deny her disappointment in being deprived of an unfettered vision of Ron, perhaps by now with yet another erection, lying on his back. She also couldn't prevent a sizeable pang of guilt from wedging into her consciousness, for being half her age, and her daughter's boyfriend, the taboo nature of these recurring thoughts abo

“That is it, he praised between grunts. Milk my cock. Show me how bad you need your stepdad’s dick.” My own cock bounced untouched, leaking everywhere. The angle hit perfect every time. I felt him swell inside me, getting closer. My thighs burned. My heart hammered so loud I worried Mom might hear from down the hall. Guilt twisted sharp in my chest but it only made everything hotter. Wrong. Filthy and addictive. Christopher’s grip tightened. He fucked up into me harder, losing rhythm. I clenched around him, trying to pull him deeper. “Fuck, gonna fill you up, he snarled.”

The air in the gallery tasted of champagne, money, and barely concealed hunger. White walls glowed under pinpoint spotlights that carved every curve and shadow from Victor Kane’s photographs into something almost obscene. Critics circled like elegant vultures, murmuring approval at the technical mastery while their eyes betrayed the real reason they had come: to drink in the nakedness blown up to life-size, to pretend they were above it.

he growled, his eyes holding mine. You taste so good, little woman. I didn’t need a translation. The sinful promise in his tone was clear. And with it, crashing down in the wake of that physical high, came the violent tide guilt, shame, a searing embarrassment that burned through the aftermath of pleasure. “I’m baaackkk!” Sophia’s sing-song voice floated from the house, innocent and piercing as a shard of glass.

I reclined back, solely in my underwear now. I was using my 'I'm disappointed in you' voice. Yes, I was 'guilting' a girl into having sex. Duh. I would never coerce a woman, or take one not in her right mind – that's using forces beyond her control. Guilt? Guilt has a foundation squarely in a woman's mind, just like humor, romance, common interests (feigned or not) and horniness. Girls can control guilt just like any other psychological trigger. It is called being shameless and I ought to know.