Historical Romance Novels With Steamy Love Scenes Novels & Stories

“Oh my god… fuck… mmm, yes… that feels so good…” He rose higher, mouth moving to her breasts. He licked one nipple in slow, wet circles, then the other, then spat onto the left peak. Warm saliva ran down the soft curve of her breast. He licked it off slowly, sucked the nipple deep into his mouth until she whimpered, and spat again, coating both nipples until they shone under the library lights. Maya’s head fell back. Soft, broken moans kept spilling out of her without restraint. “Ah… ah… Liam… that feels so dirty… mmm—don’t stop… please…”

And on top of that, we kissed and had sex. Sex! I was still a virgin in real life. What made me dream of Lorenzo, of all men, to be my lover? This wasn’t right. And I didn’t feel right. In fact, I was still hot and sweaty. Just the thought of him had me thinking about my dream again. I touched my lips, remembering his hard lips pressed on mine, and my heart rapidly increased in speed again. I pulled the blanket off, my head going dizzy. But that still didn’t help alleviate my symptom. I was hot and bothered.

The first rays of morning sun filtered through the heavy curtains, casting a warm glow over the wrecked bedroom. I stirred against Lorenzo’s broad chest, my body heavy with exhaustion yet already humming with the familiar, insidious pull of the heat. It had only been a brief reprieve—maybe two or three hours of fitful sleep—but the fire was returning, licking at my veins and making my core clench with fresh, empty need. Slick had already begun to seep again, coating my thighs and the sheets beneath us. I whimpered softly, pressing closer to the alpha’s solid warmth, inhaling his scent like it was oxygen.

Elena, at 32, with her curvaceous figure, sharp green eyes, and cascading auburn hair, had always prided herself on being the perfect wife: supportive, sexy, and fiercely loyal. Yet, the spark in their marriage had faded, replaced by routine and unspoken resentments. Her fingers hesitated over the keyboard before diving into his email inbox. What she found hit her like a freight train. Not just one affair, but a meticulously constructed double life spanning three years. Emails from Lila Reynolds, his sultry blonde assistant, detailed everything: passionate weekends in luxury hotels, hidden bank accounts funding her lavish lifestyle, even discussions about leaving Elena for a fresh start. Pho

She could hear her heartbeat so loudly that she thought it might burst out of her chest. Slowly, her eyes fluttered shut as everything else faded. The only thing she could feel was him -his breath on her skin, the way his heart was racing, almost as fast as hers, the way his hand slipped down her back, and how the hairs on her arms stood on end at his touch. He smelled like Cardamom and Lavender. Intoxicating, that she just wanted to let him to anything he wanted to her. She wanted to push him away. She really did. But her body wouldn’t listen, instead of pushing him away, she found her lips parting on their own and leaning into him.

It was a promise to love and protect, to cherish and nurture the flame that burned brightly in our hearts. A surge of passion and desire ignited between us. The air crackled with an electric energy, and I could feel the intensity building as our lips drew closer. Unable to resist the magnetic pull, our mouths met in a searing, passionate kiss. It was a union of souls, a melding of two hearts that beat as one. Our tongues danced in a passionate rhythm, exploring the depths of each other's desires. He bit my lips and sucked my blood from them, grabbing my hair.

It belongs to him, but I’m not telling him that. Colin rips my shirt off without ever breaking our kiss. His pajama pants fight to keep his erection caged when he rubs it against my lace-covered core. The tingles soak the lace in need. Colin pulls away from me, his hazel eyes swirling with gold. I can only guess his wolf is present to. The dance of colors is mesmerizing. His eyes never leave mine as he flicks the lace underwear off my body. He takes a deep breath. The smell of my desire turns his eyes black.

I am as exciting and predictable as a loaf of sliced white bread. Anyway, back to my story. The traffic started moving, and off he went, leaving behind the lingering scent of tobacco. At work, I had trouble concentrating, and spent most of the day creating racy vignettes in my head with us as the feature characters. Let's be honest; I have a very vivid imagination. The closest I've been to a hot steamy encounter is courtesy of the pages of my endless supply of paperback romance novels. I'm not the kind of girl that attracts hot, sexy men. In fact, I've been called an ice queen by more than one guy. But when I'm in the middle of one of my books, I am sensual, daring, sarcastically humorous, a

It's either history, military, or supernatural romances. I've never understood why so many people preferred such kinds of novels and genres all that much. Though, I meant that for the latter part. They're basically the same every single time. An average lady meets one sexy, handsome, extraordinary man, or two hot males battle over her, and there's usually some ridiculous drama that brings her further and deeper together with the men, and then she has to choose the obvious decision. Everyone had predicted her decision since the very beginning of the chapter. "And they're usually sequels or fantasy epics," I mumbled to myself.

[Alright everyone, I am officially putting my morals on hold. Forget the original couple. From now on, if there is anything steamy, I am consuming it. No crumbs left behind.] [I don't like pure romance stories! Give me something special!] [HAHAHAHA! What are you talking about?!] [Great! It's a hot couple! We're saved!] [How did the plot turn out like this? Whatever! I'm going to enjoy it first!] The next morning, I stared at the mirror with two dark circles and swollen lips.