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“Sinful hour” – the title alone had me hooked from the bookstore shelf. I’d been devouring erotic novels like this for months, escaping into worlds of raw passion and unfiltered lust. Today was no different; I was home alone, the house quiet except for the occasional creak of settling wood. No roommates, no interruptions. Perfect.

Suddenly, she convulsed, a hot, frantic squirt hitting his face as she reached a massive climax. She didn't let him recover. She spun around and lowered herself onto him, guided his thick, rigid cock into her. She took him in one slow, soul-crushing movement that made Roman's vision go white. He felt himself slide into her, the tight, wet heat of her walls enveloping him completely. She began to ride him then, her movements fast and shallow. The sound of their bodies meeting was a wet, heavy thud that seemed to vibrate through the bookshelves. Roman's hands found her waist, his fingers bruising her skin as he anchored her to him.

He says, crooking his finger towards her. She moves towards the end of the bed and stands between his feet. His finger loops around the tight strip of her dress, loosening its grip on her shoulder. The silky red fabric falls to the floor in a whisper of silk, leaving her wearing nothing but her nakedness and the moonlight filtering through the windows. Corvina moves in closer to his bare chest. She can feel his cock growing bigger against her hips as she places soft kisses from one of his nipples to another. His skin tastes clean and masculine, with a hint of his expensive cologne.

The heat in his eyes pulled her in before she even said a word. “You couldn’t stay away,” he murmured, pulling her close. Her hands pressed to his chest. “I tried… but I can’t.” His lips crashed onto hers, fierce and hungry. He lifted her onto the couch, his hands already tugging at her dress. Nora gasped as the fabric slid down, leaving her bare beneath his touch. Louis kissed her neck, her chest, moving lower until she was trembling. She arched against him, whispering his name, begging for more. His mouth worked her slowly, tasting her until she cried out, clutching his hair.

My lips pressed softly against her, warm and gentle, just feeling her, sliding over her slit with the softest caresses. She gasped, eyes fluttering shut, but my fingers dug into her firm hips, forcing her to open them again. All my tangled emotions—anger, lust, longing—blazed in my gaze, silently pleading with her to meet my eyes. My lips moved again, stroking, nibbling, softly sucking, exploring every tender curve. A soft hiss left her lips, eyes wide and shimmering. There was a strange fire in her gaze as we stared at each other. I couldn’t place it, but it struck me deeply.

“Taste it.” I leaned forward and closed my lips around his thumb, sucking gently. The salty, creamy flavor mixed with the taste of his skin. His breath hitched visibly. “Jesus, Lena,” he whispered. “You have no idea what that does to me.” By the third course—a seared duck breast with cherry reduction and toasted hazelnuts,the air between us felt electric. His foot had worked its way higher under the table, sliding along my inner thigh. I parted my legs slightly without thinking, letting him in. The rough pad of his foot pressed against the damp heat of my panties, rubbing in slow, maddening circles.

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The novel lay open under her hands-wet, crumpled, dog‑eared. He looked at it, then at her. He pulled the book free with one hand, and his own wet fingers brushed between her thighs again, smart with urgency. "One more time?" he rasped. Claire stared at him-ache behind her eyes, voice hoarse. "Yes," she finally breathed. "One more time." He kissed her, deep and rough. Closed the book with his other hand-cover snapping shut with authority. She rode him one more time, skin slick, body trembling, pulses crashing as she came again-slow, powerful, echoing under the hush of books. Rowan groaned and came with her, feeding her tight until he fell forward, forearm over her back, his breath ragged.