Intimacies A Novel Novels & Stories

CHAPTER 01 - Stressed over marriage Author's POV It was the last week of December, acclaimed for the 'Wedding month' as most couples are likely to get married this month. In an enormous opened faultlessly planned room, which was giving the obsessive worker vibes. A young woman remaining close to the counter was making refreshments for her associates. Her lovely earthy-colored hair was falling back, uncovering her delightful side. Her eyes were gleaming, brilliant like the sun. A grin shaped all over her face as she took the cups loaded up with espresso and strolled outward.

“We are Intirmates. Connected body, soul, and spirit to you and only you. And it connected you to us the same.” Her eyes widened. They could feel each other’s pain? When she tensed, he shushed her like a child, his hand reaching up to cup her cheek, wiping away the tear rolling down it. Though he seemed to be in an immense amount of pain, he was doing his best to insure she was comfortable, and that made her fall a little more for the massive man silently stroking her cheek. How was she able to adjust to this difference so quickly? She wondered before his lips pressed to hers again, reminding her of the mind-blowing pleasure she felt earlier. Her spine arched again, making her sensitive brea

decided to dose me and Caleb instead. I never would have expected that sweet, shy boy to be that two-faced. Thinking back on the night made my ears heat up. No wonder this world was based on a smutty novel. But I brought a man home. Travis was probably going to throw me out for good. He had extreme cleanliness standards. The fact that he didn’t kick us out last night was already miraculous. I changed into the most conservative outfit I owned and tiptoed out of my room. Travis was sitting on the couch, expression unreadable. The place was spotless. Caleb was gone.

Before she could say a word, Mike pulled her into his arms. Their lips met in a deep, desperate kiss that overflowed with all the fear, relief, and passion they had been holding back. This time, there was no hesitation, no professional boundaries left to cross. They had left the rules behind in the city. Multiple steamy scenes unfolded through the long night as they gave in to each other completely. The rustic cabin became a sanctuary of heat and intimacy. Mike worshipped Angela’s body with a slow, reverent intensity, his hands tracing every curve, his lips leaving a trail of fire across her skin. They moved together on the large bed, their shadows dancing on the log walls in the firelight.

Later, alone, I sit on the edge of the bed and let the day replay in fragments. The look he gave me. The comment. The way the room tilted when someone decided my body was a bargaining chip, my intimacy a weakness to probe. The realization that nothing about me gets to be neutral anymore, not even what happens behind closed doors. I understand it now. Intimacy didn’t just sharpen leadership. It made it visible. And visibility is currency. I lie back and stare at the ceiling, breath steady, mind clear in a way it hasn’t been for days. There’s no panic in it. No self-reproach.

The heat, the closeness, and the overwhelming intimacy all washed over me, creating a cocoon where nothing else existed but the two of us. His shaft swelled inside my channel, locking me in, and then the warmth of his seed exploded inside me like never before. Damien threw back his head on a groan, exposing the strong column of his neck, and I couldn’t help but lift my head to suck on that delicate flesh as I took in his load, feeling my whole body tremble with the intensity of the release as I too came all over our chests.

Clara Vale lived on the 12th floor of an old, rundown building in downtown São Paulo. At 32, she was the undisputed queen of bestselling erotic romances. Her books sold by the thousands: Fuck Me Until Dawn, where the protagonist was destroyed by a mafioso with a 23-centimeter cock; Fireman’s Dick — the irony of fate hitting hard now — and her most recent one, Emergency Orgasm, which had spent three straight weeks at the top of the charts.

He paused just inside the suite, letting the gas do its work, head tilting slightly as if he were listening for the exact moment we stopped breathing. My lungs screamed for air. I forced myself to breathe through the towel Kingsley pressed to my face. A damp fabric with soap and underneath it, his scent—clean, familiar, maddeningly grounding. The proximity wasn’t gentle. It was a necessity. His chest brushed my shoulder every time he breathed, Our heat mingled. We were boxed in by glass and tile, sharing oxygen, sharing fear. Accidental intimacy. The kind forged by survival, not choice. The mirror showed the shadow shift again. A slow step, then another. The gun lifted, muzzle tracking, pati

Of course, she was not a prude because she was okay with everything but the act of sex in her last relationship. She often wondered if that actually drove Henry to Cathy’s arms but she also knew that it would only drive her crazy if she explored that angle. So she satisfied herself with the idea that she’d successfully kept her legs closed for her future husband. Of course, there was a time for answers. She swore that she would extract all of the information from him when they were both horizontal and clothed. Imogen felt his grip loosen around her. She slowly sat up and pulled the covers to her chest.

When she confesses her love to me, I want it to be because of her own free will. From a distance I can see Carina sexily coming towards me wearing nothing but an underwear and a bra which does nothing to cover her. She is practically naked. I wonder why she even bother wearing this. Her big boobs bouncing. With a slim waist, blonde hair, beautiful face caked with makeup and good height anyone would want to fuck her. I used to fuck her one day or other when Analise was not with me but not anymore because I got my angel at home. I love her and will never cheat on her.