Lewd Notebook Novels & Stories

But relaxation wasn't what I had in mind. I stood up and walked over to the bookshelf, running my fingers along the spines of the books until I found what I was looking for. The worn leather-bound volume felt heavy in my hands as I carried it over to the coffee table and opened it to the marked page. The intricate illustrations of whips, chains, and other BDSM paraphernalia made my pulse quicken with anticipation.

Leo had spent the entire day swimming in the pool, and no matter how much sunscreen Willow applied, he’d gotten sun burnt anyway from the hot California sun. Picking up the picture, I sat down on Willow’s bed. This was all she had, I realized. All the family photo albums were back at my house, in the attic, collecting dust. She’d left in such a hurry; she hadn’t taken any of the precious pictures with her, just this one. Sadly, I placed the picture back on the bedside stand and opened her bedside drawer. Inside was a notebook. Pulling it out, I saw that it was full of perfume recipes, at least, I gathered that’s what they were given the ingredients and descriptions.

A massive desk positioned like a throne. Control, curated down to the inch. I move straight for the desk, opening drawers, scanning quickly. Most of it is junk—financial records, correspondence, maps that lead nowhere now that he’s dead. Then I find the false bottom. It’s subtle. A slight resistance where there shouldn’t be one. I pry it open. Inside is a notebook. Not leather-bound. Not elegant. Cheap. Black cover. The corners are bent. The pages warped slightly like they’ve been handled too often by shaking hands.

He, awake, watched. Pedro hadn't slept. Instead, he had spent the night memorizing every detail of her: the firm breasts, the nipples darkened by the heat of his tongue, the soft belly, the faint scar beneath her left rib, the way her legs fit with his like the pages of a well-bound book. And then, he saw it. On the side table, the black notebook she used. Open. The last pages hastily scribbled. Pedro stretched his arm, carefully picked it up, and read.

An officer approached the detective with a sealed evidence bag. “Sir, we found this beneath the body.” Mensah took it. Inside was a small black notebook. He opened it carefully. Most of the pages contained dates, account numbers, and lists of names. Then he reached the final page. His expression changed. Adrian stepped forward. “What is it?” Mensah turned the notebook around. Three names had been written in red ink. ALEXANDER BLACKWOOD. ADRIAN BLACKWOOD. ELENA VALE. Beneath them was a sentence.

“Where did you find that?” “Under this loose wooden panel.” I moved closer and took it from her. The notebook was worn, and several pages had become loose. I opened it carefully. Most of the entries were ordinary calculations, but some pages contained dates, account numbers, and initials. My heart began beating faster. “These numbers look familiar.” I took out my phone and opened the photographs I had saved from the sealed envelope. The account numbers matched. “Roman.” He immediately walked over. “What is it?” I showed him the notebook.

She paused, then added one more line at the bottom. Black notebook. Behind the loose panel in the closet. Jude read it over her shoulder, and one eyebrow rose. "A hidden notebook?" "Harrison would burn it if he found it," Violet said simply. "It has the original LZ-7 notes. My notes." Something flickered across Jude's face, and he folded the receipt carefully and tucked it into his pocket. "Consider it done." "Jude, it's behind a panel. How exactly are your people supposed to…"

I stepped closer, my legs moving without my permission. The images were printed on glossy paper, pinned to a corkboard like a detective's case file. Pictures of me in the backyard, laughing at something on my phone. Pictures of me in the kitchen, reaching for a glass on the top shelf, my shirt riding up to expose a strip of bare skin. Pictures of me sleeping, my lips parted, my hair fanned out on the pillow. He'd been watching me for years. My hands trembled as I reached for the notebook lying open on the workbench. It was leather-bound, well-worn, the pages yellowed with use. The handwriting inside was neat, precise.

The voice remained calm. "Soon." "I've heard 'soon' before." "This time we mean it." The call ended. Lily remained motionless. For the first time in years... She wasn't planning her next move. She was waiting for someone else's. She hated that feeling. That evening, Noah spread Daniel Harris's notebooks across his dining table. Most were ordinary work records. Until he reached the final notebook. Several pages had been torn out. Not recently. Years ago. The remaining pages contained only dates and short observations.

The lock was turned halfway, caught on the inner strike plate, leaving the drawer open by two full inches. Sienna held her breath, staring into the dark gap inside the drawer. A faint scent of smoke and burnt leather drifted up from the shadows. Resting inside, right beneath a stack of harbor manifests, lay a battered black leather notebook with singed edges, its cover stamped in faded ink with the official seal of Sector Four.