Libro Lujuria Novels & Stories

He was rock hard. "Hubby..." I mumbled, voice coming out small. He breathed out heavy. "This is so fucked." His hand stayed put though. "I want you so bad beyond comprehension." That hit me. Sammy is clouded with jealousy mixed with pleasure. He spun me around quick and shoved me back against the mirror. The glass was cold on my skin. Sammy bent me in. One hand went straight down my boxer and grabbed my cock. "Damn," he muttered, stroking slow. "You're already hard. Look at that."

"Lots and lots of books." "Ah, you must have found the hidden p**n section of the library," Laz jokes as he sits down next to us. "One of the previous Legacies had a part-time job writing erotica. She didn't need the money, she just liked writing naughty things and knowing her words were making people orgasm around the world." My cheeks are burning. It is one thing talking about these things to Nyx, but sometimes I forget that there are seven other people at this table with us and that some of them might be listening in.

“Are libertines not more accepted now?” “If they’re men,” said Loretta, her tone sour. “It wasn’t like men weren’t sex-obsessed before becoming incubi. Now they just have an excuse to badger women for it. If women need it too, then all the more reason to look down on them. We can’t bear their children, so what use are we to them, but adornments or holes? It’s all I am to Mr. Pervis, I know that much. Holes . . . maybe a bloody scratching post.” She took another swig, her eyes growing moist. “But at least he keeps me around. And he don’t feed on no one else. And he don’t act embarrassed of me, neither. I should be grateful. It’s better than I deserve.”

Lucian sat across from me, posture straight and controlled like always, but his eyes lingered on my legs a second longer than they should have. “Nora,” he replied, that deep steady tone sending another pulse straight to my clit. “Tell me exactly how it felt when you touched yourself. No holding back. This is where the real work starts.” I bit my lip and shifted again, feeling my soaked panties stick to me. Fuck, his calm way of demanding the dirty details is making me throb worse than my ex ever did.

Hot and exciting secrets. She lay in bed later. She touched herself where he had touched her. It felt good but not the same. She wanted his hands again. His mouth. His body. Sleep came slowly. Dreams filled with Vicky and hidden library corners.

The old university library smelled of aged paper and secrets. It was past eleven when I slipped between the tall shelves in the restricted section, heart racing. No one was supposed to be here this late, but I couldn’t resist. My fingers trembled as I pulled out a worn leather book titled Forbidden Desires of the Victorian Age. The pages held explicit stories that made my cheeks burn and my body ache.

‎Liliana's POV ‎"God, your cunt smells like pure sex, Liliana," Joel growled as he dipped two of his fingers inside my pussy hole. "Fuck, my little slut pussy is already throbbing and soaked." ‎"Get ready, baby, I'm going to eat your sloppy hole until you're squirting all over my face. Then I'm gonna fuck your wet cunt with my monster cock till we both cum screaming." ‎"Yes... please...eat me up... fuck me... I need it badly... Please," I purred as I spread my thighs more open.

He didn’t even bother to wonder that taking away Andrea from his top rank henchman could open some untreated wounds. Power should only be exercised by sober heads. Laude had fallen to the temptation of intoxication and his sexual appetite that should have been cured long before. They say that men with tremendous sexual drive can either turn that energy into achievement or atrocity. Seemed like he embraced both and the latter resulted in his impending downfall.

He pressed harder, feeling how the wetness had already spread. “Answer me,” he said, voice low and amused. “Or I’ll make you come right here in front of everyone.” “Yes,” I whispered, barely moving my lips. “Yes what?” “Yes… I got wet thinking about you.” His fingers pushed the thin material of my panties aside. Two of them slid through my folds, gathering the slick that had already started to drip. “Greedy little cunt,” he muttered. “Already this messy and I haven’t even properly touched you yet.”

I had been wet since the afternoon, when the memory of his voice and the stretch of him and the taste of us on my tongue had followed me through every ordinary task. I selected a different manuscript this time—an early 17th-century bestiary, fragile and beautifully illuminated—and opened it carefully in the center of the table. Then I stepped out of my shoes, placed my hands on the wood, and bent over exactly as he had left me the night before. The position lifted the back of my skirt. The air moved across my exposed cunt and the backs of my thighs. I could feel how slick I already was. I waited. At 12:03 a.m. the outer door opened and closed. Familiar footsteps crossed the room. The deadbol