Long Short Story Novels & Stories

“One drink. And you stay close to me. No wandering off.” Relief flooded through me as well as something much more dangerous than that. “Thank you.” I’d told my best friend I was exploring for the night. I was supposed to give her the details after I was back, but how could I tell her I met her father at a BDSM club and told him to show me around?

My narrow waist and small frame slid right into the leftover corner, while Knox climbed in after me and took up almost all the room that was left. He’s built way bigger than me in every direction, and his tattooed arms filled up the window side. I ended up pressed flat against the door, my thighs jammed right against his because there was literally nowhere else for them to go. I’ve always been small, and I end up looking almost like a femboy without even trying. My waist dips in, and my ass rounds out under pretty much any pair of shorts I pull on. Guys at school have been staring at me since last year. They watch my hips when I walk down the hallway, and they always find stupid excuses to s

BEFORE YOU READ Nobody is coming to save you. Themes: Forced Proximity, Snowed In, Size Difference, Breeding Kink. This story features a possessive, reclusive hero who hasn't seen a woman in years. Expect primal play, rough sex, and intense possessiveness. (***) Gabrielle

Amanda sat in her small apartment in Surulere after another long, boring day at the office. Twenty-four years old, with a tight athletic body from years of gym work — perky C-cup tits, a tiny waist that curved out into a fat, juicy ass that made men stare. She was tired. Tired of vanilla boyfriends who lasted five minutes and called it romance. She wanted to be used. Broken. Turned into something less than a person.

The lecture hall was still buzzing with chatter as I gathered my books after the final class of the day. I was wearing one of my favorite outfits — a short, pleated skirt that showed off my long legs and a tight white blouse that hugged my full breasts, the top two buttons left undone so just a hint of cleavage peeked out. The bruise on my left nipple had faded to a faint mark, but every time the fabric brushed against it I remembered Daddy’s mouth and fingers claiming that same spot.

“I can see you a lot better this way. So, why can’t you sleep?” I positioned my phone on the stand near my lamp, holding myself on my side. “I hate storms like this. Always have.” Just as I said that, a crack of lightning shot blue across my window, making me squeal. “Sorry. Storms make me jumpy. I’m not used to being alone like this during one.” “I’m sure. You can talk to me for as long as you’d like. I’m just up preparing for a case.” “Oh? Well, get some rest. I won’t disturb you.”

I set down my pen. It felt complete. Hope peeked over my shoulder. "That's all?" I laughed. "Sometimes the shortest stories carry the longest journeys." She considered that. Then nodded. "I like it." The Lantern of Beginnings shimmered. One tiny light floated from its crystal and settled gently onto the final page of my journal. The ink glowed softly. Then faded. The words remained. Permanent. As though the story itself had approved. A warm breeze swept across the valley. The flame on the pedestal danced gently.

But the promise dissolved the moment the sun went down and Marcus’s car pulled into our driveway again. My name is Lena, and at twenty-one I was supposed to be focused on finishing my final year of university, hanging out with friends, dating boys my own age. Instead, I was becoming a ghost in my own house—silent, watchful, consumed by the secret burning between my thighs every single night.

Do not continue out of curiosity or because you feel obligated to finish what you started. This is smut. Explicit. Unapologetic. Fictional. I am not encouraging, endorsing, or normalizing any of the acts depicted. They exist only on the page. If you choose to continue, do so with full awareness that this is fiction—and nothing more. — Kiss K ****** A Bumpy Ride Alexia’s POV “Fuuuuck… Ahhh!”