Long Story Short Novels & Stories

“No curse words, please, Sergio.” Sergio continued as if he hadn't been interrupted. “— that blind snail should go back to carting!” he fumed hotly. “Driving like a man scared to touch his controls. My eighty-eight year old abuela can drive faster than that pequeno mierda—” The interviewer swiftly cut him off. “Thank you, Sergio.” “I better not see him anywhere near me.” “I'm sure Lucas would do his best to avoid you, Sergio. Leo, congratulations on your seventh consecutive win. Take us through the process of how you're feeling right now.”

Story Note: “Room for One More” is a standalone short from my erotic collectiona mix of intense, sensual, and sometimes forbidden stories that explore the raw edges of desire. Each story introduces new characters, new fantasies, and unapologetically explicit encounters. This particular tale features a taboo dynamic between step-siblings, told with heat, dominance, and no holding back. Reader discretion is advised. *************************************************

She says. She quickly tells me what happened at the shop while I take notes and ask questions as she goes on. When our food is brought to the table, we're just finishing up. The special that Sherri ordered is a large plate of spaghetti and meatballs for us to share. When I look at her in question, she smiles and picks up a fork. "Haven't you ever seen Lady and the Tramp? Start eating, and let's see what happens." Okay, I'm game, but this better end like the movie with my lips on hers.

“ so do I get answers for free on tests or just mind blowing sex?” “ if you deserve the first you get it” “Wanna do that again tomorrow at my office?” He asked laughing” “ what if we get caught” “ I’ll find a way to turn it to a threesome” “ what if it’s miss headlestone” referring to our fat, weird shaped dean ,very strict dean “ yeah I’ll rather get fired” We laughed and fell asleep soon

There would be nothing left but emptiness. After that, my father never showed up again. One day, Little Zoe came home carrying a letter and a cake. My mother showed me the letter. It contained the address of the house my father had promised, along with a bank card that had two hundred million dollars in it. We did not move there. We never touched a single cent of that money. The following winter, I saw news from Harbor City on television. Rowan Xanders, a prominent entrepreneur, had died at the age of twenty-nine from an old injury.

I tried to tell him as he lifted my skirt up, shifting my thong to one side. "Marcus could walk in at any..." The words died in my throat as his tip nudged at my entrance. I bit down hard on my lips, anticipating the moment he would slam into me. "Please." I begged, after seeing as he was taking his sweet time, coating his tip with my wetness. "Fuggggh!" I quickly closed my mouth as he slammed hard into me. My hand immediately gripped the edges of the counter for support, he pulled out, leaving just his tip in me before slamming right back.

Chapter 1: The Hidden View My name is Lena, and I’m twenty-one years old. For the last three months, I’ve been carrying a secret that burns hotter than anything I’ve ever felt. It started innocently enough—or at least that’s what I tell myself when the shame tries to creep in. Mom had been dating Marcus for almost a year. He was everything she’d described in her giddy late-night phone calls with her friends: tall, thirty-eight, with the kind of broad-shouldered, athletic build that came from years of playing rugby and working construction management. Dark hair with just the faintest hints of silver at the temples, deep brown eyes that seemed to see right through you, and a low, rumbling voic

“I told you, I won’t force you.” “But we must, I mean we can’t fake the-” “We’ll mark each other. It'll be enough to sustain our story. I know how you feel about it, but the mark will fade away eventually. We'll renew it once in a while.” By the end of this talk, he was only in his underwear. A small whimper escaped my mouth causing me to slap a hand over it. His laugh filled the room. Despite the turmoil of emotions that were ravaging my mind, I couldn’t deny the fact that his body was nothing less than perfect.

Suit pouted childishly at Anderson, and continued, “Do we have a deal, Mr. Anderson?” Anderson stared back and forth between Suit and the scroll. His mind was racing. The contract sounded simple enough. Straightforward, but he did not understand. ‘What did he mean by survive ten stories? Did he not say I was going to tell a story? What does survive the story mean?’ Question after question popped up into his head. He could not help himself. He had no idea exactly what it meant, but one thing was for certain; He would not move forward if he did nothing but constantly question the situation.