Lust Zone Novels & Stories

The brown leather looked good on her. A small, sharp pang of lust struck me like a bolt of lightning. A pulse that went directly to my cock. No. Not now. I palmed at myself, too tired to do anything about it. Instead, I sat back on my chaise lounge, legs parted. A groan slipped from my lips as I stretched, settling against it. Evelyn was in my sights, so I would know when she awoke. With one arm tucked back behind my head, sleep found me.

Leon smirks as if he has won the lottery in his hand. Finally, the two of them set off to Lova Beach. A beautiful seashore located on the border between the territories of Rossie and Rocky. Not a single idea had crossed Lesel's mind that Leon would deceive her and plan to escape amid this honeymoon bliss. Leon's planned honeymoon was just a deception. Lesel had no idea at all. "Please let me guard you, Dear. One or two men as a bodyguard is enough. Don't be too crowded. I don't want them to ruin our romantic moment."

I ran my thumb over its slit and felt a few drops of precum gushing out of it. "No more,” he snapped, pushing my hand away before moving down my body and guiding his cock to my entrance. "This will be fast and furious, babe." I nodded, eager for that promise to be fulfilled when a thud echoed through the silence of the room before Louis's head bounced back and then his body collapsed on top of mine. “Louis?” I said confused before I felt something running down my chest, right where his head was, "But what...?" "Come on, Auntie, hurry up."

The fire had long since gone out, leaving the room cold. The sheets lay crumpled on the floor, abandoned in the night. We stayed pressed together, naked, our bodies heavy with fatigue yet restless, aching for more. Every shift of his chest against mine reminded me of the hours we had spent wrapped in one another, consumed by lust and tenderness until neither of us had strength left. His grey-blue eyes met mine in the pale light. I traced a line along his cheekbone and whispered, almost guiltily, "I should take a shower." Instead, my fingers drifted lower, to the faint scar above his heart—the mark I had left him. It was almost fully healed, the bite closed over, yet the imprint remained, a p

I hung up again. Me: I’m in a taxi!! Don’t want everyone to hear my business. Bestie: Why Clandor?? Huh? Was that a typo? Did she mean ‘what Clandor’? As I stared in confusion a follow-up message popped in. Bestie: Kylie, that guy is a hoe.

The four of us turned to face him. “Our Luna is fine. She has no wounds that I can see. There are a few spots where there are some red marks which I have a feeling will turn into bruises.” Dr. Lewiston told us. “I watched her eyes roll back as she dropped like a lead balloon.” I pointed out.

The pain was gone completely. My body relaxed and I could focus on something else rather than pain. Logan’s scent calmed me down, and I was ready to go back to sleep. Logan nuzzled his nose into my neck, placing a small kiss behind my ear. Sparks erupted all over my body and I heard Logan sigh contently. “Your scent is coming back.” he said. “I missed it so much.” I furrowed my eyebrows. What was he talking about? “Yes, wolfsbane is finally flushing out of her system.” the doctor smiled.

When I told Lara about it at work this morning, she insisted we meet and when we did, she held me by my shoulders, shaking me till my vision blurred. “Lara! I am pretty sure that’s considered a crime somewhere.” I snapped, coughing, eyeing her. She sighed, rubbing her forehead. “That’s what you told me to do once I saw you losing your mind over a guy again.” Oh. “But I am not losing my mind over Hosea. I just…” “You were going off about his eyes, his eyes, Regina. The last time it was his tongue.” Ew. Why was I obsessed with Johnson’s tongue?

“Wait… do you smell that?” Clara frowned faintly. “Smell what?” Fallon inhaled again. “Like… something burning?” Elara lifted her head slightly, nose wrinkling. “Probably the kitchen,” she said, uninterested. “It’s a party.” Fallon didn’t look convinced, but she shrugged it off. “Hmm.” Behind the DJ stand, hidden by layers of velvet drapery and decorative lighting, something sparked. A thin wire, stretched too tight, too overloaded. It flickered once. Twice.

My reflection in the mirror looked like a stranger: eyes too wide, lips swollen, faint rope marks still blooming across my ribs like watercolor bruises. Back in the bedroom, the duffel sat unzipped on the luggage rack, contents rearranged with surgical precision—socks folded, laptop centered on the desk, charging cable coiled like a snake. The Leica’s memory card was already in the slot. A new folder glowed on the desktop: PRIVATE – DO NOT DELETE. Inside: 247 raw files from the sunrise shoot, plus one video—timestamped 04:12 a.m., the exact minute I’d stepped naked onto the heated basalt, barefoot and trembling.