Novel Of Sensation Novels & Stories

Anticipation for each night strong. The annual library gala approached. Tension high. He stayed late helping. Passion overtook. In head librarian office. Door locked. "Need you now." Pressed to desk. Entered swift. "Tight heat." Pounded. "Hard." Climax fast. Full night after guests left. All sections. Stacks, desks, floors. "Take everything." Multiple rounds. "Relive favorites." Twist came after intense round. "Bestselling erotic novelist. Using you as inspiration."

Spread my palm across its surface. The language rose before I even opened it. It was never words on the tongue first. It was sensation. A familiar ache that slid under skin and promised compliance. I let it build. Letting its darkness curl obediently along my wrist. “Yield.” The book opened without touch, that was new and I would be proud, but this was not the time. The pages ruffled as if wind lived only inside them. Ink stirred and the symbols woke.

I wanted to feel him, filthy as that sounded. A tiny graze wouldn't hurt anyone. Just a light brush to feel those unfamiliar sensations he gave me even for a split-second. I had a deep craving for something I didn't know, an itch for sensations I only ever read as words on pages. I hesitantly stretched out my hand, my lips slightly parted. I could almost feel it, the feeling I yearned to feel, his manly scent flooding my nostrils, seducing every cell in my intimacy-starved body.

I can't explain it. While we savor each other's blood, I feel a burning sensation in my right wrist... It burns... It burns a lot, but I feel so light that I don't pay much attention to it, allowing myself to simply enjoy the pleasure. After a few moments savoring these divine sensations. I slide off your lap and almost fall to the floor because my legs are weak. I dare say they're even weaker than jelly. Nicollas notices and carries me in his arms, bridal style, taking me to the bedroom. When we reach the bathroom door, I open it, and Nicollas, with me in his arms, passes through it.

My fingers had almost been sucked inside. Then Maxine mounted me and slid me inside her with her hand. She began a slow rotation of her hips once she had me deep inside. Maxine was riding atop me, looking like a soft, massive mushroom that had silently poked its face up through the dead leaves on the ground and opened under the cover of night's wings. Her vagina felt warm and cold at the same time. It tried to envelop me, to draw me in while also pressing me out. My erection grew bigger and stronger. I felt like I was about to burst. It was the strangest sensation, something more than just sexual pleasure. It felt as if something within her, something unique within her, was slowly working it

Isla felt a dizzying sense of pleasure, her senses overwhelmed by the intensity of his touch. Isla closed her eyes, completely overwhelmed by the pleasure coursing through her. The sensations were a symphony of delight, a crescendo of sensations that threatened to consume her. Every touch, every movement, was a masterpiece, a testament to Vincent's expertise. She arched against him, her body trembling with the intensity of the pleasure, her mind a whirlwind of sensations.

I didn't want to reveal much about myself, but apparently I was doing it unconsciously, and he was too smart to miss any important details. And I wasn't lying. I had gone there just to bring out this sensual and inconsequential side that I hoped to put into words in my new novel. And I was having a hard time remembering every feeling or every movement we made on our first night of pleasure, because I still had to detail it as much as I could so that people could also put themselves in the place of the protagonist. I wanted to make sure that the narration of that scene could influence other people to want to surrender that way if they ever had the opportunity. And even if the plan was always

For the first time, Cathedra had someone who didn't cringe every time she opened her mouth to speak. So this is what having a friend feels like, huh? Cathedra thought to herself. One lunch break, while waiting for Diane underneath the tree, Cathedra was scribbling a draft of her first novel in her notebook. The novel contained the scenes she saw in the storybook, back in her kindergarten days. Since that day at kindergarten, she didn't tell anyone what she saw in the storybooks anymore. The thought of seeing things that other people couldn't still terrified her but she tried hard not to think about it by avoiding any book she can see other than school books and textbooks.

Go. Devour him. The words twirled in my head and crumbled my other thoughts. I pressed the shirt to my nose. The lavender scent calmed my nerves. The aroma trickled through my body, drawing more heat. The pheromone lessened. The odor was almost gone. I didn’t trust myself if it went away. This shirt was the reason I remained on this couch. My body and mind screamed the same thing. They needed him. Fuck! I never should have let him touch me. Things happened. Now this.

“Do not think of it in such common terms, June,” he whispered, his voice smooth as silk but heavy as lead. “You are looking at this through the lens of human morality, but we are wolves. We are creatures of destiny and design.”He stepped even closer, his heat radiating through my thin, silver dress, a cruel contrast to the damp stone wall at my back.