Older Man Romance Books นิยาย & เรื่องราว

“You asked for harder in your head the second I locked that door. Say it out loud this time.” “No.” He pulled his fingers out. Waited. Mean patience. His mouth was wet. My cock lay hard on my stomach, ignored. I heard my own voice, ugly. “Harder. Don’t stop. Say it.” “Say what.” “That you…” I tried to take it back. His hand wrapped me and didn’t move. “That you wanted me in that room two years ago. Not just the deck.” Caleb’s mouth twitched. Not a smile. He pushed into me slow enough that I felt every inch, raw, no condom, same as the door. When he bottomed out he stayed, breathing against my mouth.

Luca looked amused but followed without protest. Inside, the air smelled of old paper and dust. Stacks of books filled every corner, and a sleepy cat dozed on the counter beside an elderly woman who greeted us with a kind smile. I wandered between the shelves, fingers brushing against spines — romance, poetry, mystery — stories that once felt too far away from the life I’d been living. I picked up a worn copy of The Little Prince and smiled faintly. “I used to read this when I was a kid.”

I half-smile at him. "I knew it was just a fucking hangover. Did you ever hear a girl ending up with her childhood boyfriend?", he throws a sarcastic smile. "Or else marrying someone who is of her age. I mean women crave for older men than them. Admit it. You were in an infatuation, babygirl", he says as he lightens a cigarette. I keep listening to his nonsense. He must be obsessed with dark romance books where most of the women accept the slavery of men and loves to be abused, then end up loving the same abuser. Wake up, Mr Gomez. You have still not known me. I shrug into my mind.

"Nanny, please. Don’t remind me. I’m trying to forget that ever happened." "Forget? Oh no, my dear. You can't forget something like that. This is fate, darling! You slept with him, and now he’s your boss? You couldn't write a better romance novel if you tried!" she exclaims, practically bouncing in her seat. I stab at my food. "This isn’t a romance novel, Nanny. This is my life, and I’m just trying to do my job without embarrassing myself."

I was only eight at the time and I don't really remember. Aiden finds me in my small library reading a romance book of course. Things that are more embarrassing than having a crush find me sitting in my grandpa's large chair reading a romance novel. He looks at the cover and sees a chiseled bare chest of some man whose name I don't know. Probably a model for some sports magazine. On the cover, he's caressing a lady whose back is turned towards him and her chest is bare and open and exposed. Everything about it is graphic, the way all romance novels are these days. The title is something awful as well something like My Brother's Sexy Best Friend by Jane Doe. I'm not sure who Jane Doe is but s

Cela said. "Oh, you are a writer. Are you into romance writing? You can write our story if you ran out of ideas for your stories," the old lady offered. "I think yours is a sweet love story, isn't it? I could tell," Cela said. She's enjoying the conversation with the old couple.

it felt so new to you since it's Genesis the man I love and I never had sex with him. you looked into his eyes. you were turned on by his face; the raised eyebrow, the seductive eyes, the little smirk plastered on his face. oh goodness. I thought that I already moved on but I was wrong. All this time I'm still in love with him. you didn't realize that he loosened your red lace brassiere. your breath hitched, he was that damn fast. you let your straps fall to your shoulder as he slowly removes the cloth from your chest.

“Oh, Harlow! Don’t be wound so tight! Don’t you know this old granny has to live vicariously through you? I’m too old for a romance myself, but that doesn’t mean I don’t like hearing about them.” “I can see that,” I said, meaning the second half of her comment. “I don’t think you’re ever too old for romance, Grandma. Aren’t any of those men from your pack that you used to have feelings for still around? Other than Horace.” I made a face at his name. I definitely didn’t want Grandma going back to that grumpy old man. “Oh, I suppose so,” she said, waving her hand dismissively. “But I don’t think that’s for me. I would much rather hear about young love and know my granddaughter has some nice,

he urged. "I promise," she smiled up at him. Jacob bent down and placed a chaste, almost brotherly kiss on her cheek and left. He knew she wouldn't read too much into it, she wouldn't suddenly fancy herself in love with him, the sensible girl that she was. *** Olivia raced back home, Menace in tow. She ran straight to her chambers, wanting to find the diary she had kept until the day her mother had passed four years ago. She jumped onto her bed and opened the old leather-bound booklet. She slowly traced the pages, a soft smile on her face.

I was pretty good at it and at the urging of my then girlfriend Julie, had submitted a few to a story site named Erotic escapes where under the pen name hotforteacher I'd gotten some pretty good reviews. Most of my stories were about older women with guys my age and Miss Ross had been the inspiration for many of them. Most of my female leads had the same long dark hair, big brown eyes and perfect full lips as my favorite English teacher. Yes Miss Ross had been the nasty little cougar in my mind and in print many times over the last few months. Shit, I'd even joined her writing discussion group because it met every other Sunday at her house.