Passionate Novels Novels & Stories

Getting late to work had almost become a routine because of my insomnia which started a little over two weeks ago. Why? I wasn't quite sure. Or, maybe I was, except that I didn't want to admit it. Why would something affecting my work so much have anything to do with him? It's been three full weeks since that night of passion, which was still somehow fresh in my mind as though it happened yesterday. His perfect caresses on my body, his deep sultry voice which I can't get out of my head, his one million dollar scent which assailed my sense of reasoning, the feel of his glorious body against my smooth skin which moulded with his, his length filling me whole like it was made just for me—

It is hard to keep from falling in love now that the English are here. She had taken me seriously when I told her that I did not require any blandishments, and I warmed to the thought that she might suggest that I had awakened her reflection. I felt that dreadful twinge once more. "You like the English?" "Yes." "Why?" She sighed, "They are very bons garçons, clean, and fine men, and they also have sentiment—Yes, it is difficult not to feel." "What do you do when you experience passionate feelings at that point, Suzette?"

Julia’s POV I stirred as the light fell on my face. The memories of the previous night came flooding back, making my lips stretch in a small, satisfied smile. The way we kissed we such passion that threatened to consume me, the feel of his hands as he caressed my naked skin, the feel of his member as it delivered mind shattering strokes…. How could so bad feel so damn good? And that wasn’t the worst part. The worst part was that I still wanted a repeat of last night.

The fire in Evelyn’s body had only burned hotter. As if possessed, she had grabbed his hand and guided it over her body, breathlessly whispering, "Touch me..." His sharp eyes had darkened with lust as he obliged, his hands roaming her body and causing her to moan with every touch. Responding to her moans, he had pulled her closer, deepening their feverish kiss. One of his strong hands had gripped her waist, while the other had tangled in her hair, holding her in place as their passion escalated.

I don't know if I should like him more for being honorable or hate him for not finding me attractive at all. “Now, you do?” “I still don't.” “Oh!” “Not really.” He sighs. “It's still weird.” “Because you've never tried thinking about it.” “You have?” “Countless times.” I admit. His eyes flash with passion. “In different positions.” I add. “Chelsea,” he groans. I lean forward, my eyes fixed on him. He knows what I intend to do and doesn't move away. The first contact of my lips with his has me reeling with pleasure. It feels better than I had imagined, a thousand times.

At the annual Mafia Summit, my childhood sweetheart, Salvatore Russo, falls victim to an aphrodisiac slipped to him by a beautiful spy from a rival family. And I, the cherished daughter of the most feared Don in the west, willingly become his antidote. That night, he drives me to the edge of breathless surrender, again and again. "Principessa, what did I ever do to deserve your favor?" he mutters. From that moment on, his love consumes me whole, making me forget what loneliness ever felt like.

she said - daddy’s sweet little girl. It was fascinating to watch her theater. My sister knew exactly how to win over an audience with her untamable spirit. Sometimes I felt her body was far too small for her wild, ravenous, and secretly disturbed soul. Everything became too intense with her. Passivity was tedious. She craved action. She needed the stares, the spotlight, the leading role. If Iris wasn’t the protagonist, there was no story. If she wanted to win, then victory was already hers. If she wanted someone else’s place, she would take it; if she desired another’s affections or accomplishments, she would steal them. So cunning and skillful that, by the time you noticed, everything had

This felt too unreal, like those paid dramas I and mama used to watch when I was little. “Flustered? No” I answered. He stared at me, his wet hair dripping on his face, his eyes were calm, yet, they brimmed with passion. “So tell me Amelia, shall I name you the flustered cat? You seem flustered to me” he said, his eyes staring at mine and then down to my lips and then to my eyes again. What is this feeling? I could feel my heart hammering against my chest, my body feeling hot even with the Air conditioner turned on.

It was the roughest, most passionate kiss of her life. With her heart gripped in pain, she slipped weak arms around his neck as her body eagerly responded to him. All the years they’d been apart were spoken through rough, gasping kisses. They grunted and moaned as he ground against her jeans desperately. He set her down with a thud and hurriedly ripped her t-shirt. He groped her breasts and pulled them out of her favorite bra, then broke it, too, tearing it in half, all the while panting against her open lips. He lunged down to take one pink, tight crest in his mouth, biting it before he moved to the next for a moist hot lapping. She couldn’t breathe. The longing between her thighs was so in

The whole house was boring and the atmosphere was gloomy, I decided to go into the study, when I was in there with Damon I could recall seeing romance novels on the bookshelf. I am a true lover of romantic novels, they get your spirit high with the sexiness of the male lead and gracefulness of the female but one thing that lacks in all romantic plot is that all are the same, there hasn't been anything new but who cares...... While I checked the bookshelf I notice a couple of erotic novels in there, you should know that I am very happy.