Playing Dirty Book Novels & Stories

Author's Note: Guys, guess what... DIRTY PAGES is officially on 1k views!!! Thank you so, so much, guys. Hitting 1,000 views on my very first book means more to me than you could ever imagine. I was literally awake last night, watching that 996 view count like my life depended on it – refreshing, pacing, hoping – and when it finally flipped to 1.0k, I swear my heart did a whole somersault.

"You're not allowed to cum until you fuck me. I want all of it." Jamal smiled at me. "You've got a deal." He said. Jamal slowly snuck out of my bedroom and left me alone in the dark. I continued to rub my body. I felt sticky with his cum rubbed into my skin. It felt filthy and dirty but sooooo hot! I kept feeling myself, then licking at my fingers to taste the last of his cum. With the twenty year old, black man's cum rubbed into my flesh, I fell to sleep. -- I woke up late the next morning since I was up late with Jamal. The first thing I did was light a candle in my room as it smelt of sex, and then I went for a shower to clean his cum off of me.

“Make out. Both of you. And don’t be quiet. Tell each other what dirty little sluts you are.” Sophia smiled and pulled me close. Our wet bodies pressed together, breasts rubbing, as we kissed deeply. Our tongues slid against each other, the kiss turning sloppy and hungry. “I’m such a filthy slut,” Sophia whispered against my lips. “Letting two men use my holes while my best friend watches.” I moaned softly, grinding against her thigh. “I’m worse. I’m a professor who fucks her student and begs for more. Such a desperate cock-hungry whore.”

And perhaps alpha Eskaal was speaking the truth! ---------------- [Check out my smut/sex compilation book] Title: Lustful Delicacies

“Why would you even care if I fuck all your drivers? Am I not a whore? Just what you call me last night?” “Of course you’re a whore. But I don’t want our employees to get infected by a whore’s saliva. You’re dirty and they are clean.” “So we’re the same, huh?” I raised an eyebrow. “You’re also a dirty man, right? Fucking different women even when you don’t know them? Is that also inherited to the Rockwell’s blood? To be a whore too by most of women here in Pennsylvania?” Damn her. “I can’t blame them if they enjoy fucking me, Erica. But I just want you to know that I only fuck once. And before I fuck, I make sure that the woman I’m going to pound is clean. How about you? How do you like men

Ian stood in front of me, arms crossed, a knowing smirk on his face. "I should fire you," I muttered. "You should," he said casually, slumping into the couch at the corner like he owned the place. "But then who else is going to keep your dirty little secrets?" " They’re not fake," I said tightly. Ian raised a brow. "Aren’t they?" I didn’t answer. Because yes...technically, they were forged. Fabricated. But I had to do what I did to get what I wanted. "She doesn’t need to know," I said finally.

I walk in and see its fairly clean, few pieces of clothing lay around and the bed is a huge mess, other than that its perfectly fine. I pick up the clothes and place them in the hamper. I go and make his bed, avoiding the stains left on them. Disgusting. As I'm cleaning I trip over something that's sticking out from under his bed. I bend down and pick up the book. Its seems to be a photo album.

"It’s rough." "Because it’s covered with dry mud. I should wipe off the mud. " Leonardo returned the book to Angela, who took the time to clean it in the bathroom. She placed the book in a basin of water and left it to soften and melt the mud. It was initially brown, but later revealed its true cover color, pink. "This book is pink," Angela said quietly, her hand shaking as she held a stick and drew the book from the water, letting it dry in the wind after removing the mud. Until the truth comes out. It was Esmeralda's long-lost diary.

Tasting the filth, the fire, the fever he wrote into every page of my skin. The next morning, a box sat on the kitchen counter. Hardcover, freshly printed. My was name on the cover—and his. ‘Yours, Uncensored.’ “Is this—?” I asked, fingers trembling over the title. “Our story,” he said behind me, pulling my robe down to bare my shoulder. “Every filthy, furious, unforgettable chapter.” “You’re insane,” I breathed. “And you love it.” He kissed the top of my spine. The back cover quote? I read it aloud.

“It’s only the beginning… and next time I’m bending you over that table while the whole campus studies ten feet away.” The library slipped back into its quiet hush, but it felt brand new now… alive, dripping with memory, thick with the promise of every dirty, delicious discovery still to come. And as I walked her to the exit, her hand brushing mine one last time… fingers slick with the evidence of what we’d done… we both knew this was just the first chapter of the filthiest story these books had ever seen.