Really Spicy Books Novels & Stories

My Wife's Dirty Fantasy (6) In the days after that Christmas night out, I couldn’t stop thinking about Grace and Jordan. I kept thinking about how far they’d already gone—him sucking her tits in the car, fingering her in the back of a taxi, her on her knees, sucking his cóck like it was nothing. It was insanely hot, and dangerous as hell.

I bit my bottom lip, shrugging. "What kind of books do you mean? There are motivational books, novels..." I trailed off, listing various genres. Colby rubbed his face, frustration etched on his features. "The book I'm talking about is...dark. Dark romance." I cocked my head, signing, "I do read that. Why? What's wrong?" Colby's eyes seemed to bore into mine. "Then you might know...have you ever had any fantasies? Like, reading them, did you ever imagine..." He trailed off, his gaze intense.

I licked my lower lip and looked at him seductively. He gripped my hair and then claimed my lips. I felt him biting my lips over and over again, to the point that I can now feel the taste of metal in my mouth. His mouth fell on my chest, and he sucked it both like a lion, so angry at his prey. His eyes are burning, and I anticipated all of his touches, even if they were harsh and rough. All the more I want it. He had just finished on my chest when he pulled me into his body and then claimed my lips again. A moan escaped from my mouth when he lifted me up and slapped my butt five times.

I am grateful for the respite, as no one seems to be paying attention to me. I pull my cell phone out of my bag and open the Kindle app. It's still a while before class starts, so I want to read a chapter first. I duck my head and look at my phone as I devour the words on the screen. I started a book last night , and by all the saints, I think this book is going to tear me apart by the end. The main character goes through so much and then the supposed hero makes her suffer too. I must have cried about a million times, especially when I got to the part of the book about her past. I haven't even finished it yet and I feel like I already have a book hangover.

The dining room table is covered in baby name books. Spadino bought them. He bought all of them. 1001 Names for Boys. The Book of Saints. Ancient Roman Heroes. They are stacked in teetering piles next to the bread basket. "Maximum," Spadino says. He is holding a book open, pointing to a page with a breadstick. "No," Aureliano says. He is cutting his steak with surgical precision. "It sounds like a gladiator."

I felt heat start to pool low and a blush start to crawl up my neck. "About his ability to make himself everyone's problem." "Well, that tracks. At least from the little bit I've known him." She leaned closer to Rowan's section and started reading the titles off like she was browsing a bookstore. The books were a chaotic mix, some genuinely useful, others questionably so, but all jammed together in no particular order. She pointed to the first spine, reading it outloud, her voice dripping with judgement. "How to Win and Argument Without Throwing a Punch."

Chapter 1: Caught in the Act I straddled on Professor Blake’s lap in his office, my short plaid skirt shoved up around my waist, my soaked black panties hanging off one ankle like a dirty little trophy. His thick cock was buried deep inside my dripping pussy, stretching me open as I rocked my hips in slow, lazy circles, taking every inch of him with each roll. I’d never been one for hitting the books hard. Studying felt like torture, so I’d found a much more appealing way to keep my grades up, and it was simple, riding my professor raw for hours. And it happened to work every single time.

“Please don't slow down. Fuck me hard.” He obliged, hips slamming against mine with enough force to rock the desk. “That's it,” Mr. Sinclair urged. “Don't let that arse go.” My lips moved out of their own accord, moaning helplessly as I shut my eyes, the pleasure frying my brain cells. A fierce rush of heat flooded through my system, my pulse thundering through every inch of me. The room was thick with the scent of sex and stale sweat, and I almost shattered to the sounds of my pussy squelching shamelessly as his wet cock rammed into my dripping coochie.

Opening it silently, I strained for signs of anyone else in the hotel who might recognize me or who I may know. Throwing caution to the wind, I stole down the hall, my feet lightly pattering on the marble floor as I hurried down to the bookshop. I looked around and found one I thought was fitting for the occasion: Lady Chatterley's Lover based on the title because I felt I could relate with her but half not trusting myself not to give in to the lust-filled pages and half gleeful with excitement, I chose the book and headed back to my suite. Shutting myself in the bedroom, I curled up on the oversized chair again and got lost in its pages.