Romantic Short Stories Novels & Stories

I whispered again. Kissing Tania’s cheek, I gently spoke into her ear. “Are you alright Tania?” She finally stirred, and then opened her eyes. “That was the best experience I’ve ever had, how did you learn to do that?” “Oh, it’s something I read about in an erotic story,” I lied. Putting her arms around my neck, she whispered, “Fuck me, fuck me hard.”

THE END🥳❤️ THE END OF BURNING PASSION 🥳❤️ Thank you for reading and supporting this novel, if you enjoyed this erotic collection then it’s a must to read my second book “SINFUL DESIRES”, it can be found on any book platform and unlike this book, Sinful Desires are short short stories , so just sit back and enjoy a short blissful erotic stories THANK YOU AGAIN❤️!!

His gaze held a mixture of gratitude and something deeper, a sentiment he seldom revealed. As she continued to dress his wounds, the room seemed to shrink, narrowing down to the unspoken connection between them. Raina, in your writing, delves into the complexities of their romance. The physical act of dressing wounds serves as a metaphor for the healing they find in each other amid the chaos of their lives. Let the readers feel the emotional nuances, the uncharted territory of love in the shadows.

He is just a creature who lacks love, a love that can tap into the deepest recesses of his heart. Let Romeo promise. It's not Romeo and Juliet who are the fairy tales of the mortal world, but Rena and Romeo who can dominate the hearts of every lover.

"I think your stories are great, Zam. The world needs to read it." Zamantha frowned and stopped typing her thesis on the laptop. "I just can't get past the romance plot of my stories. I don't know how to freaking write it. I don't know the feeling of being in love." Zamantha grinned devilishly. "Perhaps, you can enlighten me? You know, you're mending a broken heart again."

He uttered his name in a breathy tone when she pulled her face away. She murmured to him when their lips were only a handful apart. "Make love to me, Rome." For the last time, she wanted to add, but she stopped herself. Rome wasted no time. He swiftly claimed her waiting lips, and Channy felt incredibly warm when his lips touched hers. This is how Rome's kisses affect her. Just kissing him is enough to transport her to heaven. She had kissed many guys before Rome, but none had made her feel this way.

#Romance #Thrilling #Suspense #Action #Dramas This is going to be the best of best so don't miss any part. @Authoress Ricky Be expecting this next week readers. I love you all💓💓 Here is a blurb about the book

I’ve read a lot of things in my ten years of teaching. Late-night essays, drunken rants passed off as “creative expression,” confessions disguised as poetry. But none of them ever made my cock hard. Until hers. Until Mira Callahan handed in her extra credit assignment. It was a short story, printed neatly in 12-point Times New Roman, double-spaced like I asked. But the first sentence hit like a punch to the gut: “He wasn’t supposed to touch her, but he wanted to. And when she leaned back on his desk and spread her legs, he forgot what ‘supposed to’ meant.”

We lay there in the dark, the city lights flickering in the distance. "I love you guys," she whispered, her voice barely a thread. "We love you, Gabriella," Arden said. "Always," Brent added. I just pulled her closer, claiming her lips fiercely, my heart beating in time with hers. The war was over. The game was won. And the prize was the only thing that ever mattered. Her. She would be ours forever. Ours to break, to fuck, to tame, to ruin. Our pretty princess and our submissive little slut. Our sweet Gabriella. THE END

More… specific. I read romance novels and decided the first step to getting his attention was to make him see me as something other than Jane’s little friend. I started wearing shorter skirts when I knew I’d see him. Tighter tops. I’d pull my hair up to expose my neck, mimicking gestures I’d seen in movies. But he never gave me a second glance. Not until I went for the nuclear option. Last night, I sent him photos. Not just any photos. Explicit ones. Carefully angled, lit by the dim lamp in my dorm room, leaving nothing to the imagination. I sent them to his private email, the one I’d memorized from seeing it on paperwork years ago.